#look at this sad ant

[psythril]

leafcutter

[ants-personal]

do you think edwin ever went back home at somepoint hes well aware hes been gone far to long to see his parents alive and old but theres a small hope that maybe... he has other family that have been keeping the house and hed be able to at least see his family history and maybe proof that he wasnt forgotten completely hoping to see even a box with his stuff from his old room or a photo of him kept up with his parents so he goes alone

but he gets there and not only is the house empty its been renovated more modern standing in this white marble space hes reminded how out of place he really is in the world he really has been forgetten from the world his room repainted its like he never existed it looks to be somesort of office the attic is empty theres no piece of his parents left this isnt his home anymore its just a shell of his former self and who he can never truly be again hes just as alone as he was in hell

so he leaves and when charles asks he tells him it was nice well lived in home to a little family that arent his so he wont be going back it seems to satisfy charles and he leaves it be and edwin cant help but clutch at the notebook in his breastpocket its the last piece of his family hell ever have

[beepboopappreciation]

Sparkle on!

[dragondawdles]

I want to be less picky about what I post on tumblr vs twitter so in an effort to do this tonight you all get ravio sad ant with bindle thumbs up emoji

[oscarcito]

they didn't show Oscar's message on the helmet he gave to Fernando Alonso but I can tell you it said "did you fuck my manager Fernando Alonso "

[normystical]

drew this in school cuz im tired of not drawing in school

i think you can guess if i used a reference image or not

[ssruis]

Deeply appreciate that colopale has figured out how to straddle the line of bullying tsukasa tenma in a funny way and bullying tsukasa tenma in a way that is clearly supposed to be funny but instead makes me feel bad for him. Because he does not deserve my sympathy and I do not desire to give it to him.

[ratcandy]

there is not nearly enough sozo content going around to keep me sustained i really am gonna have to make it all myself aren't i

[legendrarry]

Okay I might get mobbed for this but, She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5 is such a Snape song?!?!

Like —

"He was always there to help her she,

Always belonged to someone else..."

!?!?!?!?!

And also —

"I don't mind spending every day

Out on your corner in the pouring rain..."

Ummm...hello?!?!

"I know that goodbye means nothing at all,

Comes back and makes me catch her

Every time she falls..."

And finally —

"Please don't try so hard to say goodbye..."

What the ever loving fuck?!?!?

Yeah.....Imma cry in Aamortentia now bye...

[secret-bug-pain-blog]

[THURSDAY]

Buried Alive - Outlived Family - "Not growing old was fun at first, but then everyone around me started dying."

Hi! Hello! We're here, Late To The Event. Technically, we have plans for all these days! We only remembered this event was ongoing halfway through the week, and by then... well, you know how it is. Technically, this isn't fully compliant with the prompt, but it's close enough that we figure it counts, since outliving his entire family was actually slightly less impactful than outliving his husband for our boy.

Fic below the cut, and @species-whump-weekly we sincerely hope this isn't too late to count.

You have been asleep for long enough that you aren't even sure if he'll still be alive.

His swarm finds you before you find them.

Marina gasps when she sees you. She's years older, now - wings worn at the edges, shell thin and flimsy, aged far beyond the young butterfly you saw her as last.

She looks older than you ever have been. She looks older than you suspect you ever will be.

Her father, your friend – your paramour, your years-long companion – isn’t with her. You fear, for a moment, you’ve stumbled upon them too late. You nearly cringe away from the migration them and there, fearful of discovering yet another thing that’s slipped away while you hibernated.

But you don’t have the heart to walk away.

He’s been waiting for you.

He is old, and frail, and dying. You can taste the creeping end in his veins from the moment you step foot into the tent. His shell is pitted with age, now, cracked and chinked in places, brittle enough that you fear taking his hand will hurt him. Time has weathered him, his wings transparent and paper-thin around him, and you… you stay the same, looking just as young as the day you first met him on the stolen life of those who unearthed your grave.

“I knew you’d come back,” he tells you. “You wouldn’t die that easily.”

You hold his frail, trembling claw in both of yours. You aren’t sure how he can say that so confidently. He has always had more faith in you than you have in yourself.

He invites you to drain him.

You hesitate, at first. Every instinct you have picked up over your long, long life is screaming for you to run. To survive, to keep your secret- he knows, and it's against everything you've ever learned to remain, to let him speak, to not preserve your life-

He knows. But maybe he's known for a long, long time.

You take his offer. You take his life.

You know what it is that killed him the moment you bite. The magic of the wastes, the low hum that seeps into your bones, the constant background noise that sometimes threatens to tear you apart - it gathers within him, down to the deepest parts of his shell. There are lumps of flesh in his heart, his lungs, full of the same mind-jarring, skull-shattering buzz.

He has the wasteland sickness.

You think that, perhaps, he has had the wasteland sickness for a long time.

You drain him until he is dry, until every last flicker of the wasteland sickness is gone from his body, until he is stiff and his flesh holds the texture of jerky, and you let your fangs linger on his shrivelled veins until you can't bear to remain anymore.

You are sick, the next day.

And the day after that, and the day after that.

The buzz is in your bones, now - too close, too loud, rattling through your shell like a twisted beast. You have the wasteland sickness, stolen from his dying body, and it is trying to take you the way it took him.

You do not die.

You don't know if it's a blessing or a curse, anymore.

It is energy. It is vitality, the buzzing, throbbing pulse beyond the heart of a beast on a scale you cannot comprehend.

It is life force, and you can stomach it just the same.

A week passes. Two weeks. The symptoms slow, as you digest it. It becomes your life, your energy, it bends to keep you alive, it becomes you, while you lie weak and dizzy and throwing up blood.

It becomes you. You become it, in turn.

It is the last pulse of your husband, and you refuse to waste it.

You stumble out of the tent two weeks later, exhausted and bearing injuries you cannot see with your naked eyes. You are tired, and hurt, and you have burnt through most of the life you had, but you are alive.

His body is still waiting for you.

[pepsicoughdrops]

I LOVE MY OCS 🫶 more stuff in tags !! ^_^

(click for better quality)

[nikoforgot]

i wanna write the lyrics here but im afraid of the cringe catching up to me in the future

[ants-personal]

this is ranson to me

[motherforthefamicom]

impulsively changed my icon hi guys

[squoobest]

1 paper done....2 more to go...

[konakoro]

Against my better judgement and the warnings of literally everyone, I am watching the 3rd Ant-Man movie...

I don't know how much longer I can watch the 3rd Ant-Man movie...