Abigail. 21. Multi-fandom. This is my secondary fandom blog. If you're here, you should probably check out my primary url: sassingintothevoid.
Fun fact: People who send asks are actually sexier than people who do not. Do with that as you will.

 

sadkittenclub:

midnightfitnesss:

spaceoddity212:

Before, depressed with an eating disorder.  Now, recovered caveman.

Re-blogging this cuz its from a guys perceptive!

I love seeing people all recovered and happy like yeah you kicked that illnesses ass you legend you rule ☺️

sadkittenclub:

midnightfitnesss:

spaceoddity212:

Before, depressed with an eating disorder.  Now, recovered caveman.

Re-blogging this cuz its from a guys perceptive!

I love seeing people all recovered and happy like yeah you kicked that illnesses ass you legend you rule ☺️

Emperor’s New College

xshiromorix:

tokyodoll13:

English Majors:

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Architecture Majors:

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Music Majors:

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Engineering Majors:

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Mathematics Majors:

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Theater Majors:

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Latin American Studies Majors:

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Linguistics Majors:

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History Majors:

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Religious Studies Majors:

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Law Students:

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Chemistry Majors:

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Women & Gender Studies Majors:

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Anthropology Majors:

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Sociology Majors:

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Philosophy Majors:

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Geology Majors:

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Economics Majors:

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Classics Majors:

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Government Majors:

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I love everything about this post.

donkos:

reading a foreign language: yeah
writing in a foreign language: ok
listening to a foreign language: wait
speaking in a foreign language: fuck

A Conversation With Your Main Character

maxkirin:

"So, hey I’m sitting down to write your story"

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"And you see, here’s an outline for the story…"

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"So I was thinking maybe you would… I don’t know… follow it?"

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Oh Death

sassingintothevoid:

So Teddyrooseveltvevo had this awesome prompt about a human falling in love with Death and killing people so they could keep seeing him until he gives up and asks them out and I… made it darker…

She met Death at 16 and has been chasing him ever since… 

It wasn’t exactly a man. Definitely not human. Featureless and cold, Death entered the night without a sound. There was a power in his very aura, a cold magnetism. The figure was supposed to draw souls from the corpses after the heart stopped and the brain slowed and the body’s desperate clutch on the soul had relaxed. He stood over the bodies and the souls lifted toward him, tremulous and pulsing, afraid. Death was not afraid. His figure was just a darker darkness beneath the inky black that swirled silkily between his limbs. The skin of his face was white, but grey sifted through.

She had never seen anything more beautiful. She was sixteen, and the car radio was still playing through the smoke and broken glass and smears of ruby blood. Her father’s arm was crooked, but his face was at peace. Death stood over him, and looked down at the girl. She looked up at him and never forgot.

Perhaps there are children whose souls never belonged to their bodies. Maybe there are souls so turbulent that the flesh never gets a grasp, or even yearns to loosen them from the mortal coil. Her soul was loose, and it flew to Death like a creature to its den.

Death’s white hand was spread out over her father’s face. The soul rose flickering from the dead man’s mouth and had almost reached the inky sleeve when her soul fled into Death’s hand. Blinking, the figure looked up at her. Her lips opened soundlessly, and her eyes dropped to her translucent soul, clinging to his fingers like spider web. Carefully, he shook loose the clinging tendrils and gazed upon it thoughtfully as it hung in the air between them. Then he lifted her soul into the air and leaned towards her. She struggled desperately against her seatbelt, trying to speak, trying to move. Death’s cold fingers brushed her jaw and gently, he blew the soul back into her lips. He gazed down at her face for a moment, snatched up her father’s soul, and vanished.

~

She was seventeen when he saw her again. Standing over a corpse, her fingers bruised and smeared with ruby once again. She was waiting for him as he arrived. “He attacked me,” She said breathlessly, gesturing at the broken body of the boy at her feet. “I had a knife, so…” She was stopped with a cough as once again, her soul drifted loosely through her lips. Death was ready. His translucent fingers wrapped around her mouth, tucking the soul back in.

