Tumgik
#shout out to you for this banger
solarockk · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Did this before the serie came out and I'm glad It wasnt too far off lmao
14K notes · View notes
manonspook · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
have you ever seen a man so beautiful you started crying
cuz that’s me rn
(enjoy <3)
54 notes · View notes
goat-van · 10 months
Text
I read this really cool fic named “from now until the end” by gin (tabanthas) on ao3 and I loved it so much I wanted to draw something for it :) 
(here’s the fic link btw, it’s very good just make sure you mind the tags cuz it’s angsty)
also TW for some blood and violence in my drawing, it’s not too gory but like ye.
Tumblr media
(also no bg ver)
Tumblr media
135 notes · View notes
diorysuss · 8 months
Text
i believe in “Khan Doorman with a 4C afro” supremacy
34 notes · View notes
icyblueroses · 11 days
Text
There's this thing that I like to call the Sleep Token Effect, which is where I listen to one of their songs for the first time, think
"Damn, that was a good song! Can't wait to be normal about it!"
and then have it on repeat in my head for the next week
8 notes · View notes
wornout-pinkscarf · 3 months
Note
Thoughts on the new life of luxury episode?
Many laugh-out-loud moments, definitely a classic LoL video. The monster freaked me out but he was also goofy which is quintessential for a good episode👌
A bit of Parker lore with the “I know how to deal with this trauma” moment? Hmmm something to think about I suppose… and then of course the twin-sized bed which I’m 99% certain they changed to a bigger one once they got in (which yeah two grown men couldn’t fit in that damn thing 😭). Oh Chester 💖 what a guy
Highly recommend 10/10
8 notes · View notes
moth-tv420 · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
i wanted to ply around with colors i don’t usually use so here is this screenshot redraw of gravity falls
i sort of gave up on ford and the field :(
10 notes · View notes
duck-in-a-spaceship · 21 days
Text
Final chapter! Sorry for the wait on this one, I swear I just blinked and it was March all the sudden. Crazy how time works like that.
Anyway, this one was really fun to write! It's nice to bring all the poets back together for some good times. Hope you all enjoy as well.
Chapter text under the cut
+++
There were birds bickering on the tree branch outside. They pecked at the spring berries hanging from thin branches, ones that waved and danced as they played, that sent their wings fluttering as they fought to regain their balance. One of the birds grabbed onto the cluster of berries, taking to the skies in a flutter of speckled wings, sending flower petals raining down. The other bird followed, chirping as it flew- almost indignantly, Todd imagined.
Keating stood at the front of the class, and Todd watched him through his faded image in the reflection of the glass. He read aloud from a book of poetry, but his voice only served as background music, as a score for the scenes of nature Todd watched unfold outside. He could hardly bear to think about poetry; just sitting in Keating’s class made his stomach churn, made his palms sweaty.
There was going to be a Dead Poets meeting that night, a real one. One with Charlie and Cameron and Meeks and Pitts and Knox. One that Todd had decided he was ready for, had told Neil he would read for. One that he didn’t have a single poem in mind for.
The birds knew nothing of twisting stomachs, of secret societies, of poetry , and so Todd watched them.
Someone tapped on his shoulder.
He turned to see Cameron trying to secretly pass him a slip of paper, eyeing Keating the entire time. Todd took it from him, folding the note up in his hand so no one could see its contents. He smoothed it out on his desk to reveal Neil’s slanted handwriting.
Ready for the meeting tonight? :)
Todd turned to look at Neil, who caught his eye and waved, smiling softly.
“Mr. Perry, did you want to offer up your thoughts as to what ideas our dear friend Mr. Eliot was exploring here? Why the allusion to the great Michelangelo, maybe?”
“Oh! Uh, well…” Neil scrambled to find where they were in the poem the class had been discussing all period. Cameron raised his hand instead, but Keating waited for Neil to find his place, to try and come up with an answer.
Todd used the moment of distraction to flip over the paper and write out a response.
Not really. Still pretty nervous. And no poem ideas yet.
He caught Cameron’s eye, who had lowered his hand as Neil constructed an answer about legacy and importance, and motioned for him to hand the paper back. Cameron reached out to take it, sliding it onto Neil’s desk. A couple moments later, Cameron was handing it back.
“Last one,” he mouthed, pointedly eyeing Keating.
Todd followed his gaze to where Keating was still teaching the class, and for a moment they made eye contact, the new note grasped in Todd’s hand. Keating looked away in an instant, moving on to continue his lecture, flitting away like the birds on the trees outside. It was enough for Todd to know that they’d been caught, but were being given the gift of ignorance anyway.
He smoothed out the note on his desk, written on the same slip of paper. Neil had crammed a response in on the edge of the page, words pressed against the margin.
You’ll do great. Library after classes? Can look for poems
There was a heart next to the words, covering up part of Todd’s last message. It didn’t quite shake the nerves away from his chest, but he smiled anyway. Todd turned to look at Neil over his shoulder, to give him a nod in lieu of any more notes. Neil smiled in return, giving him a thumbs up.
