#thoughts fuckit

[suntails]

a living bolt ⚡

[sluckythewizard]

'I wont cry for you, I wont crucify the things you do. I wont cry for you, see, when you're gone, I'll still be BLOODY MARY'

[x-heesy]

𝙶𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝙰 𝙻𝚎𝚇: 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 😂

G҉ l҉ i҉ t҉ c҉ h҉  m҉ y҉  L҉ i҉ f҉ e҉ 

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎

𝙸 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚒𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚛

𝙵𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙰.𝙼.

𝙸’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚢 ‚𝚎𝚖

𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚘, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 ‚𝚎𝚖

𝙸’𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊

𝙹𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚜, 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝙸 𝚊𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝙲𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚎

𝙰𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚟𝚢

𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚛𝚞𝚋𝚢

𝙸𝚝 𝚊𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎

𝚂𝚘𝚗’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗

𝙸’𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚖

𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚜

𝙴𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝

‚𝙲𝚞𝚣 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚘𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍’𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛

𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎, 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚎, 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎?

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗‘

𝙸 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗‘

𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚘𝚏𝚏, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚒𝚜

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚊

𝙰𝚍𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚝, 𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛?

𝚁𝚘𝚋𝚋𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚕𝚢

𝙱𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑, 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚖𝚎

𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚙, 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎

𝙰𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝚂𝚝��𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚘𝚛 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚔, 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚔, 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝

𝚃𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚗‘

𝚃𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚊

𝙸𝚝’𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚓𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚊

𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚖, 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛

𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚎, 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜, 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊

𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚖𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊

𝙸’𝚖 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗‘, 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗

𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 ‚𝚌𝚞𝚣 𝙸’𝚖 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗‘ 𝙷𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚢

𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗‘, 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎

𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗‘

𝙵𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍

𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸’𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜

𝙾𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋, 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎

𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗‘ 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝

(𝙸’𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝)

𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝙵𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝 @bigbonzo 😂

[fellhellion]

hayan charara / ella wilson / r.i.d / i.b. vyache / lily saarinen (to jean stein)

[chaos-kathi]

Ich hab das Gefühl das meine Gefühle kein Platz in dieser Welt haben, das diese falsch sind..Ich falsch bin..

[onedragonaday]

1/24/24 Barba from Zelda II: The Adventure of Link

[officialraylynn]

Love... Is in the air.

Also posted on AO3!!

Commission for @farmernotafarmer of Sable Ward and Danny Olsen (Ghostface) in their AU that was super fun to dabble in :D

Warnings and tags: Macabre Muse; first kiss, obsession, violent thoughts, violent urges, discussions of murder, trust, vulnerability, temptation, dreams and nightmares, the entity, bruises, fluff, wholesome, worship

Summary:

Sable is, apparently, the one urge Danny struggles to deny himself.

It was the perfect evening.

Through the open window, past the curtains wafting from a gentle breeze, the sky bled beautiful and vibrant across the horizon. Night was approaching, swallowing the hues of sunset in its abyssal maw, glistening teeth of stars soon to shine.

As the sunlight faded (soft glow replaced by the harsh white of the streetlights outside) the humidity plaguing Sable's small bedroom faded with it. With it gone, the lazily lounging (for even with the open window it had been too hot and humid for any activity) couple were given reprieve, were finally given the chance to take advantage of their day off.

For Danny, that meant getting messy.

Hauling his sketchbook out and plopping into a well-worn beanbag chair in the corner, his charcoals (current preferred medium) and sketch pencils within arm's reach. He started sketching with nothing specific in mind, trusting that before long something would spark inspiration— especially once Sable was finally ready to begin recording her podcast.

Sable never failed to inspire him, but like this? Headphones nestled among messy hair; pale legs awkwardly criss-crossed with her knees poking out from under the arms of her computer chair, the look of deep concentration on her face highlighted by the artificial glow of her monitor... She was breathtaking.

Mind you, Danny always thought Sable was attractive, there was simply something about her like this. Dressed down in a tank top and sleep shorts; emotions so free on her face, relaxed and open for him to see every flaw and perfect imperfection. Her vulnerability, her faith and trust in him— how could he ever ask for a more graceful, more beautiful sight?

