Stranger Things
we're not kids anymore.
Jules of Nature
taylor price
trying on a metaphor
Cosmic Funnies
Cosimo Galluzzi
Monterey Bay Aquarium
tannertan36
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
cherry valley forever
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
wallacepolsom
roma★
Kiana Khansmith
Not today Justin
No title available
Sweet Seals For You, Always
🪼
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@getsusun
Hello there!
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For (mostly) future me:
#drawing_getsu - Mostly Bleach fanart. And when speaking Bleach I usually mean Zangetsu/Noba. :D
#writing_getsu - Everything with text. Some headcanons, fanfics pieces, etc.
#rambling_getsu - Just some thoughts.
@zangetsu-art is for uninterrupted stream of Zangetsu art
@element-of-alchemy - rmt
some friendship dynamics i doodled that i love a lot because im a certified FRIENDSHIP LOVER from the board of FRIENDIRECTORS on planet PLATONIC
Bats are cute. Ergo, Thuringwethil is cute. Her hobbies include hanging out upside down and scaring the shit out of people (accidentally or on purpose)
Shenanigans ensue
in the past i've described my experience of being an ace with a sex drive as being hungry with no appetite, but actually my experience is more like being hungry and never going out to eat because i always have all the tools and ingredients to make exactly what i want, exactly how i want it, at home. i don't want other people in my kitchen and i certainly don't want to be in anyone else's kitchen. love reading about fictional kitchens, though.
The other night husband and I were watching a documentary about the yeti where they were doing DNA analysis of samples of supposed yeti fur, and every one of them came back as bears.
Anyway, the next night we watched a thing about some pig man who is supposed to live in Vermont. People said it had claws and a pig nose but walked upright like a man. Now, I happen to know that sideshows used to shave bears and present them as pig men. So every piece of evidence they gave of this monster sounds to me like a bear with mange.
So now the running joke in our house is that everything is bears. Aliens? Bears. Loch Ness monster? Bear. Every cryptozoological mystery is just a very crafty bear.
Bears. They’re everywhere. Be wary. Anyone or anything could be a bear.
oh shit
As the OP of this post, I’m going to threaten that if this gets to one million notes by the 10 year anniversary on 1 June 2026, one year from today, I will get a lower back tattoo of the loch ness bear monster.
At time of posting, this is at 711.6k notes
29 Days Remain
Read from right to left*
Gilga is chronically actively suicidal and has tried way more than 25 times in my hc
⸻
The night was quiet.
So quiet that even the wind sounded like sand scraping against the eardrum.
They were both on the balcony.
Nodt sat on the ground, hands gripping the railing, legs dangling outside, swaying in the air.
Gilga leaned against the railing, an unlit cigarette between his lips, eyes drifting toward the sliver of new moon in the sky.
There were no signals of collapse in the air. No processed emotions. Only one of them suddenly spoke—voice even, like cold metal dropped into a tank of water.
“I won't say that I'm alive... I'm just not dead yet.”
He said it without emphasis, without tremor, without pause. As natural as stating the temperature. As if it had been chewed a thousand times inside him before he let it out.
Nodt didn’t move. He wasn’t surprised.
He just turned his head slightly, glanced at Gilga, then slowly let his gaze drift forward again.
The air seemed to sink a little.
He didn’t reply right away. Even he was silent for longer than usual, as if the words hadn’t been said to him, but simply thrown into the balcony space to see who’d be the first to pick them up.
The silence held for five, six seconds.
Long enough to feel like a short dream.
Then he spoke. Voice soft, emotionless, even slightly water-soaked and hoarse:
“Death......really isn’t an easy thing.”
A second passed. He added, as if finishing the sentence:
“...Especially when people are looking for it.”
It wasn’t philosophy.
It wasn’t a lofty pose.
It wasn’t a gentle “don’t be like this.”
It was like a sheet of glass pressed in front of Gilga’s eyes—
not an answer, but a temperature to perceive.
Gilga didn’t say anything. He just kept the cigarette in his mouth, eyes dropping to Nodt’s knuckles wrapped around the bars.
