#using him like a mop

[paintpaintpaintman]

@fanofthelamb come get your fuckin cat

[choccy-milky]

saw a couple of ppl doing these posts, so i present to you my very first attempts at drawing seb vs now.......and just looking at the old ones causes me actual physical pain😭😭 bc why does he look like hes wearing a TOUPÉE???😭 we dont talk about it....just dont go too far back in my blog im begging you

[hahahalfwit]

long hair movie asterix save me. long hair movie asterix. save me long hair movie asterix

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hey... what's your favourite urban legend or ghost story?

🌲🕸🌲🕸🌲

[daughterofhecata]

.

[i-cant-believe-its-not-silk]

Gender Is A Fuck

Like an entity of barbed wire wrapped in blooming flowers

I’m a guy creature that likes to sit down in hot showers

Like wire mother getting railed by the mother cloth

I turn of my lamps because I’m too afraid of moths 

A typhoon of gritty spite and gentle touches

I could rend metal apart when I get those mucnhes’

Dont touch my fucking pasta or I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL SCRUMPLE YOUR SKELETON LIKE I’M A GOD DAMNED MEAT GRINDER.

The mind scape is canon now if you ever need a reminder 

Fictional death threats and insincere compliments the ultimate zero sum

Silent and heavy but also demonically screeching at the heavens to come get some

The sequel to sex

Nothing everywhere all the time trapped just beneath my skin

Feline hysteria crawling just behind my eyes one with my kin

Honest opinions and bleeding sarcasm

Fine tuned instruments and cataclysmic chasms

Infinite in my fragility still sprinting towards my enemies

Soaring towards the clouds looking for a remedy

A futile fuck you to entropy the struggle is the point.

A feeling of lazy anxiety like I smoked a fucking joint

Like wearing a layered mask of survivable insanity

Heat death rivaled only by my crippling profanity

I don't wear a watch 

Gender is kind of botched

[heatmiiiiser]

Ggrrr I wish disenchantment was better. I binged it all because I'm sick somebody talk to me about this.

[xitty]

Why be silly or cool when you can be both?

[waywardsalt]

linebeck is probably so god damn paranoid all of the time

[andromedasummer]

this shit sucks. tomorrow is a stay in bed and set up a writing blog day. mend my clothes day. move some boxes day.

[lord-squiggletits]

I luckily haven't been subjected to this brand of fan with my own eyes in a while, but it's hilarious to me how many IDW Megatron fans there are that hate the shit out of IDW Optimus (or any Megatron/Optimus in general) especially when they themselves are MegOP shippers. Like they'll be like "errrrmmmm Optimus is a cop fuck him he's literally evil" babe your fave is a literal dictator and a colonizer who didn't even treat his own Decepticons respectfully but IDW OP being a cop is so unforgivable? Or are we selectively applying the standard of "this is bad IRL therefore any fictional character who is X is also bad"? Megatron said he was sorry and regrets what he did but I guess you didn't read the parts where Optimus was also sorry/had regrets for what he did so that means it doesn't exist?

That or they do some crazy ass mental gymnastics to be all like "oh uh ermmm Optimus is evil because he said something mean to someone and punched them [casually fails to mention or explain the context at all]" but then with Megatron they'll turn around and be like "here's how Megatron colonizing planets was actually just him doing what needed to be done to ensure the survival of his race, also when Megatron becomes an Autobot here's how the people on the Lost Light are actually oppressing him for telling him to stop being a fucking asshole" [paraphrased versions of takes I have seen with my literal own eyes]. Like idk I feel like it's only-reads-MTMTE syndrome striking again or something? People probably don't read enough about Optimus to know the context of what he did AND they're laboring under the MTMTE illusion that Megatron was only kind of a bastard but was really good at heart, so in combination they just decide to be absolutely unhinged and say shit that isn't remotely true? Idk

Like damn you people are weak and your takes are trash. If you're gonna defend or hate a character at least do so based on accurate information from canon instead of making up weak bullshit on how Optimus sneezing on someone by accident makes the Autobots evil incarnate and how Megatron doing unspeakable crimes was just a little oopsie/him doing what had to be done. Couldn't be me.

[gender-euphowrya]

tradwives trying desperately to pretend that they're happy is just so funny

[nintendo-666]

I want to fuck opla Buggy so bad pls tell me I'm not alone

[givemebishies]

Stayed up until 6AM watching the last episode of season 3 of The Chosen w my mom I am a wreck

[thebibliosphere]

I’ve had an increase in rainbow aura with my migraines lately (I used to get them once a year, if that. Now, I’ve had it twice in one month) so I’ve become somewhat paranoid whenever something flashes over my vision.

Sometimes, it's just light reflecting off my phone, but it still makes me freeze up in a fear response when it happens because it usually means I’ve got about 20 minutes before I’m in agony.

Apparently, this new paranoia extends into my dreams now, too, because I was running down a long corridor, aware that there was something behind me that I needed to escape, but all of a sudden, in my dream, rainbow zigzags consumed my vision, and I stopped, dead and went, “fuck, migraine.”

That's when I became aware of James Bond/Daniel Craig standing beside me, gun drawn.

“Oh, shit. Do you need to lie down?” he asked while I stared at him.

I said, “What about the thing chasing us?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. If you need to lie down you can lie down. I’ll just kill them.”

