#the end is the beginning is the end

[mortifiedandawesome]

Smashing Pumpkins - The End is the Beginning is the End

[eye-of-the-purricane]

Billy Corgan discussing the Batman + Robin soundtrack

@ Madame Zuzu’s 02/06/2022

[ashrayus]

absolutely lost it over this fic by @neuro-psyche so. have this comic o(- (

go read it rn if u also love some Good identity reveal fic!!!!

[drdisasterarts]

stardust to stardust // inspiration -> "The Kiss" by Gustav Klimt

edit: reblogs r appreciated plsplspls😖💕‼️

[thesunoficarus1]

season one of supernatual is so funny to me. sam and dean will literally show up to the crime scene in some fuck ass flannels and dean is in his leather jacket and the cops are like "who the hell are you?" and dean will be like "oh, us? well we are obviously from the us fish and wildlife service who else could we possibly be???" 

meanwhile theyre in the craziest outfits known to mankind with no badge or anything, so the cops will ask for their IDs and they'll hand them the most unconvincing fake id you'll ever see. the thing will be crumpled to no return and look like it was all hand written by a toddler and SOMEHOW THE COPS STILL BELIEVE THEM??

and then, they'll start questioning the victims family like "aw man :( I'm so sad for you :( that must be really hard :( so like what happened? and on a completely separate note, did you see anything? feel a temp drop? did you feel a cold spot? did you see something weird? like a creature mayhaps? like a ghost? did you see a ghost? do you believe in ghosts? please tell me it's a ghost?" like that's a totally normal line of questioning for a random drowning from two members of the us fish and wildlife service.

[wildflowercryptid]

underappreciated marcille bit : her being a gay lil hater and glaring at toshiro whenever he gets flustered over falin

[kazraza]

lmao doesn’t even mean “laughing my ass off” anymore it’s just “lmao”. she is like a brother to me

[emotionally-destroyed-soldier]

A burst of cacaphony fading into a long, droning hum. That was it, then. For better or worse, the line was closed and Jane had the heavy feeling in his chest that it wouldn't open again, at least not as a timeless conduit. His breath caught, a sharp 'huck' sound. He nuzzled his face against the dead receiver, no comfort coming forth. Just an emotionless, cold tone. It felt like it was made of lead as he placed it back on the cradle, the soft 'click' of the pegs being depressed sending a shiver down his spine. He hadn't felt like this in months. He'd forgotten how devastatingly alone he'd felt. The drought of conversation. No kind word or gentle touch. You're a damn fool. The voice came from the bathroom. The mirror was still broken, sharp shards of various sizes still clinging stubbornly to the frame. He saw fragments in the fragments. Sharp, snarling teeth. Cold, piercing eye. The corner of a sneering lip. A reflection. A refraction. I told you before to shit or get off the pot. Now you're in even deeper now. You stupid, no-good maggot, what have you done? In the long run, what the fuck have you done? Oui, what have you done? Nothing. You have done nothing. You will change nothing. You will be left. With. Nothing. The shadows smoked. The faintest shilouette of a skeletal husk, grinning involuntarily at him in the dark. Go on. Wait for the doctor. Wait until you grow old and waste away in this room. Because he will die. The boy will die. Everyone will die and this will all be the same as it ever was. Powerless to a thing as worthless as you to change. And it'll be like that until you stop being a fucking coward and do what you should've done years ago. Jane left the bathroom and walked back out to the main office, picking up his shotgun. Dazedly, almost, he tested the weight. Familiar. It'd been an extention of his arm in this war and the last. He knew what it could do. He held it vertical. The steel was cold under his chin. That's it. Do it. Pull the trigger. It's what you deserve. 'i'll wait for you as long as it takes. i promise.' NO. Jane jerked the muzzle of the shotgun away from his chin, pushing the firearm across the room hard. It spun across the floor like a macabre spin the bottle before slowing to a stop, the business end facing the wall. The thing in the mirror and the thing in the corner were gone. Silent. Jane breathed in, pulled himself to his feet, walked over to the couch, and sat down, hands folded in his lap. He would wait for Fritz as long as it took.