Outside, the birds resettled on the branches of their tree. One of them puffed up its feathers in the face of the last wintery breezes, and the other leaned over to preen its companion.
At the front of the classroom, Keating closed his book with a resounding slam, and Todd jumped as he made his final point.
“Alright everybody. I’m sure many of your other teachers would insist we still have-” he paused to check his watch, making a show of pushing back his sleeve. “-30 seconds of class time. But I think we’ve gotten the most out of our time today. I’ll see you all tomorrow, and we can finish our discussion on Mr. Prufrock.”
The class sprung to life, grabbing their things and packing their bags, chairs and shoes scraping against the hardwood floors, all underscored by the sudden burst of chatter. Todd took his time collecting his own things, getting his notebook and pencils all back where they belonged. By the time him and Neil filed out of the classroom, they were the last ones left.
“Mr. Perry,” Keating called out as the bell rang.
Neil turned to look over his shoulder, stopping Todd with a hand on his wrist. “Yeah?”
“That poetry recommendation I gave you, did it work out for you?”
Neil’s face split into a grin, and he looked over at Todd for a moment before turning back to Keating. “Yes, captain!” he confirmed, and then Todd was pulling him out the door, blush already creeping up on his face.
It most certainly did.
+++
It almost felt strange, sometimes, to go back to the bustle of proper Dead Poets meetings after his and Neil’s time spent alone in the woods. He forgot how loud they all could be, as they took to the stairs together, sneaking through the hallways, whispering and shushing each other the entire way, Cameron’s finger pressed eternally against his lips. He usually followed them from behind, corralling them along while Neil or Charlie took the lead.
Charlie had decided it was his turn, that night. Or maybe Neil had, in the interest of staying with Todd so their hands could be clasped together, of not pulling him to the front before the time came. The scrap of paper tucked into his jacket pocket felt like it was burning a hole there. He’d copied a poem on it, one he found in the library, sitting across from Neil. It was good, he knew, Neil had told him as much. It was going to be really damn good.
The spring grass was springy under their feet, and it softened their footsteps all the way to the cave.
“Come on, who’s taking forever back there? Hurry up Pitts, you should be faster than any of us!”
“Charlie, would you quiet down?”
“Oh come on, we’re miles away from Welton by now!”
“Sorry we’re coming! We found a beetle!” Meeks pushed past Todd, rushing to catch up with everyone else. They all filed into the cave, still talking over each other, bickering over who got to sit where, who ended up smushed against who. Todd and Neil ended up sitting shoulder to shoulder, in an unspoken agreement that it seemed everyone had signed off on.
“Alright, alright, quiet down, we have business to conduct.” Charlie brought the meeting to order, kind of. Their relentless dialogue quieted to something more of a whisper, a waterfall winding down into the babbling brooke. “Thank you, thank you,” Charlie went on. He was standing in the middle of the cave, in that space where Todd knew he would be standing, soon.
Neil elbowed him in the side, nodding encouragingly. “Come on,” he said softly, the words only for Todd’s ears.
“I, uh, I have something.”
That got everyone to really, truly shut up. The babbling brooke froze over, somehow.
“Alright, Todd!” Someone cheered, Meeks maybe, and the rest of the voices soon joined in.
“Holy shit, yeah!”
“Go on then, get up there!”
The poets gave him some scattered applause while he took center stage, Neil clapping him on the back as he rose to his feet. The moonlight shone through the opening to the cave overhead, gleaming on Todd like an improvised spotlight. Ashes from one of their old fires smeared black on the bottom of his shoes, scratching the old burned wood over the stone like an artist’s charcoal. Todd realized he would no longer have to wonder if he was the type of person that could say things and make people listen; he was about to find out.
Then again, judging from his captive audience, all quiet, all eyes on him, maybe he already knew.
He pulled the folded scrap of paper from his pocket, carefully holding it up in front of him. The spotlight of the moon felt horribly revealing, but it lit his way as well, casting its glow on the words he’d copied down from an old book just hours ago.
Todd cleared his throat, aware he was taking too long. He didn’t know how Neil did it, how he stood under the beaming glare of real spotlights, in front of a theater packed with people, instead of just a cave. He could do it too, he could do something that was just a fraction of all that.
They’d rehearsed for it, afterall.
Todd looked up at Neil as he began, introducing his poem for those eyes only, even though they were the only ones that had already helped him pick it out.
“This is Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.”
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Todd’s voice rose as he came to the final lines of the poem, belting them out for the world to hear, yawping into the night.
“Do not go gentle into that good night!” he practically shouted. The rest of the poets started to rise to their feet around him, spurred on by Neil. “Rage, rage against the dying of the light!”
They formed a circle around him, and Todd felt congratulatory hands grip his shoulders, slap his back.