"Good evening fine listeners."

Sable's voice broke Danny out of his starry-eyed staring, and he ducked his head to return his attention back to his sketchbook. He wouldn't want to psyche her out by so blatantly reminding her of her physical audience, after all.

"Tonight, I'll be talking about the mysterious "Love Letter Murderer". Strap yourselves in folks, this one's not your average serial killer- and if you're triggered by stalking, this is your warning to stop listening now."

For her, Danny had tried to resist. Had kept his gaze firmly on the paper in his hands, refused to be swayed... But Sable's voice (the passion, the melodic lilt, how powerful she made her words) was a siren's song his valiant attempts crumbled beneath.

By the time Sable was describing the murders, voice low and hushed for both dramatic effect and respect for the dead, Danny was ensnared. His hands skimmed listlessly over his sketchbook; his eyes transfixed on the way Sable gestured as she spoke, his ears hearing her voice but not taking in her words. She was beautiful, ethereal even. Something not of this world, brought into his life to tempt him— tempt him into what, he wasn't sure, but he had fallen hard.

Fallen into fantasies, his thoughts consumed by her. Thoughts of date nights and cozy mornings in. Of her pale skin, how easily it would bruise, how beautiful it would look blooming purple in the shape of his handprints. Of her voice, lovely and serene— the sounds of her screams (of pleasure, of pain) beneath him (his hands, his knife).

Danny didn't hear his sketchbook clatter to the ground as he stood, abrupt and urgent like a man entranced. Sable (headphones on and engrossed with her podcast) didn't notice his approach, his presence looming behind her or his hands reaching towards her.

"— One of many unanswered questions about these killings, is 'were they crimes of passion?'— huh?"

Danny's fingers pushed against Sable's jaw, tilting her head back so she could see him standing behind her. Confusion flickered across her face, but before she could finish asking "What's up?" Danny leaned in and rendered her silent by melding his mouth against hers.

Sable gasped, but didn't draw away. For those few heartbeats, this blissful eternity, nothing but this precious first kiss existed in the world.

It couldn't last forever, though, and soon Sable was pulling away from his touch and removing her headphones— the soft, fond look on her face was one Danny would cherish.

"What brought this on?" She asked, voice as gentle as her expression.

Danny shrugged and settled his hands on her shoulders, thumbs idly rubbing circles into them. "You're just..." he waffled for words before settling on kissing her forehead. "So damn beautiful."

Sable’s hands rose and settled over his, giving them an affectionate squeeze. “Am I now?” The bemused tone of her voice made Danny kiss her cheek, something very much like love unfurling in his chest.

“You’re spectacular.” Another kiss to her cheek, causing her to laugh oh-so-sweetly. “Breathtaking, inspirational,” his kisses swept over her face and pressed against her jaw, “simply amazing.”

“My my~” Sable laughed and titled her head to give him more room at her throat. “Should I talk about murderers more—” she cut herself off with a strangled sound, flailing slightly as she pulled away from Danny “—I’m still recording!”

Danny laughed and leaned over her shoulder, watching as she fussed with her recording and adjusted her equipment. Like this, flustered and huffy and real, she was less a fantasy and more… A tether to reality. This was what he wanted. Laughter, tender touches, the trust in her eyes when she gazed up at him with his hands so close to her neck.

“—I think if I just re-record from here, it should be fine—”

Content, he rested his head against Sable’s, soaking in her presence, allowing the warmth in his chest to take root. Maybe it wasn’t a fairy tale first kiss, but he was no Prince, and Sable was a witch not a Princess. He may have been charmed, swayed by dark temptation, but just as she had unwittingly bewitched him she had brought him to the light again.

Like this, Danny affectionately by Sable’s side, their perfect evening faded into a domestic night in. When the yawns seemed to never stop, when eyes were more closed than open, the couple retreated to bed. Sleep came for them quickly, but while Sable’s was restful and calm, Danny’s was plagued by murky dreams.

