Keni
Phantogram Three
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Mike Driver
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
One Nice Bug Per Day
EXPECTATIONS
pixel skylines
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RMH
occasionally subtle
Sade Olutola
untitled
PR's Tumblrdome
Color Me Curious
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Discoholic 🪩
Cosmic Funnies
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YOU ARE THE REASON
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
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seen from Maldives
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@gcthbytch-blog
’ give us your weary and we shall bring them to anew. starve your gods and leave your temples in ruin. we are everywhere and eternal. we gnaw on the bones of your beliefs. and bathe in your ashes. we are death. and mortem non discern. ’
Private multimuse. Nsfw topics present. Written by: Lake
———— YOU! Yes, you! Are you fond of soft boys that treat plants with respect and are kind to everyone? Do you like boys made of sunshine and bravery and genuine HEART? Are you dying to meet a boy who grows into a great and warm hearted man despite the pain life has given him?! THEN DO I HAVE A BOY FOR YOU! Almost chosen, almost died, but still got a happy ending! Neville Longbottom your local soft souled boy who yearns for nothing more than true friendship and consuming love, the boy who told ‘ you know who ‘ off and lived! The boy who would die for your future and everyone else’s so selflessly! That’s right Neville Longbottom is your boy! Just give this post a LIKE or REBLOG to show him you too care about plants rights and astrology! Given life by L!
If you use the tags alot
myhartisonfriar:
See what pops up first with these words:
Ass, shit, bitch, fuck, damn
*puts my hand on your shoulder* listen. I DID mean to make you upset and i DO think your opinions are shit
広瀬 すず Suzu HIROSE
DOWNTOWN TOKYO, its a hive. Buzzing with so much life you’d assume hornets had taken resident in every corner and slight hollow. Its comforting -- the noise that is. The ever steady reminder that there is life and commotion and activity right outside your window, its a reminder that only in death is there utter silence. A deafening and gut blowing silence that creeps into the lungs and spreads out like an infection or mold, coating each crease and not releasing its victim for anything. I’ve met this silence numerous times, in the early morning when i wake and i am flushed with ice, late in the evening when the world is at its fastest and slowest, and at midnight when the world freezes for a second and only resumes for another day. These are the moments when I am allowed in, thrust past the curtain that hangs between these worlds. I know I’m not the only one who can see this world, but I’ve never met another like me. Yet. My grandmother is the closest to my kind I’ve ever come, and even then she is but a keeper -- a protector if you will. If you would have told me three years ago my grandmother would become my protector and demolish demon ass, I would’ve laughed in your face and asked what type of drug you’ve snagged off the streets. But now -- now I cant say thank you enough to the five foot even woman whose stared a demon in the face and told it no, now I know my grandmother who wears fine silks and styles her hair exactly is a badass with no patience. I know where my mom gets it from now.
Three years ago my life was different, and not in the cliche different either where everything was perfect and my world got flipped upside down. I mean three years ago I was living with my parents in Amity Park, Pennsylvania in the U.S. I was a senior in high school, I had decent grades, two friends, and a healthy appetite of apathy that helped me escape the bullshit peer-pressure girls suffer at that age. Then my best friend went missing. He up and vanished, kind of like vapor -- he didn't exist anywhere. At least that’s what everyone kept saying, as far as people were concerned i’d conceived him up to be a dream. An imaginary friend that never existed, hell even his own family denied his existence. Everyone thought I was crazy or hallucinating and so many even went as far enough to speculate i was on hardcore drugs and deem me nothing more than a burn out heading for the corner gas station. The only person who believed me was my other best friend, the other corner to our triangle. The third musketeer in this team, he was the only who didn't doubt me. Who had some vague but solid memories of our old friend, he was the only one I could trust and count on to reassure me I wasn't insane -- and then he had to leave me also. His wasn't a vanishing act or a random puff of smoke and leaving in a magicians fashion, his was a death. A solid casket that was carried out the summer of his freshman year in college, a hard oak wood casket that his mother flung herself on top of and sobbed recklessly. Many people wondered how he’d died, but within his final weeks something didn't add up to me -- not one bit. He’d said he’d gotten a possible lead on where our friend had vanished, had snagged a true hard wire that we could trace back to the wall and outlet. But five days after he’d told me this enthusiasm riding his tired features -- he was gone. Fallen from the sixth story of his apartment building, ruled as a suicide, but what the coroners didn't note was the bruises on his neck. The claw marks and nail indention’s on his forearms, no they left that out of the report when cleaning up the body.
