#but its good to be safe

[xiaq]

I'm ready. Are you?

[mellosghosts]

in my heart this joke is in the movie, but unfortunately im afraid only we, hughjackmaniacs, would get it 🥀

[fauvester]

something something seeing things through different eyes

[hinamie]

can't believe im saying this but long time no megumi

[abyssal-ilk]

playing as a tabris warden and especially playing as a fem tabris warden is just a constant over and over gut punch. you're getting married but then you, your cousin, and several other women from your alienage are kidnapped during your wedding by the arl's son. you slaughter your way out of it to save your cousin and the other women, but there isn't a victory in it— you know there will be retribution for killing a palace full of guards and several nobles even though you were defending yourself and your kin. you're forced to leave your home and join the grey wardens without being given even a single night to recover. you know there will be a purge. you don't know if you'll ever see your family again.

you're taken to ostagar where you are the only woman amongst the grey wardens, and not only that, you are the only elf among them. you remember nessa, the girl in your alienage who was afraid of leaving because she feared what the soldiers would do to her after going so long without seeing a woman. your status as an elf and a woman are constantly remarked upon. you have no choice but to stay. you are fed darkspawn blood by duncan; the blood kills one man while he slaughters the other in front of you. you are supposed to feel grateful to have survived this.

and even later when you seek help from the dalish, what do you learn from zathrian? the same injustices that were inflicted upon you have been repeated over and over for centuries. what do you learn when you seek help from the mages? templars lurk in every corner, always watching, driving mages to the same violence you yourself committed. what do you learn in orzammar? to be a castless woman is to be not considered a person, who's only worth is the children she can bear for the same nobles who keep the castless subjugated. to be chosen by a noble is supposed to be an honor. why does this feel familiar?

AND THEN. what do you learn from the deep roads? darkspawn in all of their corruption are no different; you learn of the broodmothers. it is the same everywhere, no matter where you look. nothing changes. even your other party members, leliana and zevran, have their own stories. and you don't have another choice but to keep pushing on.

[yubriamakesart]

Shortly after uploading this I saw a post where someone mentioned how Mr. Qi is canonically a creepypasta character now. And like. Surely. If you've read my webcomic. You know I can't resist that.

[filibusterfrog]

MY BASIL!!!!!

[kithtaehyung]

— ✰ YES HYUNG !! ig ; twt

[tunamayojazz]

wanted to draw hjyj + i want yoojin to rest more so this was born

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[choccy-milky]

seb vs. clora's Childhood Friend™️ 😇🥰 ((from my new chap! ao3/wattpad))

[shouyuus]

but popstar!reader x vi where she leaves the biggest, darkest hickey on the side of your neck the night before a big concert, and she's convinced that you'd be trying to cover it up, but when you get on stage in your usual outfit, the neckline is popped and pulled down over your shoulders so everyone can see the bright pink lipstick mark painted on your neck.

you make a bit of it, winking at the camera, tapping it with a finger before pressing the same finger to your lips like shhh as if it's a secret btwn you and the audience. everyone goes wild for it and immediately, there's speculation of what it might mean, if it means you're actually with someone or if it's just another marketing tactic to generate buzz.

when vi comes home later that day, she finds a tube of bright pink lipsick on her side of the bed, with a note that's just a giant heart around a lipstick mark that's very clearly yours.

[loves2spwge]

a very sweet & loving stankyle kiss i commissioned from @currrsy 💙💚

[newttxt]

i was talking extensively with a friend about reiju’s delicate balance of caring/emotionless and her relationship with sanji

[lesorus]

The rise in popularity of "subversive" movies and tv shows about students seducing their teachers or women lying about getting abused, raped and groomed is really concerning to me. I don't care if "its a good story" or about the aesthetic. Who are these getting produced for and why? As soon as the narrative started shifting around the abuse of women and girls people are trying to bring back the status quo.

[supernormalblogname]

safety

(minors dni please)