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do I hate twilight? absolutely.

do i absolutely love twilight? undoubtedly.

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1hr ago me was wrong btw

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Actually my favorite replacement for both 'kill myself' jokes and jokes about reacting violently to things/people that upset me is "I'm going to end up on the news" like it's versatile, it's vague, it's not going to get me in trouble with any censors or websites that take joke threats seriously, it's family friendly while still getting the point across, what's not to love???

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survived checking my bank account. i deserve a little treat

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not writing, not not writing, but a secret third thing

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y’all ever fantasize about a fictional character a little too hard to the point you’re convinced you should be admitted to a mental hospital?

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ALRIGHT hear me out-

Goblin king:

Also goblin king:

Human BK would just look like David Bowie and nobody will fight me on this because yes.

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If there was a way to run SUPER MEGA AD BLOCKER on this website I fucking would

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The “Open in App” button was out there to taunt you. it sends you to the app store even though you already own the app and it will never let you see the post on your phone browser. they do this because they hate yoy

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I want the writer’s strike to last until they get everything they demand and more. I want the SAG strike to last until AI is entirely forbidden across the board in the entire industry. I want CGI artists to unionize and strike. I want animators to strike. I want composers and directors and designers and VAs and techies and producers and stage hands and game devs and programmers and recording artists to strike.

I want every aspect of the entertainment industry brought to a grinding halt for months or even years to take it from the corps and put it back in the hands of the artists.

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Triple-sleeved leather jacket aside, it was Brian Froud who created possibly the most defining element of Jareth’s wardrobe. “I was scheduled to be onstage somewhere recently,” Froud says, “And when I came out, there was applause. I said, ‘Yes, I am the man who designed the pants for David Bowie!’ Everybody cheered.”

There’s no way to avoid the subject. Jareth’s pants are undeniably tight, undeniably revealing, and, at first glance, almost over the line for the garb of an adult male character featured in a film with a young teenaged heroine. “We got in a bit of trouble about how tight his pants were,” Froud admits, “but the choice was deliberate.”

Within the context of the film, Froud explains, those pants are representative of that innocent girl’s imagination. “We’re not looking at reality. We’re inside this girl’s head. Jareth has the tight pants because he is many, many things that a teenaged girl relates to. He is a rock star, and he is also a leather jacket guy–a classic ‘bad boy’–and he’s Heathcliff, and also a ballet dancer. I gave him a swagger stick that has a crystal ball on it, but if you look at it closely, it’s a microphone! There are a lot of subtleties going on there, but it was always this romantic figure that I was after. He was never quite real. He’s an amalgam of the inner fantasies of this girl.”

- Labyrinth: The Ultimate Visual History (2016)

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The World Of Becca Blake

Art by Dan Schkade

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vampires have been drinking human blood for centuries they don't give a fuck about guys on eight different antidepressants. they were sucking on asbestos factory workers

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Another Life || Carlisle Cullen x Deaf!GN!Reader

Im taking a crack at this fanfiction stuff. Im so sorry if this isn’t good at all ;-; Anyways, this is inspired by an art piece I saw on Twitter a long time ago and thought it would make a pretty scenario… Enjoy?

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You walked throughout the gallery, taking in the old and precious art on the walls. The paintings telling their own personal stories yet speaking close to your heart at the very same time. It’s a lot easier to find comfort in art and books than music or television when you don’t have the ability to hear the latter. Not impossible, of course. Just easier is all.

You keep a steady pace, drinking it all in when you come across a very tall painting. It consists of a Man, dressed in fancy attire, kneeling before a Monarch of some sort. You slowly halt your steps in front of the Monarch, studying their features. Something about them seemed so familiar, their face shape, their eyes, their skin.

‘𝘏𝘶𝘩.’ You thought to yourself. ‘𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵.’

You slightly smile and roll your eyes.

‘𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩. 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐’𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳.’

You didn’t think of yourself as broken. In fact, being deaf was nice sometimes. But living in a hearing world while being, well, the exact opposite, was very frustrating. People are rude, ableist and overall disrespectful to to those with disabilities. That’s part of the reason you came to this art gallery, here it’s a social norm to be as quiet as a mouse. So you never had to worry about people talking to you and expecting you to respond.

Until today, of course.

During your series of thoughts regarding the Monarch, and how similar you both looked, you missed a certain pale man standing next to you. His features also seemingly identical to the man in the painting. I mean, it was him after all. Not a thing had changed since the painting was made. Well, except his fashion choice, of course.

