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IM NOT DEAD I LOVE YOU ALL IM JUST BVUSY <333333333333 HAPPY HOLIDAYS <33333 HGUS AND KISS

#blnkupdates

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Miles and Deku would be best friends! I know it!!

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Imagine a bee rn in a hive muttering "the beekeeper is not real because he is not intervening or helping me at all with this disastrous relationship I have with another bee". now imagine that's you talking about the good lord. now imagine a dog with a propeller hat on

#reblogs

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Leonid Pasternak  (Ukrainian, 1862–1945) - The Torments of Creative Work

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shared dreams

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Wanted to try drawing Captain McTavish for the first time! Gotta learn how to stay focused on those training hikes, yeah?

#reblogs

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i love you. you made a mistake? i dont care i love you. you made a wrong choice? love you. you don’t think you’re good for anything? guess what you’re good for loving i love you

#reblogs

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Thats what you GET bro

#reblogs

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one piece got me doing fucked up and evil shit like truly seeing the value of laughter and joy again

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less than a month to go boys

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One thing I really love about seedy anime websites and YouTube mp3 converters is like. They actually do what they say they’re doing. But they WILL try to trick you into downloading a virus. Like it’s almost just a greeting at this point. I try to extract a song from a YouTube video and it says free VPN installer tonight perhaps? Free VPN installer tonight queen? And I say YouTube-mp3 converter you sly dog, you know what I’m here for. Show me the goods. And YouTube-mp3 converter says ahhh you got me, no getting one over on you. Thought it was worth a try tho. Here you go king x

#reblogs

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when I was around twelve I used to sit at the family computer and send hatemail to a white french dude named Jacques who was a self proclaimed communist on Tumblr. This was back in the day when you didn't need a blog to send anon hate. I had no real beef with him but I just didn't like his tone. used to send him "SHUT UP Jacques" periodically. and he'd answer every single one of my asks like "who is this?? show your face or I'll fucking kill you" and I'd be like "now now, that doesn't make sense, jacques" all haughty and he'd get so fucking mad at me. One time he posted a selfie and I sent him an ask claiming I was a psychologist and that his hair parting suggested that he wasn't a communist at all. and he took it deliriously serious and went off on a 2,000 word rant. I can remember going to stay at my grandparents over that weekend, so I didn't even respond to the rant until I came back. I could've chosen to end it there, but when I returned, I sent him another ask which was like "psychologist here again: if you were a communist your hair parting would be in the middle. evenly distributed. All behavioural signs point to someone who doesn't take their own values seriously." and he went ballistic. really swearing at me. all caps type beat. he never turned the asks off, btw. which always made me wonder if he didn't know how to, or if he didn't want to cause he was convinced he was fighting a war, and this action would ensure he lost it. anyway this went on for weeks until one day I completely forgot about him like he was some kind of childhood imaginary friend I'd conjured up in my loneliness. but yesterday I happened to recall the whole scenario, because my buddy was like "remember when you were twelve and I came over to your house, and you showed me on the computer how you'd been terrorizing this random French guy for days on end. And you were laughing like fucking crazy. and I said it wasn't funny because he probably had problems, and you were like 'oh.' and you looked a bit guilty for a second, but then you went and got a grapefruit from the kitchen and threw it out of the second story window at my kid brother, who was playing in the street, and then you started laughing again?" Well. when she put it like that, needless to say I felt bad. so Jacques if you're out there I'm sorry I was such a little shit. you had totally normal hair, and you only wanted people to share stuff. If it's any consolation I know every day of my life that I'm probably going to hell for the sick things I have done

#reblogs

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stop unfollowing me im pregnant and it’s yours

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Fall and Rise of the Reaper

(/death mentions, injury mentions, piss-poor parenting, PTSD flashbacks, murderous intentions)

Jell-O's and pudding cups turned to soup, soup turned to stew, and stew turned to whole meals; Gatorade and Pedialyte switched to water and tea, then coffee and juice; months in bed crawled into weeks, then days, then hours, then only for sleep. You healed physically throughout each day but were without mental vitality. Any semblance of the person before the fall was gone; you were just a shell going through the motions of every therapy session.