Dreams of a sketchbook filled with haunting and grotesque images, each page a different depiction of him intimately and violently murdering his muse, his beloved. A voice, timeless and ancient, spoke to him in these dreams, commanding him to follow, guiding him to a fog so dark it was a misty abyss.

If it wasn’t for Sable’s voice, faint yet pure and pleading, calling for him, a beacon for him to find his way home to her… Who knows if morning’s light would have shone on him again.

[bluntloyalist]

and I'm not even sure gamma radiation would do anything

[firemama]

If I had the power to become a Disney bitch that can just remake one of their classics because that's what Disney does these days, id remake Aladdin.

It'd still be animated and the goal would be a consistent style trilogy (without the sudden and sharp drop in animation quality preferably please god).

Completely scrapping the 'return of Jafar' plot line, I'd make the second movie in the trilogy about exploring the ramifications of aladdin's wish. He did not wish to *look* like a prince, he wished to BE a prince. Somewhere out there aladdin is the prince of some country or city or something and I would love to explore that as a technicality to aladdin and jasmine trying to get married. Especially if perhaps that kingdom is NOT on good terms with agrabah. They're trying to get all the arrangements done and theres a big joke about paperwork and getting the prince-requirment law squared away and then bam, the "well actually-" comes from genie and the rest of the movie is about exploring this new territory of aladdin. Who is marrying into Royalty and Politics, actually having to deal with some of that.

And then at the end of the movie, when all of that is sorted out, genie drops the second "well actually-" that aladdin was always sort of a prince anyway. Just not the inherited of any kind of land. You see, al, buddy, your dad's a king of thieves.

Movie three is that the wedding is once, again, delayed. Because now we have to deal with the fuckin ramifications of "what the fuck do you mean I'm the son of a famous criminal?" And the revelation that genie actually knows aladdin's parents. Movie three includes returning to the Magic Treasure Hoard where aladdin initially gets the lamp- "only One May Enter Here" being that aladdins father (deceased) left the cave as a sort of will of his treasure trove, a bounty worthy of a King Of Thieves. Including the most valuable artifact of the trove, the Genie In The Lamp, the most valuable treasure that was responsible for aladdin's fathers success as the king of thieves in the first place. We see some stories of Genie and Aladdins father- from rags to riches via crime, maybe the love story of aladdin's parents, (maybe some hints to why genie says "i dont like doing it" as to being able to bring back the dead rather than outright "i cant do it") and plausibly that the genie and aladdins father made the same deal, I'll use my two wishes and then free you, but (possibly following that failed attempt to bring back the dead as in trying to bring back aladdin's dead mother shortly after aladdin is born?) In the grief of that failure aladdin's father decides to use his last wish (possibly to arrange the Cave of Wonders for his sons inheritance or something) and ultimately betrays genies trust.

We get a little heart to heart with aladdin and genie- "I don't think your dad was a bad guy, per se, but-" and the classic Disney "what matters is that you kept your promise, and that's why I've stuck with you even after freedom, it's the magic of friendship"

and then once we work out reparations of the cave of wonders - using all of that stolen fortune inheritance to better aladdin's accidentally aquisitioned kingdom, and provide agrabah a stable fucking childcare system for orphans, and a whole other musical mintage of do-gooding, they FINALLY get their royal wedding- a unity wedding between these two lands and isn't it glamorous.

ON A COMPLETELY UNRELATED NOTE.

The whole big damb deal where Aladdin and Jasmines partnership is weighted against the genies freedom is so stupid when you consider. Aladdin could have just fucking handed the lamp to Jasmine? 3 more wishes. They solve the whole thing in movie one. Jasmine gets the lamp, makes a wish that Jafar will never escape the cave of wonders, wishes that there were bo laws restricting her personal freedoms any more than anyone else (marry who she wants AND go to the market) and then a third wish that argrbah under her rule will know ages of peace and tranquility. Then she hands that damb lamp back to Aladdin, Aladdin wishes the genie free, big happy celebration fireworks scene. (They do the heart to heart thing where they say they'll miss eachother after genie cuts himself off from talking about seeing the world. Obviously. That still needs to happen. They're friends, you honor.)

