#why u gotta look at me like that

[inkz123]

*burnt my tongue with hot choco*

*immediately thinks of Error*

*stops any thought cuz hed prolly throw his slipper at me*

*sadge cat dance*

[artzyleen]

✨ Owen Teague at the London premiere for KOTPOTA ✨

[justpassingbyoursht]

Yknow when I first saw Chronos i couldn't quite take him seriously bc he's... he's a twink. who gave him that tiny tiny waist and those birthgiving hips? why is he built like that? i expected a giant or something, i mean the big 3 brothers are built ykno their father should be big muscly guy too right?? and then i realized he's got an hourglass shape and. 😶

my bad supergiant u are right. titan of time. hourglass. titan of time? hourglass. checks out ✓ he is hourglass shaped. an hourglass. ⌛that. that is him. titan of time alright. hourglass

but still that tiny waist

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[hyunpic]

hyunjin on instagram: TMA

[thelonelynindroid]

His only deanfense

[dromaeo-sauridae]

i am a man who is going to use brown while drawing

[figofswords]

i know ive made myself the #1 izutsumi stan in the eyes of all of my friends and probably some of you online people but what if i became a mithrun stan. there is something about him that compels me. i just want to *clenches fist* put him on the drying rack. lovingly stick him into a tupperware for later. make him into. a broth of some sort. do you understand

[mars-ipan]

my fellow anxiety havers what is one of your mundane day-to-day tasks that should by no means be anything remarkable but feels like you are being hunted for sport. i’ll go first: putting all of your groceries on the conveyor belt during checkout is like a long series of quick time events to me

[why-the-heck-not]

computer science was a hoax from the universe to get me to study math in the pretense of ”hehe coding’s cool look at all these things u can do” *some mf vectors looming just around the corner* ”noNO dont look there; look here!! It’s ’hello world’ but in green heheh wOoOoo now it’s blue !! u are a god of this website” *matrices sharpening their knives somewhere*

[chimerahyperfix]

cw: gore and mentioned death for like 2 lines, nervous breakdown (or at least on the edge of one). Spoilers for ISAT.

YIPPEE ONE OF THE 3 FUNNY LOOPS!!! YIPPEEEEEEE

readmore'd this one early because the cws are at the beginning (and this one's kinda chunky)

----------------

You'd been doing so well, this loop. You didn't crab anything up, you made the bomb and yet, and yet here you crabbing are, in the same bloodstained halls as always, kicking through puddles of gore like it's a normal Sunday, which you GUESS it is now!

Nothing you do matters. It doesn't matter it doesn't matter IT DOESNT! MATTER! And you just have to crabbing LIVE with it, forever, twenty four hours over and over, twenty four big metal bars of your hand-crafted cage.

So you just. Stop. Pull off to the side and sit up against a wall that isn't coated lightless with death and just.

You break down in tears.

It's still going. You're still going YOU'RE STILL GOING. One for all. Just you suffering, because everyone will be okay after you loop back, but not you! You'll carry this with you, forever! You don't want to be here anymore. You just... want it to stop.

And.

It does?

The world fades out, and not in the way it does when you die, no; it just... is suddenly dark. Thick and heavy like syrup around you. It's hard to move, to breathe. You find yourself struggling.

There are. Footsteps, coming in your direction. You can hear them clearly, like a pin dropping in a silent room. You struggle to your feet-- and it's a struggle, because you still can't breathe right and your legs shake like a newborn animal. It's a struggle to see anything around you through the veil of pure darkness that sparkles and floats around you.

And here you stand, in the sky itself, facing yourself.

More correctly, a mockery of yourself. It pulls itself forwards like you'd been doing all day, tilted and shaking and exhausted. Painted pure lightless and sparkling, like the blood painted on the King's armor. You glare daggers at it, because it is not you and if you believe it even could possibly be, even just a little, you will probably be giving it some kind of power.

It faces your direction, and it's lack of eyes and mouth sends shivers down your spine. It's not real, it's not real it's not real!!! It can't be!!! Why would this be real? You're frozen, you have to be because this is a crabbing DREAM it has to be you have to be frozen because if it's not then what the crab IS THIS, is your brain working against you? Are you imagining the frost crawling up your spine and the burning in your throat, if you try speaking you'll spit pure fire because you have Changed yourself with a capital C and Destroyed yourself with a capital D. It's a big angry mockery of yourself and you want it to go away you want everything to stop, stop, stop please--

It shifts. You move in response, nails digging into your palm. It takes a step forwards. The floor ripples like waves and they roll over your shoes, washing the blood from them. You back up some in return.

You open your mouth to say something or try and ward it off, but only a cough comes out. Blood runs down your chin.

It tilts its head (your head, YOUR head, it's freaking you right the crab out) and opens its OWN mouth, and--

It. Speaks.

[BURNING ONE.]

The sound that comes out, it's the King's voice. It shocks you still, and your lungs stop pulling in air at the pure horror. The thought hits your brain, did the King make this thing?

[Claude?]

No. No wait, now it's Euphrasie.

What.

[Do you know what this is?] Now it's Mirabelle??? [Don't drink it? What do you mean it's toxic?!]

Okay. Stop. This is making your head hurt. Like your brain has been restarted, turned off and back on again. You've run directly into a brick wall and now you're just confused. It's... using other's voices. Mockeries. Pulling from random conversations that you've just barely remembered. Mirabelle poured one of your potions on a plant she tried to grow once and it killed it. You hadn't cared at the time, but now, now... you'll never leave your stuff out again. That very same potion killed you, and it could've killed HER.