Day in, day out; therapy, eat, sleep, repeat. Mom didn't visit for a while, she didn't believe it, not for a bit, at least. When she did visit, however, the room was understandably silent. Mourning her husband beside her nearly-vegetable of a kid was rough.

It had been nearly eleven months post-fall that you actually got to the cemetery to see him yourself, each breath more labored than the last while the grass, crusted in frost and icy slush, crunched under your feet. You'd had to endure the other funerals for the 831, visit Rigo, and deal with the legal repercussions of being legally missing, then dead, for apparently a day. The timing didn't line up, you'd thought as you scribbled your signature across the seemingly endless stack of papers. That didn't matter, though, and you knew that. All sensibility and understanding of the world had flown out the window with Navarro and Okazaki that day.

Canvas shoes stopped before the freshly chiseled granite slab that read out that familiar name of your father. The tombstone looked at you, and you looked back. Neither one of you moved. The crows didn't squawk either, they just watched, as did the rest of the fauna surrounding the graveyard. Shockingly enough, you almost wanted the corvids to cut in, to yell and shriek at the human stepping into their territory; but they didn't. They just watched, as most birds do.

Words weren't spoken, merely thought, as you stared down at the ground as the gears in your head click, click, clicked. Rigo was returning to the military, he'd said that weeks ago. Click, click, click. Not because he wanted to, but because he felt like he had to. You supposed he'd be sticking with that as his post-fall career. Click, click, click. The legality of your actions with Owens was still in play, but they said they'd let you go if you went to outpatient, huh? Click, click, click. The turning of gears faded into whipping helo blades, and you stopped breathing for a moment, no air puffing from your warm lungs into the crisp air. Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. What did you do after the outpatient requirement finished? Did you... go look for another job? Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. Could you even work anything remotely minimum wage with the scars on your face? They hadn't even healed yet, not fully anyway. Would anyone even consider you for an interview? Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. Did you really have a choice to go... anywhere?

Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. Navarro was ripped out of the safety of the metal bird. Okazaki was next to go. Achebe was long dead before she even saw her sergeants fling out to their deaths. Johnny was missing. Rigo was going through the motions. Marisha was enduring the guilt of almost being the only survivor. You were a walking corpse. Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. What about Phil?

Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. Someone screamed.

What about Graves?

Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. Something red and wet slapped onto your skin.

Why wasn't he...

Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. Your stomach flew up into your lungs as you were thrown around, glancing at Rigo. He was scared.

Why wasn't he hurting?

Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. You were scared.

Why wasn't he in the helo?

Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. Death considered both of you for those moments.

Why wasn't Graves dead too?

Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. Vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. But Death did not have either of you on her list.

Your ears had been ringing, an inaudible siren to the corvids that watched on as your hands flexed and relaxed. The thoughts trickled easily together, molding like water molecules that clung and enlarged each other. Why wasn't Graves dead? Out of all of the 831, he came out unscathed, smiling, happy, that things went the way they did.

Caw!

Jumping in place, head snapping to the crow, it stood on a distant headstone, watching you with its beady black eyes. To him, you were a human standing near a rock, unmoving for minutes. To you, the corvid was a sign, an encouragement. Finish the job.

Beginning your trek through the graves, over the dirt, and past the gates, you yanked your phone out of your jacket pocket and pulled up Marisha's contact, finger practically breaking your screen with how hard you pressed the "call" button.

Ring, ring.

...

Ring, ring.

...

"-- Hello?"

Her voice was tired. She must be after all of the dead-teammate paperwork she had gone through up to that point. "Call a plane to Cincinnati," you replied, frame turned back to watch the crow from before. He had moved from the previous headstone to your fathers, still watching you. A beat passed, why did you stop? Was it hesitation? The corvid cawed and your thoughts came to fruition. No, it wasn't hesitation, but instead, a wait for confirmation. "I'm reenlisting."

RWYS is back in production! I will be taking on classes next semester, and am working over the break, but RWYS is now officially off the backburner. Thank you all for your patience, continued support, and love.

(Take this as an early holiday gift)

#rwys updates #rwys reaper #blnkupdates #blnkdates