nbsp; And now you’re wondering how I know what his body looked like after he fell, I’ll tell you. He came to me, a vague wisp of air that floated like vapor around me. I almost had a heart attack, the final scene of a lilac coffin being escorted down the synagogue aisle shocked me back into life once I’d recognized the face staring back into my own. He looked horrible, eyes of fish white -- neck bruised and twisted odd exactly the way he fell and he resembled something of a broken doll limbs angled and hanging and swaying with each movement he made. He’d explained what happened, but he couldn't remember the face of his murderer -- could give exact details or true answers just soft nods and abrupt glares that sent ice down my spine. After seeing him that night, they all started coming. One by one, two by twos, and soon hoards that would invade my conscious and fill my mind with an endless chatter of differing volumes and voices -- I contemplated gouging my ear drums, but I knew it would do nothing to stop them. They weren't really speaking, not with their mouths at least -- but they were in my head. Always, every hour of everyday nonstop -- that was until I learned to control it. My control didn't come in until I left Amity Park, when I kissed my dreary city life goodbye and didn't look back. My parents weren't enthused about my leaving, but they made no effort to stop me. In those few months they’d noticed my change, my hostility that exuded more than usually. How I jumped at every sound and how I would ramble nonstop to myself trying to answer the voices in my head, they sent me to a shrink. A stuffy bald man who claimed I was suffering from anxiety and depression after the loss of my friend, and not to mention the loss of my friend everyone doubted existed. He said time away from Amity would do me good, he said a different scenery altogether might help.
There wasn't much question after that, my bags were packed for me. Posters folded up and anything else they couldn't ship with me was thrown into the family’s attic and put on lock and key, and I was sent away. Across the world, to a knew country, a knew city, and a new home. My grandmother was kind enough, didn't speak too much at first -- gave me my space. I hid myself away from some time after that, ignored the world outside and sooner or later the voices became quieter. The souls that lurked outside my window faded and I could finally hear my own thoughts without the following narratives of another’s, my grandmother was patient with me. Never pressed my silence, never dragged out of me the truth until one day a soul sat beside us at dinner. The soft silence and faint radio in the background drowning out its quiet voice that slipped into my ears, my hands trembled as I ate my rice trying to ignore it and force it away. Maybe it was my trembling that made her act, maybe it was pure annoyance that our dinner had been disturbed -- but she acted alright. Familiar warm black brown eyes illuminated with a golden amber color as she looked up at the soul and merely spoke in a calm voice, “ leave. “ it was then my fear of my grandmother shifted from fear of judgement, to fear of exactly what power she held in her grasp. The soul dissolved without hesitation, the room filled with warmth and she resumed eating as if nothing had just taken place. I like to think that was the true moment my grandmother and I fully understood each other and started out friendship, I think she believes that as well.
In the few years I’ve been by my grandmother’s side I’ve become stronger, more confident -- I’ve let my past go....or at least I thought I had. I’d put my theories behind me, forgotten old wounds and let them scab over, I called my parents seldom, and made sure to never mention Amity Park ever again. But alas whats been buried deep down, shall rise to the surface sooner or later. His name appeared on the fogged glass of my bathroom window, scrawled in condensation and dripping like blood. Danny. I’d forgotten him almost, lost him and too believed he never existed -- but someone or something wasn't letting me go that easy. Despite my best efforts and attempts to run away, it’s tracked me down and demanded I play the game it wants. This invisible soul, this vanished boy, he wants me to find him. Wants me to play his game, and despite my best efforts I’ve already begun. I’ve got to find Danny.
Where did you go Danny? And why did Tucker have to die? Why am I seeing ghost? And why is it every step I take forward and get closer to finding you -- you take five steps back and say “ try harder. “ ?
** is it taking me forever to update sam's blog? you bet your last dime on your ass it is.
Have you ever platonically fallen for someone? For the things they say and how they can always cheer you up, no matter the circumstances? For how you can count on them and the way they get so enthusiastic about the things they love? Have you ever watched someone without them noticing and just felt your heart burst of love for everything they do and everything they are, feeling incredibly proud to have them as a friend? Have you ever been in awe due to the feeling of being blessed by the sheer existence of another human being?
// friendship j.d.m. (via poetryandthesea) @gcthbytch (via naesarang)
Nanase Nishino - nonno
Quietly moves to lay her head against the woman's lap while stretching out to get her attention away from stressful thoughts. "You know something? You are ethereal and beyond the mere description of words in how much I love you."
she’s gentle. porcelain fingertips that caress fang’s crown are without hesitation, as full lips draw upward into a shy smile. bold in nature, it takes someone of real heart to reduce her to such timidness. but raven lashes brush along her smooth cheeks as they are flushed to a floral pink, a breathless and humor filled laugh falls from her lungs easily as she cants her head. gaze warm as she arches a plucked brow with ease, the playful demeanor shunning her meekness. “ then you must be greater than any world and universe combined. because no mere word can encompass how much you mean to me. “
42 character development questions!
