That’s the problem with Graves. He never knows when to let go. He says things that stick under your skin and rot there quietly until you can’t tell if it’s guilt or affection that’s eating you alive.
will byers stan first human second

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One Nice Bug Per Day

Andulka
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if i look back, i am lost
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@heartdontshine
That’s the problem with Graves. He never knows when to let go. He says things that stick under your skin and rot there quietly until you can’t tell if it’s guilt or affection that’s eating you alive.
Sometime when my cat isn’t looking I’ll speed my way up the stairs on all fours so I can scare him
Why is trust so difficult? You trust your mother and father when you’re born. Why do you trust them? Why don’t you trust me?
Well, he died. You don’t get any older than that.
the blood is slick against your temple and you're drooling through your teeth. rust. bullet. safe. lover. click,
A while ago I tried to export the cell posters, but ran into a issue, but now I fixed it I think
Tried my best so here is a reupload
and here the two wallpapers I like the most
Link to the masterpost:
💬 3 🔁 6 ❤️ 36 · Post by @muffy-official · 24 images · The Outlast Trials Posters and Miscellaneous masterpost I'll just slap links here t
BakaArts
@TheBakaArts
blood in resin
Morale was deteriorating and it was all Yossarian's fault. The country was in peril; he was jeopardizing his traditional rights of freedom and independence by daring to exercise them.
“You have deep-seated survival anxieties. And you don't like bigots, bullies, snobs or hypocrites. Subconsciously there are many people you hate."
"Consciously, sir, consciously," Yossarian corrected in an effort to help. "I hate them consciously.”
When I look up, I see people cashing in. I don't see heaven or saints or angels. I see people cashing in on every decent impulse and every human tragedy.
They're trying to kill me," Yossarian told him calmly.
No one's trying to kill you," Clevinger cried.
Then why are they shooting at me?" Yossarian asked.
They're shooting at everyone," Clevinger answered. "They're trying to kill everyone."
And what difference does that make?
Why would you want to leave me? Would you get up halfway through surgery, unstitched, loose organs leaking like whipped toddlers, and abandon your surgeon? You would die screaming, and its all you would deserve. Can't you see I love you?
Sometimes I wonder if there's a special place in hell reserved for men like me, men who are supposed to protect and serve but end up being nothin' more than monsters in uniform.