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Latest Posts by ketxup-kid - Page 5
maybe this is a strange smush of hyperfixation and fandom, but imagine a Sandman/Malevolent AU thing.
Like:
Hob Gadling, PI, (dont know who the dead bff would be), but he has all the dead family members to fill the role.
Dream, Malevolent entity that’s taken over Hob’s eyes.
Or:
Arthur Lester, man so in love with life that he decided he lives forever.
John Doe, supernatural being who represents dreams and such.
Just picture it.
So many parallels.
as a corruption avatar myself im loving the newest season of malevolent
my irl friends are already upset with me for yapping about the new malevolent episode even though im only five mins in
:)))
john didn't know what a wheelchair was bc he was too busy getting his degree in faggot
[Image ID: The Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'There's a petition to ban conversion therapy in the EU' to Cas' 'I love you'. /End ID]
If you are a citizen in the EU please sign this petition:
When things start getting long and confusing in classical or neo-classical theater, often one of the characters goes on a long monologue to sum up the story as a whole so they can then describe their motivations for what they will do within the next scene.
Now I am not sure what this is called, but I do know that this is exactly what Micheal is doing in the beginning of this newer episode.
But I do know that when this happens, some shit is about to go down.
(im like 5 mins into the episode)
guys im on blustertok and, just like everyone else, im wondering, where is he???
where did he go?
did he break his phone? is he gonna get a new one?
is he gonna be alright?
was he kidnapped?
held for ransom?
is he an international superspy that went undercover?
he’s a giant horse, how did we lose him?????
I think this might be my new magnum opus
Mr Spock
i love season 14 w.bg
i knew Nobody was a stinky boy. i knew it in my bones.
oh.
he burnt a house down?
That’s okay.
I agree with the stinky man and his ideas.
uh oh
UH OH
guys it’s woe.begone
@jonmartinweek
Day 9: free day/au
Cowboy au because cowboys are cool
That's it. That's the idea
listen to woe.begone. a normal podcast where normal things happen in a normal fandom
"how did you figure out you were aromantic" the uh. The visions
Happy Fuck You And Fuck Your Train Friday Everybody
REBLOG IF NAZIS OFFEND YOU MORE THAN NIPPLES.
A place for everything, and everything in its place
I hold my grief in my scalp.
I hold it on my ears, the tip of my tongue.
It is not always pain, more an itch.
I scratch
But muscle memory makes me think I itch when I do not.
It is simply the act, the motion of itching, scratching, pinching, scraping.
It is not calming, it is not painful, I do not enjoy or hate it.
Instead I itch.
My sister holds her grief in her hands.
Her elbows, her teeth.
Hers is pain.
She hates her grief and so she holds it with her fists,
tight, but moving and flinching with her elbows.
She wants to bite it, make it painful so the hurt becomes more real.
She wants a reason to hurt.
My mother holds her grief in her feet.
In her words, in her spine.
It is not good to hold grief in the feet and spine, it makes it much harder to walk.
But
Unlike my sister, she lets it go, very easily.
Pushing it away. Giving it up.
But it takes ears to be heard, to get rid of the grief. It takes thick skin, it takes silence.
And so I hold my grief in my heart, to make room for my mother’s.
I think this kind of hilarity stems from a lack of feeling.
tw: descriptions of: blood, wounds, inflicting harm
(all metaphorical)
—————
I want my love to hurt.
I want to dig in with claws and teeth and never let go,
Gouge lines that will pucker and weep their blood and drain you dry,
I want to be remembered as pain when you finally tear my curved claws from your flesh,
I want you to scream with agony
I want to take it all in
I want your wounds to cry for you
I want you to bleed out and die
I want my love to mean something
I have ants all over my room. They always come in more numbers than the day before.
Sometimes I wake up with the ants crawling up my spine.
Sometimes the ants come to take away the bodies of their compatriots.
I respect them for it, I think. I just wish they would find a different battleground.
I am tired of this slaughter, and so i no longer kill the ants. And so they come in larger, greater numbers than before.
I am afraid of them, in a sense.
Not genuinely, more just a semblance of tired annoyance stemming from my mother.
I have mold growing in a teacup by my bed. I have no desire to wash it. No need to.
My mother is frantic now. So desperately tired. She slams her broom onto the ants. Tells me to do the same.
They are just as tired of dying as I am of killing them.
They work and toil to keep the colony alive.
My mother is like an ant in that sense.
And because she is my mother, I am like her, and so I am an ant.
But my mother has a murderous fury. And I have my father's willfull ignorance. I let rot thrive.
Maybe my mother will tire of my ignorance and she will come to kill the ants in my room. Maybe she will rid me of my teacup. Maybe she will kill every last one of the ants. And becasue she is an ant, and because that makes me an ant,
Maybe she will kill me too.
The sun bakes the soil.
These days it’s always that way.
Rain? That’s yesterday.
Ways my sister beats the heat:
Ketxup
It’s hot.
The kind of hot that sinks into your eyelashes, weighing them down with your sweat as you take in too much sun.
The hot days never leave.
Stay inside ‘till the AC makes you chilly.
Or go outside, soak up some sun.
Our AC breaks and we get a fan;
Another to join the summer collection on our bottom shelves.
She always forgets to put on sunscreen and comes back in all red. Dad laughs when she hisses at Mom’s touch. Mom applies the aloe-vera cautiously when she yells.
Watch movies in the basement.
(It’s cooler down there)
She gets upset when we turn the tv off for a break.
Mom has ice water for her when she lounges in the living room.
One time she throws a cube or two at me.
I don’t mind, I duck and dash out.
Mom tells me I’m being a tease, stop annoying her.
I laugh with my brother when we get down the hall.
Eat ice cream in the kitchen,
Or with your friends in the town’s square.
There’s a big statue there, A war memorial. We sit in the shade of surrounding trees.
She pretends the people with her are friends.
I drag her away.
She cries when I say we have to get home. Says Mom can wait a little longer. She pouts after I close the door behind her.
Get in the car, get out of here.
Or stay to wait for a breeze.
The ground is always dry here. It was wet back where we used to be, But it’s soaked in the places we’re going.
Sometimes, the days are quieter;
She’s out of the house, Or she’s in a good mood.
But she never leaves.
Just like the hot days.
—————
“she” refers to my sister in all of the instances it is used
the low quality of this is canon-accurate actually
archivist in the dashcon ball pit
coping mechanisms?
hell no, those space pirates wouldnt know coping if it hit them in the face
"Stop saying 15 year olds with weird interests are cringe, they're 15" this is true however you should also stop saying adults with weird interests are cringe because who gives a shit
You saw the devil frowning, so you handed him your soul, free of charge; anything to get a smile out of him.
Maybe if you give him everything, you’ll get to smile too.
soooooo............where does daisy go
hi mechs fans long time no see
Reblog if you’d attend!!