PHYSICAL PRESENCE AND GESTURE. 1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy? 2. How much physical space do they use, active and at rest? 3. How do they position themselves in a group? Do they like to be the center of attention, or do they hang back at the edges of a crowd? 4. What is their size and build? How does it influence how they use their body, if it does? 5. How do they dress? What styles, colors, accessories, and other possessions do they favor? Why? 6. What are they like in motion–in different environments, and in different activities? What causes the differences between these? 7. How do they physically engage with other people, inanimate objects, and their environment? What causes the differences between these? 8. Where and when do they seem most and least at ease? Why? How can you tell? 9. How do they manifest energy, exhaustion, tension, or other strong emotions? 10. What energizes and drains them most? 11. How are they vocally expressive? What kind of voice, accent, tones, inflections, volume, phrases and slang, and manner of speaking do they use? 12. How are they bodily expressive? How do they use nonverbal cues such as their posture, stance, eyes, eyebrows, mouths, and hands? DISPOSITION AND TEMPERAMENT. 13. How do they greet the world — what is their typical attitude towards life? How does it differ in different circumstances, or towards different subjects? Why do they take these attitudes, and why do they change? How do these tend to be expressed? 14. What do they care deeply about? What kind of loyalties, commitments, moral codes, life philosophies, passions, callings, or spirituality and faith do they have? How do these tend to be expressed? 15. What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical? Full of doubts and fears? Does it find any sort of outlet in their lives? 16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like? 17. Are they more shaped by nature or nurture — who they are, or what has happened to them? How have these shaped who they’ve become as a person? 18. What kind of person could they become in the future? What are some developmental paths that they could take, (best, worst, most likely?) what would cause them to come to pass, and what consequences might they have? What paths would you especially like to see, and why? CONNECTIONS WITH OTHERS. 19. How do they behave within a group? What role(s) do they take? Does this differ if they know and trust the group, versus finding themselves in a group of strangers? Why? 20. What kind of individual relationships do they have with others, and how do they behave in them? How are they different between intimate relationships like friends, family, and lovers versus more impersonal relationships? 21. What kind of relationships do they tend to intentionally seek out versus actually cultivate? What kind of social contact do they prefer, and why? 22. How do people respond to them, and why might these responses differ? 23. How do they respond to difficult social moments? What makes them consider a social situation difficult? 24. How do they present themselves socially? What distinguishes their “persona” from their “true self”, and what causes that difference? 25. What do they need and want out of relationships, and how do they go about getting it? 26. How do they view and feel about relationships, and how might this manifest in how they handle them, if it does? ACTIVITIES AND PREFERENCES. 27. What do they strongly like and dislike, in any category? Why? 28. What are they likely to do if they have the opportunity, resources, and time to accomplish it? Why? 29. What kind of activities, interests, and hobbies do they have? What significance and impact do these have in their lives, both positive and negative? 30. What is their preferred level of activity and stimulation? How do they cope if they get either too little or too much? 31. Is there anything that counts as a “dealbreaker” for them, positively or negatively? What makes things go smoothly, and what spoils an activity or ruins their day? Why? 32. Do they have any “props” that are a significant part of their life, identity, activities, or self-presentation somehow? What are they, how are they used, and why are they so significant? How would these props’ absence impact them, how would they compensate, and why? THINKING AND LEARNING. 33. How do they learn about the world–what is their preferred learning style? Hands-on learning with trial and error? Research, reading, and note-taking? Observation or rote memorization? Inductive or deductive reasoning? Seeking patterns and organization? Taking things apart and putting them back together? Creative processing via discussing, writing about, or dramatizing things? 34. How do they understand the world–what kind of worldview and thought processes do they have? Why? 35. How and why do they internalize knowledge? What effect has that had on them? 36. How much do they rely on their minds and intellect, versus other approaches like relying on instinct, intuition, faith and spirituality, or emotions? What is their opinion on this? 37. Have they had any special education or training that colors their means of learning about or understanding the world? Conversely, do they lack some kind of education considered essential in their world? What kind of impact has this addition or lack had on them? 38. Is there anything they wish they could change about their worldview or thought processes? What, and why? 39. What sort of questions or thoughts recur in their lives, either specifically or as a theme? Why are these never answered, or answered permanently to their satisfaction? 40. What do they wonder about? What sparks their curiosity and imagination, and why? How is this expressed, if it is? FREE FOR ALL. 41. What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why? 42. I have a question of my own!
*** me to myself: make a pokemon verse for sam. me to me: bitch are you crazy we havent even done anything in most of her verses? why would we need that one. me to myself: cause. pokemon bitch. let her raise those ghostie babies.
@dangeress ur cute <3