He went to the gallery for, ironically, the same reason as you. Well, almost. Having extreme sensitive hearing was getting to him. Being a doctor, plus a vampire, he heard everything. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. He needed an escape, somewhere that silence was a given. He did hear the occasional whispers of awe and confusion, but he didn’t mind. It was better than a library, where he had already read all the books they had to offer.

It was also slightly amusing. Some of the people in the paintings he had met in real life, and hearing peoples theories of who they were and what they were like was entertaining. The real fun though, were the paintings he’s in. Of course there’s the one in his home of him in Volterra. But he’s been around for hundreds of years, there was obviously more than that one painting.

Oh and there were. Walking slowly through the gallery, he came across the same picture you were standing in front of. His appearance in the painting catching his eye as he walked towards it. But nothing could have prepared him for you. As he got closer to you he noticed how… 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳, you looked.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧…

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵.

He stopped in front of himself (in the painting, of course). Yet, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of 𝘺𝘰𝘶. Everything about you reminded him of them. He’s usually extremely aware of his manners, not staring when he sees someone familiar to his old friends from centuries ago, but he couldn’t help it. You were exactly like them.

He had to say something, yet he was frozen in place.

‘𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦!’ He thought.

He was plucking up the courage to speak to you, embarrassed over the fact that he was reduced to silence. After everything he had seen and been through, you’d think he’d have better control over his emotions. Yet, here he was, just another statue among the gallery. He was gonna talk to you, he had already made up his mind. Here he goes!

Just before he could utter a single word, you turned towards him, aiming to walk away, but instead finding a man staring at you like you had two heads.

‘𝘖𝘩 𝘯𝘰, 𝘩𝘦’s 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦!’

That would be the only explanation right? He was staring at you, waiting for you to respond when you hadn’t heard what he had said in the first place! You immediately start signing in hopes he understands you’re situation. Your hands quickly gesturing towards your ears, trying to silently explain you hadn’t heard anything he had said.

However, your panicked signing and the better view of your face had only pulled him deeper into his memories. The relationship between him and the human in the painting was simple. The human had no ability to hear, yet he had the ability to hear more than any human alive. He promised to keep them safe, to be their guide, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. In return, they promised their silence, to keep his secret.

While he was reminiscing, you were panicking.

‘𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥! 𝘖𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥? 𝘉𝘰𝘵𝘩!?’

You remembered the notepad in your bag. You had brought it for this exact reason, not everyone knows sign. However, tapping your ear and eluding to the fact you’re deaf seems a little hard to miss. Maybe he just lacked common sense? Though, before you could pull your pen and pad out, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You looked towards the man, curious.

“𝙄’𝙢 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮. 𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.” He signed.

Your mouth gaped, he was signing?

“𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙝 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙠.” He continued.

Now was your turn to be frozen. You genuinely weren’t expecting him to sign back, it’s definitely not something you were used too. After a small pause you started to giggle, pulling your hands out of your bag.

“𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙄𝙢 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚.” You signed back.

“𝘿𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮, 𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙎𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜.”

That made your anxiety go down a bit, but some of it still stayed. You just made a fool of yourself in front of someone who hadn’t said a word to you. You felt the heat rush back to your cheeks.

“𝘿𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙, 𝙞𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙄 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚. 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙚. 𝙄’𝙢 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣.” He signed bashfully.

You shook your head lightly, still keeping your eyes on him. Now you were staring at the beautiful pale man. But now, you had an idea. You reached back into your bag, grabbing your notebook and your pen. He looked at you confused. He could sign, you didn’t need the notebook. You quickly scribbled your name and number onto a paper before tearing it off and handing it to him, stuffing the notepad and pen back in your bag.

“𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚?” You smiled, handing him the paper shakily

He took the paper and held it in his cold hands, reading it while smiling a bittersweet smile. He folded the paper, putting it in his pocket.

“𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡… 𝙔/𝙣.”

You let out a small breath, relaxing your shoulders. You were more nervous of his answer than you thought.

“𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙩…” you gestured towards him, awaiting his name.

“𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙡𝙚.” He answered.

“𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙡𝙚. 𝙎𝙚𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣.”

You started walking the way you had originally planned to, had you not met Carlisle. Wanting to go home for the day, and also not wanting to spontaneously combust from how anxious you were. Your heart was beating so fast it was almost humming. Being extra self-conscious of how you were walking, you planned each step before you took it.

He smiled as you walked away in a controlled manner, chuckling to himself. He wanted to see what other exhibits the gallery had to offer, starting to walk towards the next painting. But not before taking one last glance at the painting of his old friend. A friend from another life.

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Here you are, an extremely small one-shot! First time writing anything like this so don’t be too harsh.