I blinked at him for a bit, still winded from running then said, “Sure,” starting to get to my knees, ready to lie down on the cold stone floor beneath us.

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Kill ‘em. I’m just gonna...” I gestured vaguely at the floor. “Be right here, I guess.”

“You can go upstairs, you know,” he said, loading a fresh clip into his gun. “This museum has a hotel on top of it.”

“Oh good,” I said, starting to suspect this was a dream and not Daniel Craig about to murder the people chasing me because I had a migraine. “I’ll do that then.”

So I got back up and started climbing the stairs that looked an awful lot like the stairs in the Kelvin Grove Art Gallery, only to abruptly walk into Deathstroke and Nightwing doing their best to kill each other in the corridor of what was clearly a hotel based on the room service tray Nightwing was using to deflect projectiles.

They froze. I looked at them. They looked at me. “I’ve got a migraine,” I said,

“Shit, sorry,” Nightwing said, putting down his tray as both men stepped back to let me walk down the decimated corridor. “We’ll be more quiet.”

“Room 13 is open,” Deathstroke helpfully informed me.

“Is there a body in it?” I asked, now leaning against the wall, less walking along, more sliding.

“Not anymore.”

“Do you need anything?” Nightwing asked, “pain killers? Ice pack?”

I waved them off and made my way into room 13 where David Jason dressed as Detective Jack Frost looked up at me from the book he was reading on the bed.

“This is a dream,” he informed me.

“No it isn’t,” I said, despite knowing it was as I hobbled over to the bed and flopped down beside him. “And this room was supposed to be empty.”

“Open, not empty,” corrected Jack Banon who had taken David Frost’s place, dressed like young Alfie from Pennyworth as he sat beside me on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “There’s a very distinct difference between the two. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Who do you think moved the body?”

“I need to sleep,” I said, “if I can fall asleep, the migraine might go away.”

“That's all right,” he said. “You do that. I’ll make sure no one else comes in. Oh, just one thing before you do.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn't quite see and held it out to me. “You’ll need this.”

“What is it?” I said, my brain doing the dream thing where it refuses to read books or interpret numbers correctly. “I can’t see, what is it?”

“Oft, sorry. Can’t tell you that. More than my job’s worth.”

“You’re job...”

“Yeah.” and thats when he leaned over, stuck me with a needle and said, “Night night.”

And I woke up to the sound of @mothman-etd getting into the shower and Holly Mop wiggling under thre covers with me.

First words out of my mouth were, “What the fuck?”

And then I immediately pulled up Tumblr to write this down before I forget it because what the fuck.

Didn't wake up with a migraine though so... *knock on wood*

[nocontextlestat]

WHAT?! It's morning! I lost time. Things got a little heated— With a boy! Things got heated with a boy. I was at home picking lint off the sofa! I said to join us! The night's gone. The room's soiled and once again, I'm here with mop and mindlessness to clean it up. So the room got dirty, so what? I'll clean it up. No, I clean it up! You make the mess and I clean it up! Mark it on the calendar, align it with Ursa Major. Louis' tri-annual FUCK OFF and find me with apologies to follow. I'm sorry. SEEK comfort in the arms of lowlifes and unfortunates, and broken children, fine. Oh, fine! The fine that doesn't sound fine— But REVEALING our nature to a reporter you met in a bar ten hours ago? What if it was published? I was having some fun! You don't have enough to fear from Paris? I was in the middle of ending things, when YOU— YOU'D have been passed out on the floor next to him, Louis! Out on your feet from the drugs you stuffed him with! Oh, this is boring! You're boring! YOU ARE SO BORING! And here come the drugs. Colorless. Up the fangs, down the throat. Flavorless. Dull! Into the heart and off with the fingers, feet. Dull! Dull nights! And wallowing brain. Dull weeks, dull months, DULL AS FUCK! Suffocation by the world's softest, beige-est pillow! The ten hours I spent with that boy were more exciting, more FASCINATING, than DECADES with YOU! Oh, there it is! The half-blank, half-apocalyptic look! But what does it mean tonight, huh? Does he want to lick my boots or chop my hands off? Is it the gremlin or the good nurse tonight? Huh? Okay. Okay, perhaps. But am I as boring as the blather committed onto the ferric tapes of your fascinating boy? "Oh, it's so, so hard to be me." "Picking lint off the sofa?!" "It's so hard to kill humans." "I can feel their feelings as I drain them." You sat on your hands and put your ear to the wind. "Everyone I know wronged me." Okay. Okay, let's wake the boy up and let's try you. "I'm the vampire Armand and my daddy vampire groomed me into a little BITCH!" "My brother he tossed himself off a roof!" "Vampires who murdered my daddy made me pretend I didn't have a dick for 240 years." "My sister buried me alive. My daughter was my sister was my throw pillow. Well, he wouldn't look at me kindly. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat." I talked shit about him the whole time. So what?! THE NAME!! The name! Unuttered in our home for 23 years, said over and over again until it was pounding in my brain like a hammer. Our problems aren't about him. And you threw her name around just for cover, but it always circled back to him. I loved her. But SHE didn't love YOU. Not like he did, not like I have. I know. I know! Yes! I know. Thank you for saying it. It's all creeping back. Paris and the, uh, what, what, what? But there's... all of it coming back. There's, uh, Paris. Paris. Can you hear that? Can you hear that, hm? Can you hear her? She's calling me.