#queued for when im not here

[whimsicaldaydreamss]

i wish your love was real

[unriding]

me n moze say good morning to the world !!! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

art by @rabbbitseason of course <3

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

rough day...

[slavhew]

getting heartbroken is way cool

[ryssbelle]

Made this ages ago for fun, the characters pictured are both different versions of TLOZ link one being mine and the other belonging to @linked-maze

I think they both deserve to kill a man

[every-sanji]

[topaziraphale]

"Stop saying Crowley won't help Aziraphale in S3 he'd go back to him in a HEARTBEAT and nothing would stop him" I get it no one likes the idea of Crowley being bitter after what happened for a long period of time but like can we at least acknowledge that he's currently going through probably the most emotional pain in his life since falling? Can we agree that he's opened his heart entirely - something you couldn't pay him to do unless the world is literally ending and he's desperate - to Aziraphale, and got shot down? Can we understand that he did it AGAIN only to lose Aziraphale again? Not that what Aziraphale did isn't without Crowley's own shortcomings (hiding the truth of Heaven's cruelty from him) but like,,,,

The appeal here isn't Scorned Crowley Doesn't Love Aziraphale Anymore, or Never Wants To Help Him Again, the appeal here is Crowley learning enough self respect to not just walk back right to Aziraphale like nothing happened after Aziraphale has had a pattern of consistently refusing him. Going years ping-ponging between "We're not friends I don't even know him" to "That's what friends are for right?" and "We're friends, why would you even say anything?" and "Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon!"

Like I get it, Crowley is a heartbreakingly forgiving person. Of course he's gonna forgive Aziraphale, I'll be surprised if he didn't forgive him by the time he walked out the bookshop door, but gdi he could at least grant himself the luxury of being at least a little irritated for longer than however long it takes to make a globe and some books float and angrily cry out to God in his flat. But due to the change of pace and dynamic that is establishing part of the conflict for Season 3, I just really like the idea of him for ONCE prioritizing himself and being like "Okay, fine. We'll get back at it when you're ready, then," instead of just taking Aziraphale back like his words and actions meant nothing to him, when clearly they have an effect on him.

What is Aziraphale going to learn if Crowley just accepts what he did so quickly, like he always has the entire time they've been friends? Idk maybe I'm just projecting too much darkness on their dynamic but I mean, if the pattern of Aziraphale pushing Crowley away/disrespecting him one day and then being fine with his friendship the next + Crowley never stopping to be like "Hey, that's not cool, at least give me a little credit" or smth was fine all along and will continue to be fine in the future, then why, after 6,000 years of being friends and loving this demon, can Aziraphale still not accept that Crowley is just fine the way he is, and instead got excited to promote him to an angel in a heartbeat once the opportunity presented itself? You can't blame all of it on Heaven when Aziraphale has demonstrated his free will/defiance to Heaven so many times. Or, I don't know, I guess maybe we can? Maybe I'm just craving too much angst to the point where I'm letting it cloud my analysis of canon. Idk.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

immortality is so lonely

[static-scribblez]

“Our senses restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They existed, they existed. We can be. Be and be better. For they existed.” - Maya Angelou, ‘Where Great Trees Fall’

Bonus:

[akkivee]

THE VOICE ACTING IN THE ENTIRE KUUKOU VS HITOYA CONFRONTATION GETS ME GOING EVERY TIME

[whimsicaldaydreamss]

Amber, Bundled, Cardigans xx-Blush

Hi, Blush! I hope you’re doing well! Thank you so much for the ask! I think this autumn version is especially cute! ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝ ˃ ᵕ ˂⸝⸝꒱ྀིა ♡

Amber - what's something you do every day?

I read everyday! I used to read a lot of books growing up but I’ve switched to manga, manhwa, webtoons, manhua, etc… I am always reading something (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

Bundled - describe your ideal date.

I think this really depends on the season, so since fall is approaching I’d have to say a nice, cozy kind of date. I’m thinking of those Pinterest (or even tumblr) posts where you see fall leaves in the background and in frame is just two people holding hands and they’re wearing the softest, coziest looking sweaters… sounds kinda cliche now that I think about it haha - oops ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა

Cardigans - favorite autumn colors?

I just really love the super warm, saturated colors associated with fall. So deep oranges, reds, purples, greens, etc… I even think there’s a fall version of blue and pink(?)! In general, I think most warm fall tone colors are pretty (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[fleouriarts]

feeling bad about my art lately. will probably not post for a while. but i wanted to at least dump some stuff here before i retreat into my hidey hole

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hello; i just wanted to say i respect you immensely for the resources you publish on a daily basis. i'm sure you have your own motivations for doing so, but if it ever becomes hard for you to manage, please take some time to care for yourself and your health. you are far more important than i feel you give yourself credit for.