“Rage, rage against the dying of the light!” Pitts shouted out, echoing the final words of the poem, like the cave bringing Todd’s voice back to him.
“Come on Todd, lead the way!” Neil gripped onto his shoulders, one set of hands among many. He pushed Todd forward slightly, urging him to the opening of the cave.
“Make way, come on, get out of the way,” Cameron urged, ushering the boys aside, elbowing Knox, waving away Charlie.
The forest sprawled out in front of Todd, the whole world his stage. The hands on his shoulders urged him to seize it, urged him to charge forwards and show it what he could be. He thrust his hand still clutching that scrap of paper into the air. “Rage, rage against the dying of the light!”
The poets echoed his words, and Todd led them out into the forest, flashlights blazing through the air like flames. “Rage, rage!” they cried, Todd urging them onward while they urged him forward. Rage against Welton, against their parents, against their teachers, against the whole goddamn world that had done everything it had done to them.
Neil’s hands gripped his shoulders tight, his laughter filling the space between words. Charlie jumped beside him, one arm wrapped around Cameron, whose grin was uncharacteristically wide. Knox had taken off his jacket and was waving it above his head like a war banner. Pitts was louder than any of them, hand in hand with Meeks as they stormed through the woods.
Todd didn’t know where they were going, where he was leading his troops. He knew, somewhat nonsensically, somewhat madly , that they were going to win.
The wind tore the paper from his grasp and took it to the treetops. It curled through the air, fluttering not down to the forest floor with the leaves but up, up, to join the stars. Todd watched it go, and wondered if he was going with it.
+++
“God that was amazing ,” Neil said. He fell down onto his bed, boots kicking up into the air. Todd waved goodbye to Meeks as he closed the door behind them. The vestiges of adrenaline still flowed through his veins, kicking around in his skull and warming his face.
“I mean really, Todd,” Neil went on, sitting up. He jumped to his feet as he did so, seemingly unable to sit still. Todd knew the feeling. “I think that was the best Dead Poets Society meeting we ever had. I think that was the best Dead Poets Society meeting there ever was .”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Todd protested, but it was weak. He spoke the words without belief, and gave them life through grinning teeth. “I mean there were a lot of Dead Poets meetings we never even saw. Who knew what Keating was up to in there?”
Neil laughed. “Come on, nothing as good as that.” He rose to his feet, still jittery with that same adrenaline that Todd could feel, warming their faces. He reached out and grabbed Todd’s hands, clasping them tightly. “Nothing as good as you. ”
Todd reached up to press their lips together in a short kiss, one that Neil tried to chase as he pulled away. “All thanks to you.”
And it was , Todd knew. Because he had never been that kind of person, who stood under moonshine spotlights and spoke words people listened to. He needed someone to drag that out of him, to shove him under that light and prop him upright and listen, really listen, to what he had to say.
He needed to find that Todd Anderson, and in order to do so, he found Neil Perry as well. The Neil Perry that looked at him with that wide smile and soft eyes, and said,
“It was my pleasure.”
6 notes · View notes
noroalia · 4 months
Note
98
uh its
Tumblr media
i cant link this
5 notes · View notes
Text
Spotify is so funny it'll suggest to you the playlist Is It New Wave? and song number 2 on it is Cherry Bomb by the Runaways like. okay I think you have your answer there
3 notes · View notes
dogin8 · 1 year
Text
Is there a correlation between the pure unrestrained drama gay people be putting in their romantic writings, letters, songs throughout history and how they have had to deal with being judged for every other part of their personality so are less likely to restrain themself for fear of judgement in their writing?
because gay people really do say the darndest thing
2 notes · View notes
arthurrussell · 1 year
Text
still feel like the 2020 shawn mendes album was criminally underrated. CRIMINALLY
2 notes · View notes
itsthegovt · 8 months
Note
🎶✨when you get this, put 5 songs you actually listen to, then publish. Send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨
Anything by Larry June but
1 note · View note
What's your favorite HLv2 song?
Well one hand, I tend to listen to death toll on repeat the most (all of the songs are bangers though, don’t get me wrong)
On the other hand, lost silver song has had a grip on me since v1 and it’s even better in v2 so… probaly a tie between those two if I had to pick
0 notes
vangh17a · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
It's taken me a year to get to this point. And now I can finally say. We're in it now.
Start | <- Previous | Pt 28 | Next ->
✨Masterpost✨
Thank you guys for your continued support! I'm going to take a briiiief break from posting Wanderer so I can work out the plot for the next arc, as well as some very important details!
In the meantime check out @twinpathy for a small side project I'm working on with a good friend.
I'll probably post doodles related to Wanderer, and I'll update you guys for when its return will be!
Stay Tuned for an Anniversary Event on February 1st!
Also mega shout out to hhumanoid for making this absolute banger that somehow let me power through the flu and finish this comic! Drop by and say hi :D
2K notes · View notes
technicolorxsn · 1 year
Text
I forgot how good incitatus was
1 note · View note