#and THE most complex

[moonbrewerr]

snily will forever be the most interesting platonic relationship to me.

the idea of severus growing up in an abusive home, feeling as though his mother is just standing by because he's too young to understand the abuse for what it is, not feeling as though he's worth love or protection. lily, growing up different from her family. a "freak" who doesn't fit in with them and who hasn't felt loved the same since her first burst of accidental magic.

snily meeting each other in cokeworth as young children and instantly connecting - severus showing lily that she's not a freak, that there are others like her and giving her a hand into this world, whilst lily shows severus that whilst his dad is bad, not all muggles are. they show each other that kindness does exist in their alternate worlds, you just have to find it.

then they go to hogwarts, and they're so sure that they'll end up together, that they'll both be placed in the same house or, even if they're not, their friendship will persist.

only to be placed into opposing houses.

severus, a child who's never had a sense of belonging besides lily, is placed into the house that hates hers, into a house that becomes flooding with anti-muggle rhetoric and he's been told that he belongs here. he's told that he belongs and all he's ever wanted is to belong, so he changes. consciously or not, he morphs himself to fit him.

lily who joins a house that has anti-slytherin rhetoric, watching as severus makes friends with the wrong crowd, lily hanging out with gryffindors that resent the slytherins but sticking by severus anyway. because she knows him, right? she knows that no matter what they say about his house, she knows him.

until she doesn't anymore. she lets his actions slide for years, lets herself pretend that the boy she met in cokeworth all those years ago is still in there somewhere and that they'll be able to pull through - until SWM.

and then it's two people who showed each other that they belonged, and that kindness existed and it's just gone. he joins the alliance that is actively working against her.

and then it's severus bringing the prophecy to the dark lord - another place he feels as though he belongs and can be worthy of something more than darks rooms and empty bottles in a small house - and not knowing who it's about, only for everything that those two have been through to come flooding back at the last minute when it's too late.

and he just has to persist. he has to persist knowing that he played a part in her death, and that his deflection doesn't change that. maybe, if lily were alive, his position in the war wouldn't have been the only thing to deflect, but his person too - maybe he could have reverted back to that kind boy in the park if she were still here, but what's the point? what's the point of redemption if the one person whose opinion actually mattered to you is gone? so he doesn't change. he has no reason to, not really.

and then he teaches her son and has to cope with the fact that he's the spitting image of james, besides the eyes. and he has to look into these eyes every single day - and he's expected to protect them. he's looking into eyes that he failed to protect once, and it's torture to know that once again, he has a change to redeem himself, yet she'd never know.

and isn't that so tragic?

that he manages to protect harry for years and give him the final pieces of the puzzle, yet lily never knows, and it doesn't feel complete. it doesn't feel like redemption to save a part of her rather than all of her.

[000bun]

[chloesimaginationthings]

Pit Bonnie learns being a FNAF parent is hard…

[croudjay]

all the other snails have cute and simple names and then there's clownpierce's fuck ass snail

[inkskinned]

we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.

"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."

i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.

you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"

i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.

what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.

i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.

"don't make a big deal about this," you said.

this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.

"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.

you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."

the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.

afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."

[flo-n-flon]

"There was an Aes Sedai at the White Tower when I was a novice. She was everything that I wanted to be. She was strong, controlled, precise. She… she was terrifying. "

Super quick but I need to bite someone I'm so excited: this was the way to avoid that

Welcome to Shohreh Aghdashloo in The Wheel of Time universe

[monachopsis-pluviophile]

I think there's actually something really profound in Donna's 'missing everything' gag. Like, yes, it's objectively funny that this woman has somehow missed every alien invasion in the entirety of her time on Earth.

But there's more to it than that. She's the most compassionate companion, the most down to Earth as the saying goes. She sees things that others don't. Like the missing sick records, the way others are treated, Martha's ring. Sees the inside of the Tardis before she sees the outside. And perhaps most importantly, she doesn't see The Time Lord - that big otherworldly figure. She just sees the Doctor. Sees his need for true companionship, his need for guidance, his need for someone to carry a burden he is being crushed under.

She misses the big things, yes, but in exchange she is so wholly, beautifully immersed in the small things no one else sees.

[oysters-aint-for-me]

tips on refrigerator ownership for the mentally ill

1.) letting food go bad does NOT make you a Bad Person.

2.) it is okay to throw out only one thing at a time. even especially if there are a lot of expired things in there.

3.) give yourself permission to throw out tupperware once in a while.

[sanctus-ingenium]

you can lead a horse to water, but

have some phone bg sized horses in water. i actually ended up with 12 of these if u can believe it.. i had not realised i drew so many of these

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[mioakem]

i find it funny how both tommy and tubbo had very little understanding of their canon counterparts and kinda just went with the flow and while doing so they created two of the most tragic characters i’ve ever seen and i think that is simply beautiful

[monikarozaa]

Careful, I bite 🩸🗡️

A self-indulgent fake book cover for an idea - what if The Phantom of the Opera had Astarion in it?

[waltricia]

We have not spent nearly enough time talking about how Nicola Coughlan is the most beautiful kisser in the world.

