#and then i wrote this and now it's 3am

[daily-sifloop]

Stargazing? ✨

Day 10: looking for your star

[marragurl]

Not the first to say it, but damn can’t believe Galladay really went from toxic yaoi to doomed tragic yaoi.

Alright fellow Galladay trash, where’s the modern AU fix-it fics?

I need to see Gallagher single dad with Misha plus their dog/cat Sleepie falling for entertainment company CEO Sunday. Don’t ask me how they met, fuck it, throw in bodyguard AU Gallagher who works part-time at a bar, boom there that’s how they meet, idk I’m making this up on 3 hours of sleep.

You’ve heard of slow burns, now get ready for Galladay blaze it.

They’re speedrunning the relationship from hate -> annoyance -> mild disgruntlement -> weirdly vibing -> ok wow never knew I needed that in my life -> Sunday is way too ok with spoiling Misha -> ok so we got married -> alright we’re dismantling the government now -> Sunday went to jail for 5 minutes for attempting “peaceful” world domination, don’t worry we (Gallagher) forgave him -> Sunday’s stepping down as CEO to run a coffeeshop idk look someone get him some therapy -> Robin is president now while she still goes on tours -> Misha won an engineering competition while this was all going on

Bottom line: Robin is out living her best life while Sunday is in the back somehow having the most insane week of his life. I have no other notes for her here except that she is happy, and successful, and is Sunday’s last remaining brain cell. She and Misha are having some fun Aunt/Nephew bonding times while Galladay are accidentally-on-purpose committing multiple war crimes.

No, we don’t have time to unpack 2.2 and all its trauma, we cope with modern AU :)

[fairy-verse]

: ̗̀➛ The Weeping Horror

➻Warning: Violence and descriptions of body horror, cannibalism, and death

You head down into the depths of Error’s Mountain Halls. It is time to mine for minerals, for gems and treasures, but little have you cared for these things. It is the fun of it all you enjoy, you, a strong, healthy winter fairy.

Pretty you are, like the snow beneath starlight. Handsome you are, like the might of a snowstorm.

Your friends call and cheer for you to hurry up, and one of them calls your name, smiling softly as their wings flutter in delight. You’ve been courting each other, only lightly, to see how interested the other is, but you are beginning to believe they really like you.

They smell wonderful.

Cold is the stone that forms the base of Error’s Mountain Domain, yet never has it bit into you like it does others. You’re made of stronger stuff, with thicker bones and sturdier shoulders. You are so tall, mighty, and perfectly built for working in these mines.

You love the mines.

This is what you were born to do, to mine for metals and minerals that the smiths of your mountain home can use for their crafts. You can make some yourself, of course, every winter fairy can, but it is not your passion. Swinging a pickaxe and seeing stones fly is what you enjoy.

Using your strength is what you love to do.

Is that what made the roof collapse? You cannot recall, the memory is hazy on the best of days, but the dust had made it difficult to see and settle down, and your wings had ached as rocks had crashed upon them, but they hadn’t torn.

The wings of one of your friends had been torn completely off, but so had their arm, and their head. They’d turned to stardust before your eyes, and you’d watched, shocked still.

Your dearly beloved had come for you, weeping with fright but also relief at seeing you alive. You’d wept too, for them, for your friend, for you all that now were trapped down here.

It would be okay. The others would learn about it soon enough.

Help would come.

The cold does not bite into the bones of a winter fairy like it does for those of summer, but hunger will forever gnaw to make its presence known, and for hours—nay, days, or has it been weeks? You cannot remember, but you know you’re hungry.

You’re so hungry.

Your friends are hungry too, and they’ve grown distant as of late. It started small, some of them paced around the small cave, some flew to stretch their wings, and even your beloved began to huddle in a corner by themselves as they mumbled incoherently.

The hunger was bad.

The loneliness was worse.

You try to sit by your friends, but they move away. They can’t look you in the face. Their own faces are so dull, so dark, with sockets appearing sunken and hollow. They look so frightened, so sad, so forgotten, so hungry.

You don’t know why they recoil from you. They are your friends, and your beloved doesn’t wish to speak. They don’t look at you at all, so you weep all alone, crouched in a corner, nothing but cold rock on all sides.

Why does the room feel like it’s shrinking?

You awake to another morning or night, you cannot tell, but your awakening is strange. You blink but all is red, and you cannot see through your right eye. Your head is throbbing and something wet is trickling down your face.

Your friends are fighting over something; something round and mushy, and one manages to put it in his mouth before he starts to chew. He looks like a ravenous animal.

