This Is Probably Like My Favourite Comic Ever Made In The World I Think

“Where on earth did you get a harmonica?”

Connor took his harmonica away from his mouth with mild annoyance. “You didn’t get your prison-issued harmonica when you got locked in here?”

The enderman guy in the next cell over, Ranboo he said his name was, looked taken aback, which was the biggest change in emotion Connor had seen from him. “No?”

“It was a joke man, don’t worry.” He didn’t want the guy to have a heart attack or something. “I hid it in my onesie. I mean, there’s no radio in here so I had to make do.”

“What was that song you were playing? It was really nice.” Ranboo still sounded kind of rough- he’d been crying on and off since Sam had brought him in yesterday.

“It’s- uh- it’s Mask Sus Remix.” Connor looked down at the harmonica and then up at Ranboo.

“Sounds interesting… is it a classical piece?”

“Uh… yeah, definitely.” Connor replied after a moment of silence. Ranboo nodded. Silence fell between them again. Connor wanted to pick up the harmonica and start playing again to mask the silence, like he had when Ranboo was crying, and even put the thing to his mouth, but lowered it again. “Hey, Ranboo?”

Ranboo looked at him, those red and green eyes so jarring to see. “Yeah?”

“Why are you in here? What the hell did you do?”

Ranboo laughed. Well, he gave a single, dry “ha!”, at least. “It’s a long story. What about you?”

“You clearly don’t understand how the exchange of information works, so I’m not telling you.” Connor folded his arms.

Ranboo shook his head. “Really, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is that why you’re crying all the time?” Connor asked, figuring he might as well ask all the emotionally invasive questions now.

Ranboo shook his head, looking more and more distressed. He didn’t say anything, though, just turned away and pressed his shirt cuffs to his eyes.

“Sorry man, didn’t mean to upset you.” Connor said, mentally kicking himself. He put the harmonica to his lips again and began to play again, this time something a little more relevant. A song called “Folsom Prison Blues”, although still as incomprehensible as the last, as he’d only leaned to play a few days ago.

Time wasn’t dictated by clocks in prison. This wasn’t particularly new to Connor, the null of time, but it was still a weird feeling. The warden was their time god here, when he came with food. A full meal delivery passed before Ranboo spoke again.

“I just really miss my kid. And my husband.”

Connor had been drifting off on the floor, but sat up to look and listen. “You have a kid? And a husband? I didn’t know anyone was, like, able to form meaningful connections anymore on this server.”

Ranboo chuckled at that. “Yeah. Me, Tubbo, and Michael. I miss them a lot.”

Having come from nothingness, Connor couldn’t relate to the whole family thing, but it still was sweet to hear Ranboo speak so lovingly about them.”

“Hey man, it’s gonna be okay.” Connor wasn’t quite sure why he said it, but it felt like the right thing to do. “We’re gonna be okay.”

The prison alarms were still blaring when Ranboo was slaughtered in front of the prison. Connor watched his body collapse to the ground like a puppet that’s had its strings cut.

Connor heard Technoblade’s yell, the gasps from the crowd. It was the middle of the day, blinding hot and hostile. His now dirty onesie stuck to him like a second skin. And he watched Ranboo die.

He slid into the ranks of the gathered crowd of locals like he has always been there, and no one even gave him a second glance. So forgettable he might as well have just been there the whole time, that’s who Connor was.

He watched the place where Ranboo’s body had fallen for a long time after the crowds had left. He was mildly sad, as one would be for who, in all reality, was essentially a stranger. But it was the husband and the kid that he couldn’t stop thinking about. Even that much love wasn’t enough to stop a blade.

Connor dug a small hole in the bloody sand and buried the harmonica. An unfair grave for an unfair death.

there are two types of children who come out of abusive homes. Sirius and Regulus are them, that’s why they are always at odds.

Sirius knows how precious sleep is, he can sleep anywhere anytime at the drop of a hat

Regulus can’t let himself sleep. Even safe and alone he feels so uncomfortable and can’t sleep until his eyes droop and he can’t fight anymore

Sirius’ rage turns hot and passionate, an angry fire blazing

Regulus’ rage turns cold and calculate, concentrated into fine points of cruelty

Sirius feels everything all too much, consuming all of him until he cannot feel himself anymore

Regulus feels so little that he cannot navigate his own emotions, and when he feels something strong it consumes every part of him

Sirius begs for contact and touch with everyone he knows, to confirm they are there, and to soothe him

Regulus’ skin pricks when he is touched, no matter how much he loves them. He can’t handle close proximity

Sirius hides his pain with a smile

Regulus hides behind dead eyes

and yet they are still, two scared and traumatised boys, hiding.

they hid in that house, and they hide now, with the people they love most.

because that’s the Black brothers. they hide.

because they don’t know how to be found.

but they’re begging

they are begging to be found.

“I’ll just rest my eyes” is the biggest lie you’re going straight to snorkmimimi land

• An Oxford comma walks into a bar, where it spends the evening watching the television, getting drunk, and smoking cigars.

• A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly.

• A bar was walked into by the passive voice.

• An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening.

• Two quotation marks walk into a “bar.”

• A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite.

• Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything.

• A question mark walks into a bar?

• A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly.

• Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, "Get out -- we don't serve your type."

• A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud.

• A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.

• Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart.

• A synonym strolls into a tavern.

• At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar -- fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack.

• A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment.

• Falling slowly, softly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor.

• A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered.

• An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel.

• The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known.

• A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned by a man with a glass eye named Ralph.

• The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.

• A dyslexic walks into a bra.

• A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines.

• A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert.

• A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget.

• A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony

- Jill Thomas Doyle

We stan Bruno Madrigal in this household

Reblog for a larger sample size for no sample size at all, because obviously nobody will vote

I know Criminal Minds is a show not reality bc in ep5 S10 a dad knew all of his son's friends

Klimt + The Addams Family

authors who write steve harrington as the most traumatized and fucked up little guy ever: i love and adore u. y'all keep me going. and when y'all go further and write in eddie munson as being somewhat of a savior to him??? that's my shit actually

hehehe i am a little gay gremlin