Then his mouth twitched—almost a smile, almost too tired to keep talking.
The light was still on, but no one had touched it in a long time.
Only the two of them were left in the air—
one standing, a cigarette hanging from his mouth;
the other sitting between the rails, hair damp, shoulders slack.
Gilga stared at him.
His brow raised slightly—not in amusement this time,
but like he had just caught something—
A way of speaking too calm, too familiar.
Not someone quoting a story.
Someone who’d been there.
He didn’t think too much—
the words came out on their own.
“Then...what about you?”
Not concern.
Not closeness.
Just a beat-late recognition:
You weren’t talking about someone else.
You’ve walked that line too.
Nodt didn’t look up right away.
He was quiet for two seconds,
as if confirming: so we’re really going there, huh.
Then he lowered his head, as if sinking back to a dream—eyes falling to the void and height under his dangling feet.
His voice was low.
So low it didn’t even sound meant for Gilga.
More like he was speaking to the versions of himself that hadn’t died.
“I've...been on that edge for too long.”
In that moment, he wasn’t Nodt.
Not the one who puked on you, licked your mouth,
not the one whose need for control bit through everything.
He was someone who had once been trapped—
by a hospital bed, by convulsions, by bitten lips and a throat that wouldn’t open.
His head bowed, fingers pressed to the railing,
like feeling for the bars of a cell he never escaped.
Then he said one more thing,
“Human body......truly is amazing.”
Not praise.
Not awe.
Just a joke told by someone too tired to laugh—
The kind of joke you make when you’ve tried to die
and your body just keeps refusing.
Gilga stared at him.
At that lowered head.
At the way his neck looked like a taut string about to snap.
The light hit Nodt’s shoulder,
and it looked like he was still folding inward—
like someone who’d “walked too long” hadn’t quite made it back.
Gilga’s breath came a little uneven.
He didn’t cough, didn’t sigh, didn’t curse.
He just said, low and hoarse,
“......Tell me about it.”
You don't say.
Like stepping onto the same soil where he once buried something. And now someone else stood there, too.
Something so funny about rereading one's own unfinished fics. Like wow this is pretty good! Almost as if was written exactly according to what I personally like in fact! Someone should finish it!
Sector 13: Iscariot
Some of you may already know the answer to this!
The throwing axe at the end is this thing, btw- you can get a discount with DAB-RAVEN if you like chucking things at stuff!
A mini PHM comic about Grace growing old. I wanted to explore two ideas: Rocky dealing with Grace’s dementia and Grace wanting to donate his body to science. I spend so much time on figuring out the dialogue (some part still feel clunky to me) but I hope it express my thoughts on where I think Grace’s life would go :)
Title is based on a song by M83
Lab Etiquettes with Dr. Grace and Rocky
all all all
Vladcard and Angel Dust Anderson... I think their interactions would be amusing.
Stylized Alucards
Little Vlad walk warmup
You work in a factory that builds intelligent war machines, built and forced to fight in a constant war. Out of either sympathy or habit, you head-pat every machine after every inspection. A seemingly harmless gesture… until men in suits pulled you from work and interrogated you about it.
“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that, please? I must have misheard you.” I was raised to be polite, and I’m not about to stop now (there are so many guns in this room) so I resist adding “because that is the fucking stupidest thing I have ever heard” to the end of the sentence. I may as well have spared myself the trouble. The cold face of the high-ranking military man on the other side of the table only gets, if this is possible, colder. His lips are pressed flat, and I think there might be some sort of undiagnosed blood pressure problem, because he’s turning a very unnatural purple. “Every. Goddamn. One. Of the units that have come through your maintenance line in the last six months are now showing signs of instability. If you can’t identify the problem for me in the next five minutes, you and everyone you know are going to spend the rest of your lives in high-security prison.”
I might be turning a funny color now myself.
The Asexual Representation of Hellsing:
I think these are the main three... Anderson and the Major's sexuality are primarily explored in their prototype work, though it still bleeds into their Hellsing characterization. (If I'm forgetting details on anyone please put it in the comments!)