You blink and your beloved stands before you, but something is wrong. You try to speak but they lift their arms and strike you with something heavy. A rock, you think, and it hurts.

It hurts.

I t   h u r t s !

Your skull is struck and something cracks, and you realise that it’d already been cracked open, and you see your friends scramble towards you, hungry; hungry.

The pain and your hunger take hold and suddenly you stand up, grasping your beloved’s neck like it’s nothing but a twig, and you don’t recognise your own hand. It looks like a monstrous claw and as you tighten it your beloved goes limp as stardust begins to fall from their bones.

This time something cracked on them.

Your friends scramble for the dusting body, and your own horror of what you’ve done grows, and grows, and grows until you can no longer think. The pain in your skull increases and your bones ache and you lunge for your friends, and they scream.

There was so much screaming, and the walls continued to shrink.

You think you hear your own screams, but your friends scream louder, and they try to run, to fly, but they cannot get out. You cannot get out.

None of you can escape the horror of the cave-in, and now, you feed.

They called you a monster when they found you, crouched as you were, huddled over a particular pile of stardust, iridescent blood glittering across your broken skull, your face, your hands, your claws.

You nearly killed them all in your attempt to escape the mountain halls.

The rock is still moving closer, trying to trap you again.

You cannot breathe and you groan and roar horrific sounds as knights and warriors hold you down. So many had to hold you down, but it was the sight of Error which made you stop moving, pitiful whines and cries were the only thing you could allow to escape.

And he looked upon you with horror.

What monstrosity had taken place within his domain; what horror had grown from a fairy once so fair?

You wept, for yourself, for your friends, or for the love you’ve lost you cannot say, but you wept and begged for death. You begged your firstborn to release you from the horrors of your own mind, but your wish was not granted.

You needed to be punished for what you’ve done, and death was mercy, but Error took pity upon you; weeping as you were. And so, he said, “My mountain halls shall no longer be your home, but instead I grant you a lifelong service besides their shadows, though beneath the open sky, you shall stay, and there you will guard my kingdom against the wretched big folk; until your death.”

A terrible fate most will say, for what winter fairy lived outside Error’s Mountain Halls. None, save for those who’ve sworn their service to remain out of bounds, ever watchful of hunters who wish them and their kin harm. However, you thought it was both a mercy and a promise of eternal torture.

Mercy, for no longer would you be surrounded by rock, and never more shall you mine in caves for minerals, metals, and precious gems. Torture, for the screams of your friends remained in your mind, and the taste of their bones, their wings yet remained upon your tongue.

What's more, your injuries had left you permanently changed. You’ve grown taller, sturdier, and more dangerous, but your mind is shattered and only a few pieces remain. It is difficult to remember your past, your family…

You remember the screams of your friends, but not their faces, only the taste of them as you fed on their dusting bodies.

You remember the stardust of your lost love, but not their voice, their touch.

…

You cannot remember your name, but a horror of Error’s Mountain Halls you’ve become, and so, Horror shall be your new name.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Horror's theme: Willow's End - Gareth Coker

[too0bsessedformyowngood]

Sorta a continuation of this post.

I’ve been thinking more about reverse robins AU with Duke as the Dick/Nightwing parallel, and I have some ideas.

So like, Duke came first. He was the light to Batman’s darkness. I don’t know if he would start off with Signal or another mantle and become Signal later on, but he definitely had the bright colors from the start. Batman might be the Dark Knight but Duke was Gotham’s (K)night Light. Batman fought what hid in the shadows but Signal chased the shadows away, provided a guiding light home. He was the Sunshine when the never ending grey clouds got too thick. He was Gothams hope and inspiration for a brighter future.

But don’t forget he was also a menace. I don’t think it would go down exactly like it did in the comics, it was the early years for Batman-and for the villains as well. After Duke’s parents were gone (maybe by Joker still turning them mad with Joker gas in Joker earliest year, maybe year one for him or something else) he started planning. He started working harder in school, focusing on the sciences to one day make a cure but also would go out looking for his parents, like in canon. He would stumble into things way bigger, overhearing plots from villains and mafias and decided to become an inconvenience for them. Letting the airs out of tires when no one was watching, a fire alarm pulled right before an attack, door stoppers on the outside of each door to a warehouse trapping the villains who where planning inside. A sudden strong of bad luck befalling the main terrors of Gotham. It didn’t go unnoticed, especially by Batman. Duke kept his streak of being unseen until one night he crossed paths with the Bat.