[deadpoets]

DEAD POETS SOCIETY (1989) dir. Peter Weir

[mortifiedandawesome]

The Smashing Pumpkins - The End Is the Beginning Is the End (Lyrics)

[lapetitemxrt]

Moment of truth — what is your least favorite aspect of your position?

"It's difficult to say, Sir." I was surprised by her candor, she had taken more care with such inquiries in the past. It always felt as if a small barrier, built by the strange juxtaposition of our ages and our roles to one another, had been there and now suddenly dissipated.

I was familiar, by then, with her fathers tendency to blow past boundaries as if they were nothing more than smoke, asking deeply personal or potentially incriminating questions about my life and my desires and what I was doing on my (very limited) time off. They would be asked as easily as asking about the weather, throwing the wrathful teen i was out of balance.

Her breech felt different. I was also familiar with her inability to be anything less than the person with the most integrity (pardon the pun) in any room she occupies. I knew her question came from a place of deep care, a bond we forged through grief and service to the Hellsing name. I knew my near betrayal of her, and all of my life weighed heavily on her. Not because she didn't trust me, which would have been bearable. No, Integra Hellsing never put blame on anyone other than herself when it comes to what is most important to her. She's wondering, subtly and without expression other than her usual calm blue gaze, what she did wrong. That's a simplification of her thought process, but in the end, she blames herself. As she does for far too much.

Realizing I was lost in thought, I drew into a smile as I refocused. "I have had many positions over the years, and eventually, they all became part of one another." I took my time here, viewing the answer as critical to the continuation of a semblance of our former relationship even if she didn't. I wanted her to know how sorry I was that she had nearly had to pay for the sins of her father at my hands. We never spoke quite that candidly, however.

"I take pride in my position, Sir Hellsing. The trials of being what I am to the organization are nothing in comparison to the positive impact Hellsing has had on the world in recent years." She would likely think I meant since the Millennium War, her constant rebuilding of London and our extermination of left behind FREAK vampires. Really though, I meant since she had taken over at the time of her fathers untimely death. While I was technically the interrim head of Hellsing until she became of age, I had never kept her from a round table meeting or from making a decision. Maybe some part of me knew I would need someone like her to pull my head out of my ass. Pardon the profanity.

"My only true complaints lie with factors beyond our control, and even then, we always adapt, Sir." I inclined my head, my usual indication I was done answering her question.

I briefly glanced at her cooling cup of tea from my place standing near her, noting the need for a refill.

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

Jason's been pestering Danny about why he looks like a borderline walking corpse for ages and Danny has decided to put his lying skills to the test. (he has none)

rambling below cut

I've been playing w the idea that the more Danny transforms, the more his ghost form gets "lively" while his human form gets weaker and more sickly. He knows that if he keeps transforming like this then, one day, he's not going to have a livable body to go back to, but he really doesn't want to think about all that. He's more interested in the weird "totally dead but not dead" Wayne son who may or may not have a thing for his sister.

everytime i do one these im like "this time I'll keep it simple so I don't have to suffer through colouring bc I have zero foresight—it'll be greyscale at most" and then all of the sudden its 4am and i'm trying to finish a stupid comic but i decided to add "some" colour to spice it up and hide my shitty ink job and then SOME COLOUR ALWAYS BECOMES FULL COLOUR WHY CAN I NOT ESCAPE THIS STUPID CYCLE!!

(did this all stem from me not being able to decide between a super pale character design and one w a vibrant tan bc I love white hair + tan but I also love extremely pale albino so I forced myself to find a way to make both work? never! that's absurd!)

[bloominglegumes]

i love normal guys doomed by the narrative

[onenicebugperday]

by Matron Art & Design on Instagram

[hawflake-folk]

brought jiaoqiu out to pull for them and the absolute speed at which they arrived...