[micrononymous]

Internal Log - 27

[A document tucked in the back of the files on the tablet once more]

I don't know what happened to the others really. All I know is that at some point I stopped seeing them around. Some of them vanished entirely before the Lively Ones did. I don't know where they went. My Friend says that there were problems between the Artist and them.

I do not know what to think of this. My Friend doesn't either. The music is still there, although it's usually loud now. It's almost comfortable now.

I miss the Lively Ones. My Friend does too. They say that it all ends eventually, and that eventually we both will simply cease to exist at some point as well. I know. I almost wish They would find something else for me to do though.

They say that They might be able to find something new for me to do, maybe with others again. I don't mind the quiet. I miss learning new things.

I don't think I ever learned where the music comes from. They - My Friend doesn't know if They hear it. Sometimes they do, but not often. Bad days They said.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the song, just lyrics to a tune that's gone so long without them.

[princessyeji26]

Fuck it Burn It I'm not sorry

[dkpepper]

Emergency Funds

Haha apartment hunting while changing jobs while buying a car amirite?

I need $400 within like a week to cover an apartment+pet deposit while I deal with other bills please help.

paypal: @squeakbox755@gmail.com

venmo: @PookaPrince

$40/$400 - October 5th

[theredhobbit]

Science is getting closer to proving that paralell universes exist.

Science and all its algorithms have always muted any passion inside me but now I find myself yearning to be a scientist so I may be an apprehensive spectator for the moment they discover the alternate reality where I can actually love you.

In some place, some time, some otherworldly existence, we are sitting on your couch on Sunday nights, watching TV, or listening to music. In some other world, you proudly introduce me to the people you love and not hesitate to show it. In this vast concept of a dimension where I can make you sandwiches on a semi regular schedule, and remind you how remarkable you are.

How do I get there?

[lookninjas]

So I actually have a story about how the cover art for this last issue of FUCKIT came to be. 

For those who follow me and don’t blog the FUCKIT: the zine tag (thank you for that, by the way), you’ll probably remember that when I was recruiting for submissions, the image I was using was this guy:

Super fun, right?  Definitely suits the theme of “countering a culture.”  Hideously relevant, what with all the drag bans and everything.  I’d put a lot of time into it (the tackiest art is always the hardest), and I’d enjoyed the time I put into it and I was very attached to it and that was the direction for the issue, I was sure.

I also made that decision back in, like, October.  By February, shit had changed. 

Some of that’s just February, to be fair.  Winter is rough, and the end is the roughest part.  Melancholy is a natural element of the season.  Some of it was Terry Hall dying back in December, which got me back into a lot of music I hadn’t really listened to for a long time, which got me thinking about different things (as music always does).  All the bits and pieces of ideas I’d been rolling over to find subject matter for the zine didn’t really compel me anymore.  None of the ideas that did appeal to me really matched up with smirking John Waters on the Cross.  But letting go of the concept seemed short-sighted, and potentially self-indulgent.  What if people had been writing to the theme I’d presented, with the imagery I’d given them, and then I changed it last second?

Then I read @ximen​‘s piece for the zine.

I know no one’s had a chance to read it yet apart from me (although that’s obviously going to change for several of you in the next couple of weeks, depending on shipping times, and also you can get the zine here), but to give some kind of context:  One of the running themes of the piece is Eric Clapton’s not-nearly-as-infamous-as-it-ought-to-be, deeply racist rant at a concert in 1976.  If you’re not interested in reading it -- well, don’t blame you.  It’s unforgivably bad, and his attempts to walk it back have been not terribly great, actually.  However.  Something genuinely good came out of Clapton’s bullshit, and that was Rock Against Racism, a group of musicians and activists who put on show after show after show in the UK and the USA to fight back against the rising tide of racism, facism, and nationalism.  Over the course of five years, RAR worked to unite ordinary people to fight against groups like the National Front, and inspired people to get involved by founding their own RAR groups, hosting their own RAR concerts and festivals...