Bruce for his part would have know about the little boy who lost his parents in the attack, and it would have also brought up some memories for him as well. He would have kept a small track of him, but noticed he was in foster care so didn’t do much until one day he came across the reason behind all the karma the villain have be having. Looking into the boys eyes and seeing the same fire that he had, blazing more fierce as Duke explains how he will find his parents and save them, and if he could prevent more bad things along the way he will. Something pinging in Bruce’s soul, this kid lost his parents like he did but not fully, and he still had hope among the need for justice, something that had faded so long ago for himself. He took Duke back that day, promising that he will find Duke’s parents, and kept a closer eye on him after the fact.

Duke noticed that after that day it became like clockwork, he would sneak out, search Gotham, cause a little chaos, get caught by the Bat and brought back to his current foster home. Bruce did some digging, looked for Dukes parents but also found out that Leslie Thompkins was the person in charge of Duke’s case. After a few weeks of the new schedule he met up with Dr. Thompkins. They talked about how Duke has been bounced around from home to home and sneaking out to find his parents almost every night. After a long conversation, and not as much convincing as one would expect, Duke found himself being driven to his next foster home, Wayne Manor.

Okay I’m going to leave this here for now. I ended up writing so much more than I though I would lmao. I have more ideas and will probably continue this soon.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Both my parents actually suffer from HORRID emotional dysregulation and are prone to snapping and going into rages. My sister is the same way tbh. I am now realizing this is why they are constantly baffled by the question of whether or not I am mad at them.

I don't have external meltdowns.

I could. I don't let it happen.

I keep my rage on the inside and stay pretty quiet about it. It's just as strong as theirs [physically shaking nose bleed from high blood pressure kind of bad], but like as a kid I saw how terrifying it was to be around [dad breaking dishes, mom putting our lawn chairs into walls] and I just internalized that I wasn't going to wear that anger on the outside.

So my mother genuinely cannot tell if I am just being quiet or if I am silently hearing the dial-up noises of pure rage. This has lead her to both making strong and confident statements like "You are a pacifist who would never hurt a fly U.U" but also acting like I am secretly dangerous maybe... It's because she has never seen me snap.

She knows what her temper is like [throwing chairs through walls], she knows what my father's temper is like [pick up child and toss out door], and she can tell I am being tested, but she doesn't know what happens when I snap or where that breaking point is.

Her -perhaps unhinged- solution to this, my whole life, has been to do things that should obviously enrage me or shut me down completely, like ignoring important boundaries, repeatedly, punishing me for expressing emotions or needs at all, etc... And then to constantly ask me if I am angry with her when I get too quiet [right after near directly telling me to shut up].

It has occurred to me now, they have never once seen me lose my temper, so they literally just can't tell if I am angry at them. My sister is easy, my mother fights and screams with my sister constantly, my mother understands this. My mother doesn't have any grasp of feelings or boundaries that are not screamed at her [apparently, and I fear my sister is the same way]. Her and my sister are close despite constant fucking fighting because they understand each other.

They are trying to get me to engage the same way and it is not working. I realize now that this has been hard for them.

I was so successfully taught to suppress my emotions, by being punished for any outburst, that rage quiet looks the same as any other kind of quiet from the outside. To them anyway.

I did tell her. For the record. I used my words. I did tell her very calmly that my response to rage, in order to avoid doing the things that terrified me as a child, was to simply leave [the autistic urge to GTFO]. When a situation or person causes too much of the dial-up rage noise, I simply extract myself from that situation, up to and including never speaking to a person again. I explained this calmly. I explained it calmly 100 times and I explained that I explain myself calmly as my rage response 1-5 [also pretty much every other negative emotion tbh], and I told her that what came next was me simply opting out and fucking off. I told her this. I couldn't understand why she never took me seriously, or why she never fucking understood.

I couldn't understand what made her like this.

But it's the same problem I have with everyone else multiplied by a factor of 10.

If I am explaining myself calmly, they can't understand that it's actually serious or that I am actually upset. ESPECIALLY because they read me as "female" and women "aren't that rational" so if I am not screaming and crying about something, which I never do, people assume I can't be upset and it isn't serious.

And then after having my boundaries ignored too many times despite having calmly explained how and why it's a problem [shaking inside or not]... I leave. I leave and everyone gets upset like this is unexpected behaviour, even though I told them 50 times that is how I would respond if they kept doing *the thing.*

And for neurotypical people especially, they are expecting there to be a disconnect between what someone says they need or feel and what their actually boundaries and feelings are, and they expect the latter to be demonstrated with emotions. Telling them bluntly you do not function that way somehow never helps?

