Unholydisaster13 - Goddess Of Procrastination

im her sister and can confirm, i was gnawing at my enclosure and almost killed someone

i was casually doodling random shit on printer paper and all of a sudden my sister is blowing my phone with ao3 being down and now im tempted to draw a skull with a bloody arrow going through it and labeling it "me fr" (i cant draw for shit)

the day you say sorry to the air is the day i die

i should say sorry to the air, i take too much of it-

those cult members are going to find out why she is referred to as "dreaded Persephone" the hard way

the general idea is this: zag is kidnapped by a surface cult who think his blood will give them eternal life, and persephone is the only one who can go far enough afield to find him.

(per wikipedia: goddess of spring, flowers, death, life, vegetation and destruction)

so remember when Instagram, Facebook, and Snapchat were down for like a day and Twitter was like

me at 6 years old

my brain: what the fudge

my eyes: huh

my brain: aren't you supposed to be crying

my eyes: for what, candy?

my brain: no your finger

my eyes:

my brain: your baby finger is backward

my eyes:

my brain: it's broken

my eyes:

my brains: it's not supposed to look like that

my eyes:

my eyes: *SWEAT GLANDS ACTIVATE*

@whatisgrass just bust down my door, said without pause, "there are a lot of things I want to see before I die and Papá dancing is not one of them," and left me to die laughing.

you son of a bitch.

incorrect quotes ft. @dead-deadashell

first Pride shirt for my first Pride month

my mom is awesome

im back and i have food.

I started writing fanfiction again after an eternity and I wrote a fucking Honkai: Star Rail. @whatisgrass be disappointed in me and then watch me not give a fuck. I actually have two more but you can just find them on my profile so…

Obama is a dream god, I’ve decided, see you in fifteen years

thank you

I was once in a place where no one could hear my screams. My screams were loud once, loud and demanding and begging to be set free.

But they grew weak, growing weaker as my hope to be heard was lost. I was trapped, I didn't know where I was, time did not exist, and I was alone.

My children... my little twins... would they even remember me?

...

There is a small crack beneath my fingers. It feels rough, the first texture I've felt in so long. There is no feeling in the darkness, nothing to cling onto, nothing to cry into.

The crack grows and grows. I see flashes of violet and swirls of red-orange that highlight my palms, the first light in hundreds, thousands of years maybe.

The crack becomes so large that it breaks and two hands reach out in the darkness as the familiar burn of lightning and flames crackle on my skin, illuminating the shadows.

I take them and my screams are released; a small, weary, liberated cry is among them:

"Thank you."