Happy Birthday Mary Shelley! (Aug. 30th, 1797) 🎂

Reblog with your pronunciation and where you live

~ ❀ ✿{x} ✿ ❀ ~

I started this on the night of the finale and I just finished it lol HERE YA GO GUYS

it’s been an amazing ride

please do not repost this anywhere ever!!!

Y’all went coocoo crazy for coco puffs on my last Pryamidscheme post, so who am I to deny the masses my warmup sketches of their old man crackship?

Bonus below

plus a sketch i made last night of how I think Stan and Steve met:

As a celloist this is very important to me

barnabas’s dirge

Michael Distortion.

hey guys there's smth in my doorway I think im gonna let it in with no intention to keep it and idk maybe feed it. I hope it doesn't come back hahaha

I’m convinced that this is what lisa and the creature’s kiss in the cemetery would’ve been like if they weren’t interrupted 🙄

"Jonah Magnus did leave him in that place, John. He got the letter, oh yes, and was on good terms with Mordechai Lukas. He could have interceded, perhaps even saved him, but he did not. And it was not out of malice, or because he lacked affection for Barnabas Bennett: he retrieved those bones sadly enough when the time came. Bones that you can still find in my office, if you know where to look." (TMA Ep. 92)

[Commission for @chrisis-averted! Thank you for the support!]

I have two wolves inside me.

One is committed to learning moral ethics.

The other says “Ough, I wanna be him” to any villain that serves cunt.

everybody’s always on writing prompts like “what if there was a world where everyone had a timer ticking down to their death… but you met someone whose timer said infinity!” or “what if everyone had their cause of death tattooed across their forehead… but you met someone whose forehead said THE CREATURE!” Enough -

enough. stop with the shock value. there is no need to insert THE CREATURE; the benign concept of such a world is horrifying enough. not even in urgency, but just in banal, everyday interaction. imagine you meet someone and their timer says two years. not tomorrow, not urgently soon, but two years. enough to do quite a lot. they could fall in love in that time - could they get engaged? have a baby? you might otherwise get to know them, befriend them, but perhaps you opt not to, make a conscious choice not to invest in your own grief. what balancing act would every individual person have to participate in - I have ten years, is that long enough to be a good mother to children? is that long enough to secure a caretaker for my own mother? my wife will die a few months before me. my newborn’s timer reads nineteen years.

and cause of death. you interview for a job and emblazoned across the healthy, smiling face of the HR lady is MALNUTRITION. your country is prospering, safe, but every person you meet on the street from the babies to the old women read BOMB. BOMB. what kind of havoc would fate wreak on the world? what about the loss of privacy? how would that shape our notions of hope? idk man I think a lot of those ancient poems were right, and the fates are monsters. I’m interested by the framing of these ideas as trite horror tales when the premises themselves are so much more disturbing if simply taken to their logical ends