My mother isn't just looking for normal yelling or a few tears to know I am serious, whether or not I do those either [I don't], she's looking for an explosion to know there's a problem at all.

Fucked if I know how she proceeds through life this way in general or if this is just her expectation of her own kids???

And I couldn't get why my mother couldn't read my emotions and didn't seem to think I have any. It's because she's testing for the rage limit to see where my 'actual' limit is instead of taking my word for it. Never the fuck mind that she could simply *not* test at my boundaries instead of letting me have them. Separate issue.

I couldn't figure out what made her *like this*

She's expecting me to throw a giant meltdown violent tantrum at people when I have 'actually' had enough. Maybe she got away with those being like 5'4" in another time, but I am the size of the average man, I do not get to have giant screaming rages, whether or not people perceive me consciously as a woman, and least of all because a lot of people -at least unconsciously- read me as 'masculine' or at least always "they guy" of the situation compared to all other women and some men [bigger stronger and more rational, more able to just absorb the damage and let it go so the less rational screaming/crying one doesn't have to be dealt with]. Even if it was in me to be willing to terrify people [usually never], there are such limited instances where it wouldn't just blow back on me. Potentially very dangerously.

I am going to be the quiet calm one. You are going to have to let me use my words, bitch.

So she kept ignoring my boundaries until I had to cut her out of my life, and she probably doesn't understand and probably thinks it feels sudden -after 36 long years of bullshit- abrupt and unfair.

But I told her hundreds of times.

I probably should have just screamed at her.

[thefunksp]

And All Those Nights, Down By The River

a travis kelce x gn!reader fic.

w: pretty much just saccharine.

There was always something that tied him to you, or you to him. You never really believed in fate but slowly it became your guiding light somehow. Both of you have been friends for a long time, since you were kids specifically. You practically grew up with the guy, and yet you're still confused and at war with yourself constantly. He's an NFL Player and has dated many women before, it's practically rolling a seven using a six-die and oh did I mention that one of the most famous people and him are allegedly dating?

Yet here you are, at the side of the river. Feelings of peaceful tranquility replace the everyday shattering of it. Vague recollections of memories play like scenes in a movie of you, Travis, Jason and Shawn playing, laughing and unaware of the future ahead of all of you and unaware of your blooming feelings for one of them.

You were abruptly interrupted by said man's footsteps behind you, slowly growing until it reached an end. A shout right after. "Hey ---! Found you! You really don't like people do you?" His voice almost booming as he catches up to you. "Travis, we've been friends for a long long time. I think you already know that."

He chuckles at your remark, god you loved hearing that. "Yeah yeah, I get it. Still I think you'd enjoy being at the party too you know." He smiles and you smile back, stopping as he looks back at you. "This was one of our favorite spots when we were kids right?" He nods. "You know I come by here a lot, something nostalgic always keeps luring me to come back here all the time." His face changes, he was listening. Your heart was beating at an alarming rate as you say each word more emotionally after the other.

"You know Travis, I think that this is the right time to tell you that. That." Travis came closer, almost at arms length. "That what? You're in love with me?" You look at him quickly, his face didn't change like you expected, he didn't chuckle or laugh, he was completely serious. You look down at the rocks as the river's current began ringing in your ears somewhat. "Yeah, I'm in love with you. With you, Travis Kelce."

You expected the hurt, the needles that will pierce your heart and make you bleed, the words that can split a man's body in half. Instead, you were given an arm in your shoulder and a hug. "Yeah, I love you too." The butterflies in your heart were released and it felt ethereal. You hug him back as water pricked your eyes. "I've loved you since we were kids, and i-i just didn't want it to hurt more." He hugged you even harder and chuckled.

"It's ok, you can let it all out." Both of you finally let go after what seemed like forever. "How did you know?" He laughed a bit as he scratched the back of his head. "I mean, it's not really much of a secret to be honest." He shrugged a bit. "And to be honest, I was kinda having feelings for you when we really started to feel more intimate with each other." You nodded with a red flush on your cheeks.

"But." He held your face in his big hands. "I really do think I love you." He pressed his lips to your forehead. The currents of the river became somewhat of an orchestra to all of this, as you laid your hands to his face too.