And starting bands, of course, like a little group from Coventry that started off as the Coventry Automatics, and eventually became the Specials. 

(pictured:  Terry Hall and Neville Staple of the Specials at a RAR concert in Leeds)

I’ve always been a big fan of provocation.  I love it.  I think people need to be rattled up a bit sometimes.  But I’ve also always been a big fan of earnest, sincere, dirty-handed work, in the power of ordinary people in sufficient numbers to make a real difference, and that’s what RAR represents to me.  That’s what the Specials represent to me, and that’s what Terry Hall represented to me. 

They didn’t free the world from racism, and that’s okay.  “You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it,” and all.  But they saw the way the culture was moving, and they worked to counter it.  And, you know, Enoch Powell never got anywhere despite having Clapton on his side, so you can’t say they did nothing, either.

So I changed the cover of the zine, to give tribute to them, and to give Clapton the finger one more time.

The theme for next month’s zine is currently the Specials-inspired, “We Sell Hope.”  What that’s going to look like, coming out in a Pride month that sees the LGBTQ+ community under attack in hundreds of ways, I can’t possibly imagine.  I might bring John on the Cross back.  I might do something else.  Hopefully, I’ll be working on some voter registration stuff at that point, although we’ll see how it goes.  However it goes, hopefully we’ll see you there.

Remember:  Make art, help people.

[chaos-kathi]

Tu' nicht so, als wär' es meine Schuld

Vergiss nicht wie du warst, die letzten Jahre

Immer wenn du sagst, bitte, reiß dich mal zusammen

Ist da kein Respekt, muss hier weg..

[mercuryferns]

🐞welcome to my personal swamp! 🐞

You can call me Mercury or Fern, I do not mind. Its not my real name anyway. I am a 19 year old South African artist drawing whatever I want.

Stuff:

I keep my gender private (ish) online. Its just for the sake of anonymity.

I started this account when I was relatively new to tumblr and I have a whole tagging system to organize my posts better! This is so my reblogs and my art and my dumb shitposting can be easily separated. See below

🐞 tagging system 🐞

Rb: reblogs

Fave: favorite posts (consists of art i love too)

Art by other people: specifically art reblogs

Tw: for anything potentially triggering

Mercuryferns requests: requests people have sent in and i have completed

Mercuryferns ocs: my characters!

Mercuryferns art: all my art

(*my characters also have their own individual tags which you can find. They all end in “from mercury”. For example, jack from mercury)

🐞 Boundaries 🐞

Do not repost my art without my consent and credit. This does not include reblogs and retweets those are awesome.

You may use my art in edits, as a profile picture, etc. But again, with my permission and credit, which I may not always grant.

Don’t even consider asking me to sell you my art as an NFT. Its a no. Always.

🐞 commission info + FAQ 🐞

Do you take commissions?

Occasionally. At the moment I only take commissions from people who can pay in ZAR or from those I’ve met in person due to complications regarding PayPal. But hopefully it’ll be fixed soon.

Do you take requests?

Yes. I don’t always do them though. If you send in a request theres like a 25 percent chance I’ll fulfill.

What software do you use?

Procreate with an iPad air 2 and no stylus or apple pen. I’ve been fingerpainting for so long its now actually hard to use a pen lmao. Also sometimes Xencelabs tablet with Macbook air and clip studio but said laptop is so old and broken.

Suffice it to say, I do not recommend using my software. I can’t afford the fancy stuff and I am too lazy either way.

What brushes do you use?

I make most of my brushes. Or at least personalize the default procreate ones. I’ve made a separate post about it.

Do you sell prints?

Working on it!

Can I use your art as an NFT-

No. Also I will block you.