Idk Who Needs To Hear This, But God’s Plan For You Is To Read Your Little Gay Fanfictions Don’t Worry

I'm not really in the MCR fandom but I get a lot of exposure to it and I like that every picture of Gerard Way here is captioned like "my sweet little mouse wife, she's only three blueberries tall and lives in a little hollowed out pumpkin and wears a little apron and makes little pies and has little tea parties with her animal friends on a little mushroom table, and we like to hold hands and frolick through the fields and pick flowers and cuddle under a blanket with hot cocoa in front of the fireplace when it gets cold" and pictures of Frank Iero are captioned like "I need to stomp his fucking skull in and blend him into a fine meat paste" and both of those things mean that you like the person

its so scary to put yourself out there but a SINGLE message saying "hi i loved what you made it touched me in some way" makes it all worth it 10000%

ok au where after becoming archivist jon starts getting into the habit of making vent tiktoks in his car after work because tim showed him how and at first he was like “this is stupid” but then it genuinely started helping him decompress so he just kept doing it in secret. and he eventually he gains a minor following who are becoming increasingly concerned because it goes from “the most INSUFFERABLE statement giver came in today” to “i got fucking KIDNAPPED AGAIN!!!”

characters who are actually two characters are so important to me. d.i.d. doppelgängers. possession. twins. clones. au versions of the same person. sometimes a guy is two guys and that is so so so important to me

I can’t explain why but this scene gives peak 3am at a sleepover energy

Couldn't get her out of my mind, so...

Also, why am I not surprised a pretty Russian assasin would be the thing to finally push me over into posting fanart? 😵‍💫

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A moulin has its own gravity.

More than what ties us to the earth.

The pull is much stronger, like invisible arms

tugging at my sleeves.

It reaches out, beckoning, whispering

“come down, join us, come and see what lies beneath. 

Come and witness the divine mysteries.”

The roar of water becomes a rush of voices,

crying out in rapturous wonder as they tumble

into the blue.

I long to join my own voice to that choir.

This is not suicidal.

I know that if I make the plunge, I will almost certainly die—

but death is not the void that’s calling me.

It’s something deeper.

Something older, yes, older than death,

older than life, older than the stars,

maybe older than God.

It has its own gravity.

i am aware of the problems. however. i would rather be comfy in my bed. good night.