[humanmorph]

a parting gift (millie & leap sometime during ep 28)

[rowanisawriter]

having a cute idea of zagreus carrying love notes and kisses between achilles and patroclus while they’re still separated, very cute, very fluffye 🥰

what i wrote in the middle of the night when i thought god wasn’t watching

[hamartia-grander]

Starting to slowly realise I'm really not doing well mentally and it's. concerning. I feel like I should take a break from tumblr bc it takes some of what little energy I have but it's also my source of joy with friends so idk what to do, like I'd miss y'all more than I'd feel good about being away. But if you notice me talking less/not responding in days it's bc I just cannot. I leave your message notifs up so I don't forget tho <3

[twcfaces]

Since we're on the subject of Harvey being biracial, I think his pops really hated that.

Actual mentions of real-world prejudice, abuse, etc below! Please do not trip over this line if these things are triggering for you.

I feel like the elephant in the room is

>'but his wife was black'

Racism doesn't actually preclude a person from pursuing a relationship outside their race. But that is dissertation paper material and not fictional character blog material. Do not @ me for a dissertation or I will literally find one for you.

>But Halekulani why discuss real life nastiness when you're writing fiction?

Because I motherfucking w a n t to.

Anyway, Harv's dad would use any and all excuses to smack his son across the floor and then make an effort to 'make it up' to him before doing it again the next night and he would definitely dip into the 'you're [insert offensive hateful stereotypical shit here] because you have your mother's blood in you, etc.'

so, literally punishing him for something not under his control and something that isn't in any way a bad thing - but Harvey can never be 'normal' or acceptable to pops because he's not, y'know - white.

Harvey's father made him feel like he was split all the way down to his DNA, like there was something inherently wrong with who he was that he continuously had to make up for.

And there isn't. There is nothing - absolutely NOTHING - inherently wrong with him, or his mother, or his identity.

He gets that now, as an adult, that his father was just a fucking nasty, horrible, alcoholic, abusive, prejudiced, controlling asshole that needed to lord his authority over anyone that trusted him and anyone he thought he could bully.

But damn, sometimes it still hits. He wonders if he's speaking 'right' or if it's 'too much'. He wonders if his clothes are too reserved or too 'try-hard'.

And it sucks.

Yes, I just read GCPD : The Blue Wall. Why do you ask? [shaking, crying]

[anurarana]

My frustration with Jason Peter Todd is that there is a universe out there where he was given a decades-long character arc; one where he could learn from his mistakes, and make amends where necessary, all the while still acknowledging the pain both caused by himself, his actions, his decisions, as well as the flipside, the harm he has personally lived through intentional or not.

This is a character that will always have his motives and ideology shaped by the trauma he lived through and died for, but the way it feels like current comics interact with that trauma is just one big bad event that everyone else has gotten over and yet he is never allowed to move on from. All he is ever allowed to be is the self-proclaimed black sheep, the one who died, but he's not able to deconstruct what all that meant for him, his morals and foundational beliefs as a character, because we had to shove it all aside way to quickly to make room for big happy bat family.

His entire existence feels like it is there to either serve as a punchline or surface level angst when needed. No one knows what to do with Jason anymore because they never gave him the space for real character growth when it was necessary.

I feel like I'm always like haha yeah Jason Todd, I wish he was worse. I wish he was in more pain. I wish he was alone, and he hated everyone again and vise versa. But it's more that I find his personal morals and ethics fascinating, I just wish they were properly fleshed out and given the time and consideration to evolve and expand along with his growth as a person. I want him to be wrong. I want him to fuck up, and fuck up again. His passion is what makes him interesting!!

I also want him to learn and grow into his skin without throwing away everything he stands for. That he could actually become a solid argument to the status quo that mainline comics can find themselves falling into, one that you get the sense he was originally brought back to be. But instead, he's the angry one that is insane and kills people, or swing way too hard in the opposite end, and all of his claws have been filed off— he's just a sad boy with no real poignant internal dilemmas anymore.

Idk, maybe I like the idea of a guy being able to heal over time. Maybe the idea that you are doomed to relive the mistakes of the past forever is exhausting. But what we have right now is so boring and lame that I'm out here advocating for them to just kill him off again.

[marshmallowwitharubberband]

If MDZS characters were vegetables:

Wei Wuxian would be a carrot, idk, he gives carrot vibes.

Jiang Cheng would be an eggplant, of course.

Lan Zhan - cilantro, Lan Xichen- parsley. It's funny! 'Cause they look so similar! Hahaha...I need sleep.

Nie Huaisang would be a gourd, so of course Mingjue would be a pumpkin.

Jin Guangyao - Brussels sprout. Sounds about right.

Jin Zixuan would be, like, romaine lettuce. All fancy n sht.

