I Need To Stand Ankle Deep In A Creek About This

Nobody:

Mentally ill mfs:

Regulus black they could never make me hate you

1. historical or futuristic

2. opening or closing chapter

3. light+fluffy or dark+gritty

4. animal companion or found family

5. horror or romance

6. hard magic system or soft magic system

7. standalone or series

8. one project at a time or always juggling 2+

9. one award winner or one bestseller

10. fantasy or sci-fi

11. character description or setting description

12. first draft or final draft

13. love triangle in everything or no romance arcs

14. constant sandstorm or rainstorm

Pt.2 of Horror Ads

pov: uh oh, you didn't do your Spanish lessons today

You're frantically searching for your phone. Oh no, oh no, this is bad, you say inwardly. You finally locate your phone on your bedroom nightstand. While you're pulling up the app, you hear a small object rolling in the hall. It's coming towards you. They are already coming for you. Silence sweeps over your house. You take one last look around your room, knowing this is the last time you will see it.

You slowly open your eyes. A bright, white light is nearly blinding you. You steadily start to realize what you have done. These are the consequences of your actions. Your eyes, having already scanned the room, see no possible escape route. Pulling and tugging on the ropes that bind you would be no use. There is no escaping what you have done. The room looks to be soundproof. The floor is a solid, gray concrete, accompanied by pastel amber walls. The aura around you reeks of exhaustion and defiance. Crimson blood, still wet and fresh, is splattered across one of the corners. The wooden door to your left is painted white. Some paint is chipped off, revealing a startlingly bright red. The red is a suspiciously similar shade to the splattered blood. The door slowly creaks open, but nothing moves towards you. Then it happens, a small, bright green bird shuffles forward, through the creaky door. Where you're from this bird is a symbol of life, death, and growth. You curse under your breath, you are truly doomed now. Any sliver of hope you had before, is burned and disintegrated. With your heartbeat bursting in your ears, you silently pray to the gods for forgiveness. This bird is an omen. A cursed omen. Stories of El Pájaro Verde were spread to your ears as a child. Your past self would never have thought you would find yourself in this situation.

The toxic green bird lunges at you. You brace yourself for impact, but the impact never comes. You look up to find the foul fowl looking directly into your eyes. It's only centimeters from your face. Those piercing, black eyes seem almost hypnotic. You can't look away, mesmerized. Suddenly, after what feels like hours of gazing into those captivating orbs, a loud slam comes from outside the room, breaking your eye contact. A tall man in a lab coat casually struts into the room. He looks extremely out of place in your surrounding environment. He is wearing a semi-casual, blue work shirt under his coat. Brown, rounded glasses frame his face. His dark brown hair is piled up on his head, giving him a little more height. He's about 6 foot, you would say. "Hello," he says. You notice he has a little name tag pinned onto his lab coat. "Luis von Ahn," it reads. Luis von Ahn, Luis von Ahn, Luis von Ahn, you repeat over and over again in your head. I've heard that name before, come on think. Only then does he seem to realize that your restraints prevent you from responding to him. He reaches over and gently rips the tape, which previously covered your mouth, off.

You immediately inhale a sharp breath, savoring the bitter taste of the air around you. The man in front of you, Luis, looks expectant, a hoarse "Hello," falls from your dry lips, in response. Soon after your response, a thought hits you like a freight train, Luis von Ahn, the owner of the company that's ruining my life, he probably owns me too. He grins, a smile so genuine, warm, it almost hides the psychotic intent behind this man. That grin is the last memory you have for a while.

One week later

You look around, not knowing who you are or how you got here. Your life has turned into a company scheme. Luis is your only friend in this bare corporate world. You're a tiny worker bee in a giant hive. You know you could be exterminated at the snap of his fingers. You often find yourself wondering what your life was like before they took you or what you did to get yourself here. You have many theories, but none of them seem likely. You will spend the rest of your pathetic little life buzzing away for the capitalist pigs that own your soul. Your forever has been stolen from you, there is no hope in getting it back.

i hate timothee chalamet. one. two. i hate him as regulus black. hes 30 years old, regulus died when he was 18.

what are bathrooms for if not having panic attacks and sobbing your eyes out

DO NOT SUPPORT SALVATION ARMY 

I know I already made a “happy pride month” post but this one is for the trans and genderqueer people out there <3

I HOPE YOU STAY SAFE AND PROTECTED FROM TRANSPHOBIC ASSHOLES AND ACTUALLY ENJOY GAY MONTH!! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ BE WHO YOU AREEE FOR YOUR PRIDEEEE 😘🥳

“being kind is free” okay so is being a bitch?

do you ever think oh actually i am never going to stop being eleven years old and lonely