#surely there is a fourth now?

[feelo-fick]

more misc au art... (the last two are unrelated but shh)

GAAAHHHH i promise ive got actual stuff cooking im just scared to post it/motivation to finish art Hard :"D clutching my head... always forever 24/7 thinking about them...

[xxplastic-cubexx]

so like do you think they made the plastic wheelchair ALONGSIDE the plastic prison as a Just In Case situation, only after they realized charles was going to be a frequent visitor, or both as in because they knew charles was going to be the only person visiting him during planning they decided to make him a chair ahead of time

[eerna]

HELLO WHAT THE SHIT IS THIS MY LADY JANE TRAILER

[silentwalrus1]

if i have to read one more published fantasy book that uses irl memes and online vernacular in its dialogue i’m taking away the toys until y’all can learn to respect yourselves. Not only does it break immersion in your world and detract from your characters having their own voices, it also makes you, the author, seem like a dim parrot incapable of neither original thought nor basic understanding of the passage of time

1) due to the timeline of publishing, any meme included will automatically be hopelessly dated by the time the story reaches readers and

2) it’s literally the same thing Ready Player One did. Hey look i’m pointing at a thing in pop culture. Did you get my reference? Did you get it? Let me list some more colors and shapes you recognize. Did you get it? And then Gideon Nav hit the dab or whatever. Hashtag Relatable!

It’s so painfully unfunny and uncompelling every time. We can do better. Apply some creativity to your own work

[hipsternumbertwo]

Sniper Chess Is BACK!!!!!

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

I am once again going down the rabbit hole of trying to figure out the ages of the Gallifrey characters

[ferulifolia]

so i got obsessed with a new danmaku series

[syxnewt]

the ability to change fate... that's the power you were fighting to stop.

redraw of something i made at 14!!! wild how time passes

no effects vers and original under the cut

dated august 3, 2020. so i was actually 13 but I don't feel like correcting it. basically 14

the little caption i put is the one i made for this in ibis paint lmao

[rowlfthedog]

I LOVE END OF THE YEAR HOLIDAYS (Muppets Haunted Mansion & Christmas Carol season)!!!!!!!!!

[s-h-a-s-e]

there's a lot for the fourth doctor. like... a lot a lot. to point that i'm gonna have to put the rest in a separate post smh. (though, honestly, this was also to be expected lol)

[1] [2] [3] [4.2] [5] [6.1] [6.2] [7] [8] [9.1] [9.2] [10.1] [10.2] [10.3] [10.4] [11.1] [11.2] [11.3] [11.4] [11.5] [12.1] [12.2] [12.3] [12.4] [13.1] [13.2] [13.3] [14] [15.1]

[stories-by-rie]

how to feel excited about my own projects again

[emily-mooon]

Did some outfit sketches for Stacey cause my girl deserves some cute outfits for the summer!

(Read tags for more info if you’d like)

[freensrcha]

the face of someone who knows who's dealing with who exactly

MY SCHOOL PRESIDENT | EPISODE 8

[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.

[grahamcore]

i feel like will would mildly celebrate the fourth of july because he grew up southern and it’s nostalgic and also a national holiday and blah blah whatever point is it’s so fucking funny when you imagine the catastrophic impact this would have on hannibal because. you’ve gotta eat hot dogs on the fourth right? so imagine hannibal coping with will insisting on eating all american hot dogs every fourth. the love of his life eating like the single most processed food out there i think his head would fully explode

[donaviolet]

Artfight Ultimate Finale!!

As my first Artfight, this was way more fun than I thought it would be!! I really loved all attacks I recieved too and there were still so many attacks I wanted to do asdsadjsajdsahddhj

I'm already excited for next year!!

(Here are some Attacks I was only able to finish on paper :P)

Hope you guys had a great Artfight as well!! ✨