Shijie would be a cute red cabbage.

Jin Ling would be a yellow bell pepper? idk.

The Wen siblings would be like, a turnip and a daikon?

Sizhui is, of course, a radish.

I'll be taking no questions.

[andy-888]

The way I just know that female presenting Aziraphale has been the inspiration for so many artists and myths through history like she was their literal muse during Renaissance. She CREATED beauty standards. She was EVERYBODY'S standard.

Now i imagine Crowley and Aziraphale going to art museums and seeing like The Birth of Venus and the such and Aziraphale being like "that 💅 that is actually based on me ☝️😌✨️" and Crowley being like "I knew vanity was a common disease between angels, but never I thought it was yours too" and Aziraphale just like "is not vanity if it's true. It's a fact☝️😌". I think Crowley inspired others too but more in the Pre-Raphaelite era

Btw all those paintings? Fake. Crowley stole the real ones.

[consumed-by-fandom]

MY ARGUMENT FOR WHY LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO BY TAYLOR SWIFT FITS OSWALD COBBLEPOT A LITTLE TOO WELL

So people seemed quite interested in my thoughts on this sooo here ya go! :p

Spoilers for Gotham (2014) obvs

For context the song fits with Oswald’s Season 3 Arc, where he becomes mayor of Gotham and is taken down and killed by Edward after Oswald kills Ed’s ‘weird ass totally-a-clone-of-his-dead-ex’ girlfriend, Isabella. Oswald survives because of course he does, and plots his revenge against Ed for the rest of the season. AND HE FUCKING GETS IT BECAUSE HES OSWALD FUCKING COBBLEPOT

Anyway lets get into the lyrics shall we?

First off, Riddler is known for his games and puzzles, and in particular his whole revenge plan might have been seen as a game to both of them, with Ed seeing it as a strategic game to destroy Oswald, and Oswald seeing it as a childish game played unfairly to Ed’s own agenda. The tilted stage also ties to Riddler’s showmanship and love of being in the spotlight, as well as how, to Oswald’s perspective, he’s putting himself up on a pedestal while criticising Oswald despite everything Oswald has done for him (I think Oswald definitely saw Isabella’s murder as an act of kindness or love, the latter might be canon too?) Oswald being forced to play the fool is pretty self-explanatory, he was thrown through the rings of Ed’s deception and tests none the wiser to Ed being the culprit.

I think even Oswald would have to admit that Ed outplayed him, using everything he knew about Oswald, all his weaknesses and vulnerabilities, to completely ruin his life and prove a point (even if that point got disproven because he accidentally proved Oswald WAS capable of real love lmao) And how Oswald, as paranoid and wary as he is, still did not believe for a second that Ed would betray him. (This is unrelated but Oswald’s trust issues is so sad to see because as the show goes on he gets increasingly more distrustful of others and by season 5 it doesn’t take much for him to go “YOUVE BETRAYED ME I FUCKING KNEW IT” poor lad). Anyway Ed is a pro at shit eating grins, and has no qualms lying to others, something I think hurts Oswald even more because he always believed that they’d be honest with one another (even though he went behind Ed’s back… hes a bit of a hypocrite guys) But Ed is also one to gloat and mock, perhaps even more than Oswald, and he definitely rubs it in Oswald’s face when he reveals that it was his plan all along, that he was behind everything. Stretching a bit with the gun here but I like to think that Oswald believed they were always on the same page, that Oswald would always call the shots so to speak, that he was the one in control. Ironically it was the shot that Oswald took that pushed Ed to take a shot of his own (i am NOT sorry for the wordplay >:] )

Speaking of wordplay. “Isn’t cool” Ahahah. Get it. Cuz. Cuz ed gets… anyway.

What does Oswald Cobblepot do best when wronged? Plan an elaborate revenge scheme of course! He learns from his mistakes, learns more about who Edward is as a person, and also learns not to let love weaken him :,). His revenge against him does what Ed initially did to him - use his flaws and characteristics to his advantage. And Oswald PLAYS HIM LIKE A FIDDLE by practically leading him to his doom, right until the reveal by the pier. Him escaping death is also surprisingly common for him, surviving from the pier not once, but TWICE by this point in the show. Not to mention all the other murder attempts on his life. The list of names would relate to Oswald’s growing enemies, his revenge hitlist so to speak, with Ed being at the very top for obvious reasons.

I think Oswald would definitely blame other people for his behaviour. Like “you made me this way, you provoked me, you forced my hand.” No dude you just love murder and vengeance get over urself. I MEAN he probably knows he’s ‘just like that’ but he’d still blame people anyway lmao.