And this kiss should have immediately ended the “it’s rushed” debate. Because if a woman kissed me like that, 100% I’m marrying her. Are you fucking kidding me? Colin’s subsequent unhinged behavior is completely justified.

I will not be taking any questions on this.

[qcomicsy]

Batman having low self esteem is actually kind of funny in an absurdist level, like what do you MEAN you're the richest most disputable bachelor of the entire Gotham and part of the United States for actually more than twenty years, you raised pretty much more or less two functioning adults you trained eight competent fighters, you're best friend with SUPER MAN and WONDER WOMAN. You're one of the leaders of the fucking justice league, you got literally aliens and people in power from the government shutting their mouths to listen to you, you're so good at training people that your oldest also is able to do the same and your two youngest, you saved the world more times the world can count, you save the city every single fucking day, you bagged Talia Al Ghul and Catwoman and fumbled imensiously, you have no wrinkles, no one knows your age, you're 6'0, blue eyes, rich, cis het (allegedly) and yet you still come home and say to your self you're not enough ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

[kenjakusbraincum]

Sukuna is old. He is also weirdly cultured for the monster that he is. With so much time on his hands, he loves indulging in arts and literature, and as with everything else he tries, he's good at it. You wouldn't know this, of course, you are only his pet. The time you spend with him is limited and hardly consists of intellectual conversation. You are there to serve one purpose and you know that quite well. So when you wake up in his bed one morning, two things come as a surprise. First that you're even here. It's one of those rare occasions when Sukuna couldn't be bothered kicking or carrying you out of his chambers once your time together was up. Second, he's awake, bent over his desk and so concentrated on a little figurine in his hand that he doesn't immediately notice you've shuffled awake. Once your eyes focus, you see that he's holding a tool in his other hand. He's carving wood. You're almost hypnotized by the scene. The scene feels so private that even for a pet like you, who knows Sukuna in the most intimate way, it feels like you shouldn't be watching. But you can't look away.

"Awake?", he asks, without sparing a glance at you. You apologize for staring, and look for your clothes around the bed. You throw them on just precisely enough to cover up until you reach your chambers, just wanting to be as quick and innocuous as possible. You wait for Sukuna's approval to leave. He gives you a simple nod, once more avoiding to look at you. You leave feeling conflicted. Special, because he allowed you to stay and watch (even as little as you did), but saddened because he barely looked at you, once more solidifying in your mind that you're only interesting to him when you're naked and bent over. As long as you've been here, you could never stop wishing for his validation.

Sukuna knows when you get insecure too. He notices the way your eyes droop, the way you close in on yourself and seem absent in his presence. He justifies this excessive worry about you by telling himself he likes to be the only thing that bothers his pets. All the way until he realized he already is the only thing that can make you sad. This realization falls upon him one time he lashes out on you and sees the immediate change of heart on your face. Now, he isn't one to apologize, especially not to someone who is as low under him as his pet. But why does he feel guilty when he sees this one act of his ruin your day? When he catches a glimpse of you sitting in the garden with your head hung low, or leaving more food on your plate than you usually do. If only you knew the way you really made him feel.

He beckons you to his chambers, and you follow three steps behind him like a good pet does. You didn't expect this time to be any different than others. You've become used to serving Sukuna on days you loved him and on days you hated him. But when he tells you to close your eyes, you know something is different. You obey, of course, and listen to his footsteps as he fetches something from the room. His hand takes yours and opens it, placing a piece of wood onto your palm. You already know, but you wait for him to allow you to open your eyes. He lightly presses his thumb on your cheek under your eye, and when you look, you find a small wooden fawn, curled up and asleep in your hands.

"Master!!..", you start, but nothing else can leave your mouth. You turn the figure around in your hand, inspecting and admiring the details. He's given you gifts before, but not ones carved by his own hand. Not ones made with love.

"You don't have to squint anymore.", Sukuna says, almost jokingly. But his face is as serious as ever as he looks at you, his muse. He thinks of the first time he's exhausted you to the point of passing out right after your nightly meetings. You were relatively new and very unsure of your safety. He thinks of your small body curled up in sleep on the edge of his bed, knees pressed to your chest in a primal, subconscious attempt to protect yourself. His little pet, his fawn.

You slur on and on about how beautiful it is, how you don't know how to thank him, the usual when you receive a gift. And as usual, Sukuna shuts you up with a kiss. You welcome it and wrap your arms around his neck, giving yourself in to him and letting him take you to the bed.

And he takes things slow tonight. He's gentle and so, so giving. Every sensation is delicate, prolonged and heightened to exhaustion. You cling to him, pull him impossibly close, and come apart under the comforting weight of him. Afterwards, you hold his hand to your face and kiss it softly. His hands, so large and strong, capable of such violence, yet for you they craft gifts, cradle, caress, love... in a very subtle and distant way, of course. With these thoughts your hands slip away from his, you turn around and quickly drift off.

He looks at you now, sleeping so close to him. Trusting him with your back, and turning your curled up form to the outside world. As if he is no longer a perceived danger. He smiles to himself in victory, and plants a chaste kiss to your shoulder to wish you one final goodnight.

[uncanny-tranny]

Basically, my philosophy around disability fakers is: I would rather a thousand people fake a disability than have one disabled person suffer without care, aids, compassion, or any help.