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The Meeting
Wanted to draw Morgan Blackhand and satisfy my Silverhand mood XD
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It’s no longer a WIP💕
The afterlife is complete and thank you @luluxa for this amazing piece of art for our angel and demon 😈
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The word for sin is hamartia, which originally had to do with shooting and literally means a missing of the target. The man who refuses to accept Jesus as Saviour and Lord has missed the target in life. He dies with life unrealized; and he therefore dies unfitted to enter into the higher life with God.
William Barclay
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Happy Hour; smoking break at The Afterlife
It's been 9/10 years the last time I've made a gif for Tumblr and I was struggling
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proceed with caution indeed
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When V and Johnny burst back into the Afterlife, they begin to be known as the Cockroach. Affectionately, of course, anyone who sneered out the moniker would quickly find they weren’t able to eat solids for months or find welcome at the club.
Johnny didn’t like it at first, his ego sliced by the realisation that the people in his life did better without him in theirs. V threw humour over it when she reminded him of how he had pulled through to the other side of a nuclear devastation, and it was impossible for him to keep a straight face at any mention of it afterwards.
V was proud as fuck that her reputation was of someone difficult to kill, in spite of all the odds. Flattered as well, she took more care than was due to style and maintain her vibrant ‘ganic copper hair. Her whole schtick was being the fiery femme, the ruthless red-head, a babe serving brutal beat-downs.
Individually, they were pests. Forced proximity turned them into a fucking menace. Clair started stocking twice as much centzon as before, and Emmerick had to invest in cyberware to stabilise his blood pressure. If it had been anyone else, Rogue would have banned them long ago. As it stood, V was her best contractor, and life had become just a little bit brighter with them in it.
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jacket | boots
POV: You're five minutes late to your first meeting with the new Queen of the Afterlife.
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Question for Theist Jews, Christians, and Muslims
When you die, which version of you goes to the afterlife?
5-year-old you? 30-year-old you? Elderly you? You before you had brain damage that changed your personality? You after the brain damage? You before Alzheimer's changed your personality? You after Alzheimer's changed your personality?
Why that version?
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legend of the afterlife
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welcome to the big leagues
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Look in art: Sun Yuan & Peng Yu
Sun Yuan [born 1972] and Peng Yu [born 1974] are artists living and working collaboratively in Beijing.
* * * *
Billy Collins, “The Afterlife” →
They’re moving off in all imaginable directions,
each according to his own private belief,
and this is the secret that silent Lazarus would not reveal:
that everyone is right, as it turns out.
you go to the place you always thought you would go,
the place you kept lit in an alcove in your head.
Some are being shot into a funnel of flashing colors
into a zone of light, white as a January sun.
Others are standing naked before a forbidding judge who sits
with a golden ladder on one side, a coal chute on the other.
Some have already joined the celestial choir
and are singing as if they have been doing this forever,
while the less inventive find themselves stuck
in a big air conditioned room full of food and chorus girls.
Some are approaching the apartment of the female God,
a woman in her forties with short wiry hair
and glasses hanging from her neck by a string.
With one eye she regards the dead through a hole in her door.
There are those who are squeezing into the bodies
of animals—eagles and leopards—and one trying on
the skin of a monkey like a tight suit,
ready to begin another life in a more simple key,
while others float off into some benign vagueness,
little units of energy heading for the ultimate elsewhere.
There are even a few classicists being led to an underworld
by a mythological creature with a beard and hooves.
He will bring them to the mouth of the furious cave
guarded over by Edith Hamilton and her three-headed dog.
The rest just lie on their backs in their coffins
wishing they could return so they could learn Italian
or see the pyramids, or play some golf in a light rain.
They wish they could wake in the morning like you
and stand at a window examining the winter trees,
every branch traced with the ghost writing of snow.
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GUYS GET DOWN HERE LET’S GET ON THIS ‼️‼️‼️ MORT: RAGNARICK COLD OPEN }!!!!
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on her way to the afterlife
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*at the gates of heaven*
Angel: I’m sorry, sir, but reading over your life here … there’s just no way I can allow you into heaven. The Devil has a reservation for you.
Kakuzu: Understandable. I’ll be sure to tell my husband that he’s going there, too, then. We’re a package deal. *leaves*
*less than an hour later*
Angel: … back again? What happened?
Kakuzu: Well —
Hidan, popping up from behind: That ugly devil fucker can’t fight worry a shit! And what a little bitch; it was too easy to make him cry!
Kakuzu: *hands the angel a note* He wrote this and asked we be allowed entrance into Heaven. Apparently we caused too much of a disturbance down there. God co-signed it.
Angel:
Angel: Right this way, sirs.
Hidan: See, ‘Kuzu? I told you I had this shit handled!
Kakuzu: *kisses him* Good job, brat.
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