You are so sweet, dear Anon. No worries, though! About +90% of my posts on this blog are now queued. It seems like I'm always on here, but I'm not. Usually you can tell I'm here when I answer replies on posts, or messages like this. But sometimes these are queued too. Or is it.

[ryssbelle]

Lil trolls ocs doodles I did, the first two were my own attempts at mixing Poppy and Branchs dna and the second is a very cute troll who belongs to @spjs

[reaper-in-reverie]

At some point he'd forgotten why he even killed in the first place, why he felt these chills all the time. It was because he liked seeing people filled with distress, he liked to see the light miserably fade out of their eyes. No—

It was because he fucking hated them.

OR

zack foster's occasional musings. takes place pre-canon. which makes him about a teenager (?) also he's pretty much just as quiet as he was as a kid because i said so. very uncreative i think. warnings. murder, obviously. all things zack. tw for blood. knife. cw swearing (like twice). minor character death mentioned. mainly me yapping lol. character analysis. wc 855.

The city lights shone brightly against the dark night sky.

There air wasn't warm, but it wasn't freezing cold — and Zack treaded the dark, dusty back alleys of the place, spinning the knife in his hand, walking towards nowhere in particular. He waited. And waited. And waited, until there it was again.

A chill.

Like a silent call that took form as shivers up his spine. Zack turned back, a now determined look in his eyes as he moved out of the alley. There was no satisfaction for him until this chill ceased — it beckoned to him, it itched against his wrapped hands and guided his palms to the hilt of his knife. It invited him to plunge it into the chest or the stomach of the nearest person.

Zack found himself in another alley (stepping on something soggy under his boot and letting out a quick "ugh, shit,"), waiting for some drunkard to stumble out and find himself to be a very unlucky man.

Zack could hear the loud bar from where he was hiding in the semi-dark alley. It was bustling with chatter and laughter and music, and the occasional chorus of a group of friends shouting in unison. His hands gripped the handle of his knife tightly. He couldn't wait until this laughter and this noise turned into pained groans or terrified screams. Or better yet, an expression of complete and utter dread in contrast to whatever fun they had in their drinks and in the company of their friends. He couldn't wait for them to die, alone, at his burned hand.

And someone eventually did walk out. A man stumbling out of the bar, hiccupping, babbling nonsense, leaning against the walls of the alley, not even having a sense of direction as he stumbled into the darkness. He bumped into Zack with a drunken "whoops!", one Zack grimaced at in a mix of annoyance and disgust.

There wasn't any greeting, no warning, no threatening call — Zack just lunged at the drunk man, hands gripping the knife tightly as he shoved it into his back. Zack heard a loud groan come from his victim, but that didn't stop him; he kept stabbing him. Again and again. Until he fell to the ground. In the chest, in the stomach, anywhere that made his heart thump in excitement. Blood spilled, then pooled under the corpse, staining the clothes he was wearing. There was a rattle in the dying man's chest — he's choking on his own blood — and Zack knew it was done. He stared at his work, then walked away.

He was used to it at this point.

At some point he'd forgotten why he even killed in the first place, why he felt these chills all the time. It was because he liked seeing people filled with distress, he liked to see the light miserably fade out of their eyes. No—

It was because he fucking hated them.

Them. Them — everyone who looked happy, everyone who could laugh and live satisfied with themselves — them. They all just lied to themselves, cackling as if they weren't evil, as if they weren't monsters to everyone around them, as if they weren't vermin to the very ground they enjoy. They didn't deserve to live, they didn't deserve their glee — that was why Zack was honored to force upon these monsters their ultimate dread; death.

Zack was a monster, too.

A different kind, he always justified. He knew he was evil — he embraced it like he would to a mother he never had, cradled the reality in his hands — he didn't lie to himself. He was the kind that was never truly happy like them unless he killed them. He was the kind born from them.

But still a monster.

That was why he didn't kill that old man — guh, that old man. Zack kicked around a trash can with a frustrated look, finding himself in his previous alleyway. He didn't kill him because it'd be pointless. He wasn't happy in the first place, he was a miserable blind man, he was just a loner. Killing him wouldn't bring Zack any satisfaction.

Or maybe because the old man wasn't a monster. Maybe because he was a kind old blind man — maybe it was his misery that made him good.

And what do you want to do now? The questioned nagged at Zack every so often, and he always answered himself — I want to kill all these laughing bastards so that they fall to anguish and despair.

But he knew that wasn't what he always thought. Not before the old man died, anyway. Maybe it was just for a night, just for a few hours, that Zack was satisfied with himself. Without blood. Without a knife in his hand. Without looking for happiness in the despair of other monsters.

Things would be a lot different if that old man were to still be alive.

But he doubted anything would be normal.

Zack didn't even know his name.

© reapkusho on tumblr. 2024. all rights reserved. refrain from translating, copying, or stealing in any way, etc.

[belovedstilldear]

guess who turned 18........ meeee :3