#IT'S SO BRUTAL

[maxdurden]

fuck the episode fearful symmetry from sophomore year of fantasy high specifically. i'm just trying to make a bagel and now i'm crying. cool.

[itswashington17]

So I've beaten the first of the two Ultimate EX worlds in Banana Rumble.

The stages were so brutal. If you're not a Monkey Ball master, do not attempt these unless you want to experience torture and I haven't done the second one yet.

[doctorobinavitch]

every time i see brooke absolutely plead "why won't you ever let me all the way in?!?" i want to get thrown through a bus and i want to take l*cas there with me

[amyrlinegwene]

idk if they left this wide open so they can answer it in coming episodes but they said a damane cannot use anything she views as a weapon against a sul’dam but they can use something they view as a weapon against themselves ?

No, they cannot. Even that choice is taken from them.

[vigilvntes]

gotham war is genuinely sending me into distress

[ageofgeek]

I have been procrastinating going through my old social media and wiping it clean (at least, as much as you can these days), but I'm finally getting around to it, and oooooofff.

Every single one of my FB posts from 2010 is like a bullet to the heart. The cringe is just... so devastating.

[itsbrucey]

Big fan of sun motifs in characters not necessarily being about positivity and happiness and how they're so " bright and warm" but instead being about fucking brutal they are.

Radiant. A FORCE of nature that will turn you to ash. That warmth that burns so hot it feels like ice. Piercing yellow and red and white. A character being a Sun because you cannot challenge a Sun without burning alive or taking everything down with them if victorious.

[seethesunny]

dbd canceled what's the point of starting shows these days...

[becasbelt]

I can't get over how scared caitlyn looks when she realizes she's about to be killed, that there's nothing she can do to stop it. she just regained consciousness, discovered that someone she trusted had betrayed her (had, perhaps, never been on her side at all), and then her one last attempt at resistance was brutally shut down before it even began.

the wide eyes. the way her breathing speeds up right before maddie pulls the trigger. this is caitlyn kiramman realizing she's about to die, and she is terrified.

[grayintogreen]

The Mighty Nein really are the “tonight we cancel the apocalypse” party, because that is the attitude of the patently insane and patently hypercompetent in ways that are too insane to be real and yet WORK. VM have Big Justice League energy. They’re saving the world by the book. They’re very much the epitome of their classes. This is not a knock. They are good at what they do, but their flair is extremely straightforward. Percy is gonna shoot fifty times a round. Keyleth is gonna archdruid her little heart out. Grog’s gonna smash. Scanlan is gonna sing a little song. That’s them! We like that for them! But it is very straightforward clock in/clock out heroism. They have day jobs now.

I’m not gonna be unfair to BH right now because I think they haven’t really figured out their niche yet and are constantly stuck in the mindset of not actually being heroes and being, and I say this out of love for their stupid little faces, selfish little turds. We might get a better idea later on when we come back to them as high level adventurers after how they shake out here, but so far they’re somewhere in the middle. A little Suicide Squad-y.

The M9 on the other hand are not clock in/clock out heroes. They’re barely heroes. They get told something could be a threat and they deal with it and they won’t just kill you, they will EMBARRASS you. They will act like you’re nothing and bet on fight outcomes mid-combat, call you names, hit you with lollipops and dicks, turn you into a fruit bat, whatever they have to. They’ll ruin your action economy, stun you, whatever. Not only did they come to stop you, you’ll be shamed so hard that your Lich won’t even want to rise again to seek vengeance because you know they’ll do it again. They’re canceling the apocalypse not because the one doing it is dead, but because they’re so demoralized there’s no gong forward. When the Mighty Nein come for your plans, your plans DO NOT survive because they’ve had dicks drawn all over them.

[bloobydabloob]

Look at that beautifully low quality. He will never switch apps halfway through again

[jouxlskaard]

elias in hades, perchance?

if tma were a hades-style roguelike I think it'd be entertaining to have elias just show up like a little bitch and give you tasks that eventually give you rewards. I don't think he'd show up as the final boss until much later on in the story (equivalent to the hades epilogue) where he'll become the eye's pupil and the player (presumably jon) has to kill him to stop the eyepocalypse or smth (don't question my thought process too much I haven't actually rationalised it all in my head yet lol)

[cosmicdenro]

need shockwave. i am attached to the idea of her getting weirdly attached to Bee and giving into the toxicity of it lol lol [not ship art]

[zorangezest]

doodles from last night, skybound soundwave and thundercracker because their four interactions are my favourite thing

[shouyuus]

18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

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[glitter-stained]

Me explaining Jason lore to a friend:

Me: So his dad goes to jail and then he takes care of his mom while she's sick and develops addiction but she dies and then he's on the streets, where he's like, starving. But then he tries to steal the wheels of the Batmobile and meets Batman!

Her: oh nice

Me: yeah, after a quick stint in a terrible group home he's taken in by Batman and becomes Robin and he's an absolute sweetheart, he has his issues sometimes but like they're so understandable and he's the cutest! And then he may or may not kill a man after finding the body of his victims who killed herself, and then he finds out his mom wasn't his bio mom so he runs away to find her, but he tells her he's robin and then she betrays him and sells him out the Joker, who brutally beats him up with a crowbar! And then there's a bomb that explodes and he tries to shield his bio mom from the blast! And she still dies! And he also dies! At fifteen years old!

Her: wait what

Me: and then he wakes up in his grave

Her : oh no

Me: and he has to dig himself out.

Her: what

Me: and then he immediately gets hit by a fucking car and is brought to the hospital where he immediately falls into a coma

Her: wtf

Me: and then he's catatonic because of brain damage

Her: ...

Me: It gets worse.