“Shhhhhhh…” he whispered, reaching for the boy’s soul and dissolving into darkness again.

~

She was nineteen, and this time, there were two bodies. He appeared and gazed at her. “I had to see you again. You never come when I call.” Her voice was petulant, but she smiled. “My soul doesn’t belong to me. Take it. Take me with you.”

This time he paused and stared at her. Then, reaching for the other two souls, he vanished.

~

She was older, and this time, there were more bodies as well. “Listen!” She exclaimed as he appeared, “I don’t know what I am, but I can’t stop thinking about you, please don’t leave me again…” She choked, as her soul flooded into her throat again. This time, she spat it into her own fingers and looked up at him. “It’s getting looser. Please, won’t you take it this time?”

~

She was older again, nearly twenty two. “Listen!” she said again as Death appeared and began calmly harvested the souls floating all around her, “I tried moving on, but I just can’t. You’re… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, please, I can’t think of anything else, or anyone else, just please won’t you talk to me??”

~

The next time, there were even more bodies, and she was dressed in a black dress, smeared with rubies. Her posture had changed, and she had a hand on her hip when he appeared, “Am I annoying you yet?” she smirked, “Am I making your job difficult? It isn’t hard to stop me.” He paused and looked at her, devoid of expression. “You know what I want,” she whispered.

~

Two years had passed, and he had started to wonder where she was. He had not had to collect her yet, and he found himself looking for her as he passed down dark streets and quiet hospice wards. There were not many mortals to interest him here, and she was an exception.

It was early morning in the prison in Denmark. The walls were cold and humid and felt natural to his unnatural flesh as he passed down the curved halls to the darkest ward. He did not see her at first, but moved towards the crumpled corpse in the corner.

“You’re here,” she gasped, and he turned quickly. She was crouched in the corner, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes smudged with something dark and washed with something glistening. “I…” she breathed quietly, trying to get up, “I had forgotten how beautiful…” she leaned back against the wall, gazing at him. “I didn’t kill this one,” she whispered. “She didn’t want to live anymore and I didn’t stop her, but I didn’t think you would come because I thought you were avoiding me. I went too far and killed too many and now I’ve been here and I’ve missed you.”

He looked down and collected the soul of her cell mate. “How many have you killed?” his voice was sibilant and soft.

“Twenty-seven,” she murmured, instantly. “Twenty-seven for you. I was so jealous of them, getting to go with you. I was…”

He looked up at her again, a parting glance, and moved toward the door.

“Please.” She whispered, and he turned slightly back. “I know it isn’t my time, but… when can I see you again?”

He moved toward her slowly, without speaking, and she coughed as her soul lifted out of her mouth again. She quieted as he stood before her and dropped his mouth to hers, breathing in the filmy soul.

It wasn’t exactly a man. Definitely not human. Featureless and cold, Death entered the night without a sound. There was a power in his very aura, a cold magnetism. The figure was supposed to draw souls from the corpses after the heart stopped and the brain slowed and the body’s desperate clutch on the soul had relaxed. He stood over the bodies and the souls lifted toward him, tremulous and pulsing, afraid. Death was not afraid. His figure was just a darker darkness beneath the inky black that swirled silkily between his limbs. The skin of his face was white, but grey sifted through.

She had never seen anything more beautiful. She was sixteen, and the car radio was still playing through the smoke and broken glass and smears of ruby blood. Her father’s arm was crooked, but his face was at peace. Death stood over him, and looked down at the girl. She looked up at him and never forgot.

Perhaps there are children whose souls never belonged to their bodies. Maybe there are souls so turbulent that the flesh never gets a grasp, or even yearns to loosen them from the mortal coil. Her soul was loose, and it flew to Death like a creature to its den.

