Nickname Cheat Sheet

Yessssss I love him, look at this beautiful art, at this beautiful manz Look at him

Inventory check: Seth

This is just a small glimpse at some of the things he carries around. He has a secondary bag for other items. (And i got too lazy to draw anything else lol)

Just an amazing comic my an amazing artist 

i can’t stop thinking about @ehlihr‘s teacher!jon au i couldnt NOT draw something for it

All these decades of riots, the death of so many queer people for a future that was more accepting; yet here we are, still trying to have people realize that just because someone is different than them does not mean they are dirty. This is ridiculous and sad that people are so bored with their own lives they have to bother other people.

TERFs have begun using “hygienic” to mean cis because they’re fucking weirdos who think trans people don’t take baths

I’ve been collecting these screenshots for months to prove my point, this is an actual thing they’re doing and I feel that by now I have enough proof to be making this post. If you see someone calling themselves hygienic in their blog description, that’s what they mean. They mean they’re openly transphobic. And a fucking weirdo who assumes trans people don’t bathe for some reason.

No I’m not censoring the urls, all of these people can go fuck themselves! Block, don’t harass 💙🖤

Night before christmas - twisted tale

Twas the night before christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were ripping and tied to a chair, Sat poor St. Nicholas, who had abbandoned his cheer.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her 'kerchief and pa in his cap, had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

But out in the sitting room was the eldest son, despaired, he stood before St. Nick with a long, cold stare.

"You have made up a holiday and stolen into my home" "And now you must face the wrath of Steve, Bobby and I, Gerome" With that out sprang two other young people Glaring at St.Nicholas with looks that spelled "evil"

"You dress up in red and bring toys for children" "Yet we know not who you are, or where you have been." "So there shall be no milk and cookies tonight for you, villain." And thus St.Nick regretted his decission; of breaking into this house on the night before Christmas.

Candle or flame?

Shall I sit calmly and read in the candlelight, or shall I commit arson instead? No one shall ever know, for I shall never be caught.

Photo from pinterest.

Dark academia ambience playlist for melancholic writers...

Today's ambience video is a dark academia playlist to study to. It includes pieces from some of my favourite composers including Bach, Beethoven, Debussy and...

Another playlist for all those searching for some calm music, or something aesthetic to chill, read, write, paint, or be amazing to.

Nosebleeds

I’ve decided I shall give people nose bleeds- whether with my fists or my looks. Or both. Depends on the person.

May you burn with the monster that plagues your soul; may you lay in the ashes of your very sins and damnation. May the devil do with you as he sees fit and throw you deep into the pits of the eternal hellfire, and may you reap what you have sown.

Cole, Tacita Corvus (my book)

Start of chapter two, Sins of the flesh.

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1233104183-sins-of-the-flesh-chapter-2-newcomer Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/98769999#workskin --- Dean gasped awake, chest heaving as he drew in panicked breaths and gripped at the bedsheets, the adrenaline in his veins and anxiety slowly fading the longer he breathed in sweet, sweet oxygen.

The nightmares were horrible, always of the same grotesque beings, the demons, werewolves, wraiths and other monstrosities his father would fight off when he was a child.

The images and fights Dean himself had fought against them were always present in the back of his mind during his waking life, reminding him that he was living on borrowed time and that nothing was ever permanent; these thoughts only became more prominent when he was asleep as he did not have much control over what his own mind created. “Sonova bitch…” Dean muttered, letting out a relieved breath, relieved to have finally escaped the dream; he had been allowed to remove his blindfold when fighting these beings to ensure that he wouldn’t get too injured, but some days he wished he hadn’t seen anything.

Dean reached over to his bedside table for his braille watch, the cool metal and leather strap coming into contact with Dean’s hand as he did so. He had, of course, learnt to read braille at a young age simply to make his life easier due to the blindfold, and as a result, his father had bought him the watch on his thirteenth birthday, but Dean somewhat believed he only did that so he would stop asking what time it was every half hour.

To his dismay, it was only around three am, which aggravated Dean to no end; it was a Saturday, so he didn’t have to be up early and he had only gone to sleep three hours ago. Thoroughly disgruntled, Dean placed his watch back on his side table and yanked the sheets back up to his chin, rolling onto his side in an attempt to get comfortable. Despite his greatest efforts, the dream had shaken him too much for him to feel even a pang of sleepiness.

After nearly an hour of tossing and turning, Dean kicked his sheets off in frustration, slipped out of his bed and located his fluffy robe, tying the string around his abdomen as he walked. The house was mostly silent, nothing but the sound of the wind howling outside and the near-silent creaking of the old home; an eerie feeling hung in the air, the feeling of being careful watches unnerving Dean to the core, though he tried to ignore it as he made his way through the house.

The man allowed himself to simply wander through the house, not bothering much to do anything but trace his fingers over the walls and the picture frames hung up them; he had never seen what was in the picture frames, but he hoped one day he might. He remembered his father often having him and Sammy pose and stand for pictures, but Dean had never seen a single one of them; he wondered if somewhere in the house, there might be a photo of his mother... Continued on Wattpad and Ao3!

My writing process

1. Make myself some coffee 2. Sit down at my desk to write 3. Look for music 4. Make a new playlist 5. Make a pinterest board for that playlist 6. Oh look it’s 3 am and my coffee’s cold. 7. Cry about not being productive 8. Repeat. :)