You know damn well what you've worked with. The plants and chemicals, toxic in every way. You'd always liked to dance on the edge of safety, tempting death to come get you: maybe that's why you're here now, doomed to repeat the same day over and over. Death coming back to laugh at you and take your soul, over and over again.

Maybe this thing is Death, coming to mock you face to face. Wouldn't that be a crabbing laugh? The very concept of the end, pointing and laughing right in front of you, using the voices of the ones you love. What a crabbing joke.

[Claude,] it pulls from Euphie again. [Are you okay?]

No. Why would you be okay, at this point? It tilts its head, and you shake yours. Crab it. Why not. Your voice is failing, withering away in the furnace of your mouth.

[HOW HAVE YOU DONE IT?] It echoes the King's voice at a louder volume.

You know. You know, you know you know. You wished, and figured out something new, something different, and now you have eternity and you want it to stop.

[Are you enjoying yourself over there?] Ohhh, oh you need it to stop using her voice. Twisting your girlfriend's kindly voice into something wrong, using it against you. You throw a punch, and it surges back.

[What do you mean, you've done this before?] Why, why is it doing this to you. You want it to stop you want it to go away you want to. [Can you tell me what happened?]

You can't. You don't, you don't want to do this anymore. Make it stop. Make it stop.

It looks at you. At your clasped together hands.

[YOU?]

Your voice sputters to life. Gurgles over blood. "I don't remember."

It opens its mouth.

[I wish...] Oh... that's...

[I wish we had more time!]

It reaches out, and grabs you by the lapel of your draping coat. Pulls you forwards. Your legs buckle under you, and it slightly holds you up. Looks down at you.

It has eyes behind the glasses now. Irises curled with spirals, the same crabbed up shade yours are.

[I'M SORRY.]

That's... that's you.

[THIS WAS THE DESTINED OUTCOME OF THE EXPERIMENT.]

Ahh...

The ice creeps up your back. Daggers and pins in your spine, between the bones.

[IT'S TIME TO GO TO SLEEP.]

You wished for more time, and...

It lets you go. You fall limp.

You can't move.

That's okay.

[BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD.]

You

Let go.

(If you had held out for five more minutes, you could've been there, beside yourself, when your hopelessness ate you alive and turned you into a Sadness. Watched as they found you, how they screamed, and how they had to kill what was left of you. Lucky you!)

[souporsaladnatural]

Jackles why did you put Walkin After Midnight, a song about searching for your lover, and Rebel, a song about a wanted man running while wishing his lover was with him, in the winchesters and have dean say he'll keep picking the music. Why did u do that

[toytulini]

man the thing about beauty standards and being ugly and being pretty and being insecure is that ultimately you do just kinda have to Decide that youre pretty. like ultimately thats how you become pretty, or hot, or sexy. you have to just Decide that you Are. you have to recognize that its made up, its arbitrary, its subjective, and that people might disagree with you about it, and as much as you are able, you need to completely and utterly disregard their opinions on your appearance, and decide that youre pretty now. and THEN.

you need to find beauty in "ugly". you need to recognize that ugly is made up, that its arbitrary, that its subjective, and you need to be able to find the beauty in it all. and this means you cant bodyshame people. you cant body shame shitty celebs or politicians. you need to base your criticisms on the substance of their character and misdeeds and unhinged horrific opinions and not give a shit about what they look like. you cant go calling people ugly for being shitty. you cant go calling people ugly for looking A Way You Dont Like.

and then if you wanna really galaxy brain this shit you start using ugly as endearment. OBVIOUSLY do not fucking call other human beings ugly. that shit is far too loaded, its just Rude. Dont call specific features of people or even characters ugly cos thats also too loaded. as a term it has baggage. but you can see the ugly in tacky, loud, garish clothing, and it can be Good. you can see the ugly in a distinctive, horrible tiny car from the 90s, and it can be good. you can see the ugly in animals that have evolved to look the way they do, without a single thought of what humans find appealing. you can see the beauty and the freedom in "Ugliness". you can break out of this shit altogether and feel nothing but disdain for anyone who stoops to insulting your appearance if they disagree with you about shit. you can get completely out of the cave of these beauty standards. you can find it so freeing to revel.in letting yourself be ugly. in recognizing that the way you look and exist might be ugly to some people, and youre out of the cave enough to simply recognize. thats just your opinion and it doesnt matter. didnt ask.

you can look at ppl arguing about the correct amount of skincare products to use daily, the Correct Amount of makeup, and whether or not its radical to conform to beauty standards or defy them and argue about is it really conforming if visible makeup pisses men off, and you can say, well I dont care about any of that, I recognize the societal pressures of flawless skin and all that but you see,

I just want to look like a silly little clown :o3

[perilegs]

ok i finally figured guyliner out - it's so over for u guys

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OH ARTHUR BENNETT.. such a gorgeous and intriguing character. terribly burdened by a GRUESOME set of crimes, his light suffocated by a HEAVY century of GUILT. so tragic, so dark and broody, and yet PAINFULLY awkward in any social setting ever

[steakout-05]

i think there is a very special category of "most dense mfer in the world" for people irl who somehow misgender me (and continue to misgender me) despite me wearing multiple layers of men's clothing, cutting my hair short, not shaving, binding my chest and wearing a very visible and big he/him pin on my bag. disrespectfully: how the actual hell did you fuck up that badly.