Death’s white hand was spread out over her father’s face. The soul rose flickering from the dead man’s mouth and had almost reached the inky sleeve when her soul fled into Death’s hand. Blinking, the figure looked up at her. Her lips opened soundlessly, and her eyes dropped to her translucent soul, clinging to his fingers like spider web. Carefully, he shook loose the clinging tendrils and gazed upon it thoughtfully as it hung in the air between them. Then he lifted her soul into the air and leaned towards her. She struggled desperately against her seatbelt, trying to speak, trying to move. Death’s cold fingers brushed her jaw and gently, he blew the soul back into her lips. He gazed down at her face for a moment, snatched up her father’s soul, and vanished.

~

She was seventeen when he saw her again. Standing over a corpse, her fingers bruised and smeared with ruby once again. She was waiting for him as he arrived. “He attacked me,” She said breathlessly, gesturing at the broken body of the boy at her feet. “I had a knife, so…” She was stopped with a cough as once again, her soul drifted loosely through her lips. Death was ready. His translucent fingers wrapped around her mouth, tucking the soul back in.

“Shhhhhhh…” he whispered, reaching for the boy’s soul and dissolving into darkness again.

~

She was nineteen, and this time, there were two bodies. He appeared and gazed at her. “I had to see you again. You never come when I call.” Her voice was petulant, but she smiled. “My soul doesn’t belong to me. Take it. Take me with you.”

This time he paused and stared at her. Then, reaching for the other two souls, he vanished.

~

She was older, and this time, there were more bodies as well. “Listen!” She exclaimed as he appeared, “I don’t know what I am, but I can’t stop thinking about you, please don’t leave me again…” She choked, as her soul flooded into her throat again. This time, she spat it into her own fingers and looked up at him. “It’s getting looser. Please, won’t you take it this time?”

~

She was older again, nearly twenty two. “Listen!” she said again as Death appeared and began calmly harvested the souls floating all around her, “I tried moving on, but I just can’t. You’re… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, please, I can’t think of anything else, or anyone else, just please won’t you talk to me??”

~

The next time, there were even more bodies, and she was dressed in a black dress, smeared with rubies. Her posture had changed, and she had a hand on her hip when he appeared, “Am I annoying you yet?” she smirked, “Am I making your job difficult? It isn’t hard to stop me.” He paused and looked at her, devoid of expression. “You know what I want,” she whispered.

~

Two years had passed, and he had started to wonder where she was. He had not had to collect her yet, and he found himself looking for her as he passed down dark streets and quiet hospice wards. There were not many mortals to interest him here, and she was an exception.

It was early morning in the prison in Denmark. The walls were cold and humid and felt natural to his unnatural flesh as he passed down the curved halls to the darkest ward. He did not see her at first, but moved towards the crumpled corpse in the corner.

“You’re here,” she gasped, and he turned quickly. She was crouched in the corner, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes smudged with something dark and washed with something glistening. “I…” she breathed quietly, trying to get up, “I had forgotten how beautiful…” she leaned back against the wall, gazing at him. “I didn’t kill this one,” she whispered. “She didn’t want to live anymore and I didn’t stop her, but I didn’t think you would come because I thought you were avoiding me. I went too far and killed too many and now I’ve been here and I’ve missed you.”

He looked down and collected the soul of her cell mate. “How many have you killed?” his voice was sibilant and soft.

“Twenty-seven,” she murmured, instantly. “Twenty-seven for you. I was so jealous of them, getting to go with you. I was…”

He looked up at her again, a parting glance, and moved toward the door.

“Please.” She whispered, and he turned slightly back. “I know it isn’t my time, but… when can I see you again?”

He moved toward her slowly, without speaking, and she coughed as her soul lifted out of her mouth again. She quieted as he stood before her and dropped his mouth to hers, breathing in the filmy soul.

fixing-her-face-in-a-compact:

nahshaw:

the shitty thing about having read a book in which a major character dies in the end is that when you see the movie it’s so fucking painful because when you’re seeing that character and whenever they’re smiling all you can think of is “you’re gonna fucking die” like you can literally feel your soul being ripped out of your chest

#am i the only one thinking of that one book

ah yes. the lack in our planets

fuckyeahcourtneyy:

This is the greatest knock knock joke in the history of all knock knocks jokes ever told, ever.

(Source: shittinggold)