When Ed got shipped to Arkham for girlfriend strangling and cop killing Oswald eventually got him out so he could be by his side as he campaigned for mayor of gotham, and he was pretty dedicated to being there for Ed as Ed was for him, even including him in paintings and promoting him to chief of staff. He loved him so much, and would do anything for him (even if it meant doing what he thought was for his benefit. Like killing girlfriends.) So naturally Ed ruining his life and then going off and making a name for himself as the Riddler would absolutely piss Oswald off, because to Oswald he had been so generous and a good friend/potential life partner, and this was the thanks he gets? I could also see Riddler’s rise to prominence as something Oswald would be jealous of, because thats his crime spotlight he’s stealing dammit!

Also. Also Ed stole the keys to his heart ahahahAGUGHUGHUHGAHGHH

Gotham is full of drama all day everyday 24/7, I have to imagine even Oswald gets sick of it after a while lol. Anyway he’s very good at losing himself to his own plans and thoughts driven by his emotions, pushing the rest of the world aside so he can solely focus on his revenge. He never forgets a grudge, he always gets what’s “deserved” to him (and he’s actually really good at getting revenge too, using Ed’s eventual sentence as an example). Ironically that also fits with how Oswald got his punishment for Isabella’s death, but now he’s paid the price, its Ed’s turn (and anyone else who Oswald had a vendetta against at the time. Which was probably a lot of people idk Oswald makes a lot of enemies in the show)

Again, Oswald has MAJOR trust issues and this paranoid only grows as the show goes on and more people betray or leave him. He’s also pretty sly himself, and if his plans include completely screwing you over for whatever reason, you better bet he’s going to do it.

As for the latter lyric…

Do i even need to explain this one?

There isn’t much I can link for this it just seems like something Oswald would say lmao

Aaaaaand thats all! I didn’t go over repeating choruses for obvious reasons, but that’s my own brainrot explanation for why this song fits him soooo well. Now if you’ll excuse me i’m going to daydream about the animation that would go to this that I’ll probably never do.

[felixxthefrog]

i used to wonder what it was like on the other side

all they spoke of was hell

fire, brimstone, pain

darkness

loneliness

that is what they told me of the other pastures

what they showed me

as they lectured lifeless from the pulpit

if i'd known what the other side really looked like

i might've left sooner

(i wish i would have known)

sleepy sunday mornings

under the softest blankets

drinking in the honey sun that streams through the blinds

staying home and just existing

(do you think they know what it's like?)

a dim room filled with friends

floating two inches off the ground once the gin burn fades

stifled giggles and giddy conversations

swaying to the music

all of us together, no longer alone

(this is my sanctuary)

what it is to sing with no purpose, with only love for myself

screaming the lyrics i once hid from my parents

broken harmonies

mending souls, hearts, minds

not worrying about closed eyes and raised hands

just headphones in the kitchen

and the taste of her cherry chapstick

(this is my worship)

the pleasure of food

the pleasure of self

the pleasure of sleeping in the same bed

warm bodies tangled together, pressed against each other, desperate

in a wordless understanding of comfort and care

(this is what saves me)

what it's like to live without the pressures of hemlines

and necklines

and sleeves

without wondering if it's bad how much you touch

or how pretty her lips are from across the room

not caring if they see you at that place they deemed demonic

or if they see you gazing longingly when she shows off her new dress

(i'm not afraid anymore)

not of lips

and stomachs

and noses bumping together

and fluttering breath

her nails digging into my back

her drunken kisses sobered me

(this is what heaven is like)

not to listen to a booming voice from the heavens

nor from the stage

only the quiet ones in my heart

and the kind ones around me

(i wish god had sounded like this)

the butterflies at hearing those words that feel true

to who and what i am

the labels, but not the bad ones

not the guilt trips, just the words i chose to depict my truest self

the words i chose to show my colors in all their beauty

the way i want them

the people that i chose

not out of obligation

but the ones who love me, the ones who truly care

(they are my congregation)

being guiltless and reckless

and full of questions

but not the ones that make me worry

the weightless freedom of insignificance

and indifference

and not being scared.

-what they didn't tell me about the other side

[thelastwalkingsoul]

steddie mianite au - part 1

Sunrise has always felt like the calm before the storm to Eddie. Sure, there were the monsters, but most tended to slink back to caves and anywhere dark before the sun rose. Being up at sunrise meant that there was a high chance that none of the other inhabitants of the island would be awake. It was just Eddie and the sky.

Every morning, just as the sky was lightening, Eddie walks the same loop. From his house on the east side of the island, Eddie walks half of the perimeter of the south side and cuts back across from the west when he’s finished. He’s out for said morning walk, shoes in hand and enjoying the feeling of sand between his toes when he sees a figure lying on the beach. Worried for a moment, (though he’d furiously deny it), that it’s one of the girls, he rushes forward.

It’s not either of the girls, not even close. Lying on his stomach on the sand, face sideways in the opposite direction to Eddie is a man. A stranger, perhaps? He pokes the guy in the back with his bare foot. 

Nothing.

Sighing, Eddie puts his shoes down and kneels on the sand because despite what the others say, he cares about people, damn it! He reaches over the prone body and rolls him over by the shoulder. The man’s head flops in Eddie’s direction, allowing him to see the guy’s face. Eddie takes a sharp breath in.

The man is gorgeous. Eddie’s sure he’s a stranger now cause he would have remembered that face. His hair, while stiff from the salt, flops over his forehead and frames his perfect face. He has a spattering of freckles on his face which continue down to his neck. Eddie briefly wonders how far they continue before mentally smacking himself. If this stranger is in the same boat as the rest of them, Eddie refuses to leave him alone. No one deserves to wake up alone in a place they didn’t recognise. Not like Eddie.

So he gets to work, struggling as he drags the stranger up the beach and onto some grass in the shade of a tree. He checks that the man is breathing and presses a finger to his wrist to feel his pulse. It’s there, beating steadily. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, checking he still had his water flask in his belt, knowing the man would want a drink when he wakes. He places his palm on the guy’s forehead, ensuring he isn’t burning up. 

Satisfied that he’s checked all he can, Eddie carefully lifts the stranger’s head up, shifting underneath and crossing his legs, laying the man’s head in his lap. Eddie leans back against the tree trunk, his hands finding the stranger's hair. It’s salty and full of sand as he observed before, dried in stiff peaks. Eddie smooths it out of his face before continuing to run with his fingers through it. He isn’t sure how long he sits there, admiring the stranger’s face while periodically checking his pulse. Eddie’s watching the waves roll in when he feels some movement beneath him. Looking down, he sees the man blinking up at him, eyes squinted against the sun. “Morning, sweetheart.”

The man blinks once more. “Hi,” he croaks out. He’s suddenly hit with a coughing fit. Eddie gently pushes him upright, rubbing his back until the coughs subside. The stranger’s head falls back into Eddie’s lap, who valiantly fights back a blush. Eddie shakes his head, remembering the water flask he’d put away earlier. He opens the top and brings it to the man’s lips, tilting his head up as he drinks. The water must do its job to soothe the stranger’s throat because he pulls back, head going back into Eddie’s lap, and thanks Eddie softly.

Eddie fails not to blush this time. The man’s voice was hot. God, why did it have to be hot? Eddie was already struggling to keep thinking normal thoughts and hearing his voice properly for the first time was not helping.

Oblivious to Eddie’s internal panic, the stranger clears his throat, bringing Eddie back to the problem at hand. He’s still worried that this man is like the rest of them, washed up with no memory of their past. So he decides to test it. “What’s your name?”

He’s quiet for a second. “Steve. It’s Steve.”

Eddie smiles down at him, fingers tingling as the guy, Steve, speaks. “Hi there, Steve.” Everyone else knew their names when they woke, Eddie included. He digs deeper. “How’d you get here?”

This seems to stump Steve, his brow furrowing as he thinks. Eddie expected this. He hadn’t been able to answer that. Still can’t. 

Eddie lets Steve think for a little longer, stroking a thumb across Steve’s forehead when the silence stretches on for too long. “It’s ok, you don’t need to answer,” Eddie assures. He goes back to stroking Steve’s hair as the man beneath him hums.

Steve’s eyes slip shut as they sit in silence; the sounds of the early morning birds and the waves breaking on the shore surround them. Eddie’s surprised Steve trusts him. He’s essentially being held in the arms of a stranger. Eddie’s enjoying every moment, so he keeps quiet. It’s Steve who breaks the silence, asking for Eddie’s name. 

“Eddie,” he says with a smile, thumb now stroking Steve’s cheek. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Steve’s eyes flutter open, staring directly into Eddie’s. “Thirsty. And hungry too.”

“I think we can fix that. Anything else?”

“My head hurts,” Steve admits.

“Well,” Eddie says sweetly. “I promise to try and fix that too.”