#but they could not bring that i guess

[vaguely-concerned]

the strength it must have taken for illario to not immediately go full 'lmao since when have you even had a kiss hello lucanis' sibling violence mode during the café talk. inspirational. rook and lucanis really were doing all that right in front of his salad huh

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

As per usual, it’s DP crossover with (probably) DC, although you could probably adjust it for other fandoms

ANYWAYS

A little kid and his mother are trick or treating in another city, perhaps at some kind of event rather than knocking on doors, and the kid is dressed as Phantom. It’s very adorable, with his little ghost-shaped bucket and clearly homemade and already stained costume—listen, white only works if you can just fly over street grime or phase it out of your clothes—and his slightly I’ll fitting wig. The kid is SO happy to be out and about dressed as his favorite, and maybe even showed it off to Phantom back in Amity Park before his family left.

The hero, insert whoever you wish here, is probably in civvies and just enjoying the event. The kid, meanwhile, is so glad when people ask who he is so he can explain, and so- the hero gets to hear ALL ABOUT the local town hero who is probably pretty small time despite the kid’s clearly exaggerated stories. The hero certainly never heard of him, but the kid’s mom confirms that Phantom really was the town hero, despite some mixed reviews of the poor guy.

“Did you manage to show him your costume?” the hero asks.

“Yeah! We went down to the cemetery to leave flowers and I got to show him my costume.”

Wait. Cemetery? Maybe it was part of theme, because Phantom had to be named that for a reason, but… it sounded like…

The kid ignores the suddenly VERY still hero and instead turns to his mom. “Momma, do you think we should bring him candy? He doesn’t get to trick or treat like we do, and I can work super hard to get him a bunch!”

The kid’s mom just smiles. “We could, but maybe we should bring him something homemade. I bet he’d like something more filling, teen boys like him have a hollow leg.”

The kid wrinkles his nose. “Like Vernie with the pizza bagels?”

“Like your cousin, yes. We can make some cinnamon rolls and take them to his memorial, maybe bring some of the apples from your grandpa’s garden…”

The hero is pretty much forgotten as the two-part family wanders off, not quite intentionally forgetting the hero is there so much as the hero somewhat accidentally ended the conversation when they just froze and didn’t ask anything further.

Not that the hero didn’t want to. But they’d learn something very serious.

One—there was a small town hero they’d never heard of. Two—that hero was apparently a teen. Third—most pressingly, the teen hero was both beloved enough to have kids dressing up as him and dead enough to have a grave.

This… might require some phone calls.

[darqx]

Bought the most expensive Pencil™ of my life to test out drawing on an iPad whilst I was on hols

[georgeharrisonsmiling]

While my guitar gently weeps.

[hiddensneker]

Does anyone else fw the idea that Kai has never cried before and probably never will

[gomzdrawfr]

"Don't cry."

Simon said this whenever he knew you were about to cry, eyes glossy and watery, lips trembling.

trigger warnings: angst, childhood abuse (referenced + mentioned), canon-typical violence (referenced)

notes: this is an x reader fic, also apologies for the grammar and errors if any

read more to continue this short drabble

“Don’t cry.”

His voice was hollow, rough, forced out before the words had a chance to settle.

Simon said this whenever he knew you were about to cry, eyes glossy and watery, lips trembling.

It wasn’t gentle, nor a plea. It wasn’t meant for comfort or to keep you from falling apart. It was rough, low, and scratched at your ears in a way that made it hard to bear.

It felt more like an order, one you weren’t sure was meant for you or for himself.

“Just… don’t.” He repeated, the words more for himself than for you. Something swirled in his eyes behind the mask, a faint glint catching the light, like shattered glass.

“Simon,” you whispered, voice cracking, but he cut you off with a sharp edge, ending the conversation before it even began.

You thought it was because of the life he led—the danger and discipline that flowed through his blood. You thought he was telling you not to cry because he needed you to be strong. After all, he was a soldier—a man who had seen more violence, death, and despair than you could ever imagine. You assumed he couldn’t stand to see weakness, the vulnerability that came with it.

But there was more.

There was always more with him.

You didn’t know what those words really meant to him, how deep they ran, how they had been carved into his very bones, how they play on repeat in his head like a broken cassette tape on those colder nights.

You didn’t know that those two words were all he had ever heard growing up, the only comfort he could muster when his mum sobbed after another bad night, when Tommy curled up in the corner of the kitchen, scared and bruised, whispering into the dark.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

He had felt helpless as a boy, kneeling before his family, wanting more than anything to do something—anything—but lacking the strength or power to act. He couldn’t make the pain go away. He couldn’t make the tears disappear.

Hearing those heart-wrenching sobs, those sniffles, those whimpers—it made him feel like that little boy again: lost, powerless, useless.

But the tears always came, and they never fixed anything. Crying didn’t make the bruises disappear. It didn’t quiet the screams. It didn’t make the shouting stop. All it did was twist his stomach inside out, wring his heart until he didn’t even recognize it anymore, and made his breathing all the more suffocating, like he was drowning in someone else’s grief.

It made him feel small.

Seeing those same tears in your eyes brought him back to that place. And he didn’t know how to deal with it. How to make it better.

He hated it. He hated feeling like that small boy again, hopeless, like he was failing all over.

Because Simon loves you, he truly does, more than himself, and yet he can’t bring himself to face you in these moments. 

Turning his back away from you, his head dipped lower, as if he were willing himself out of the memory that bubbled up, out of the pain that no amount of time or distance could dull.

Tears didn’t fix the past. They didn’t heal the scars that had been left on his soul.

“Simon-”

“Don’t cry… please.”

When he turned away, when he avoided your tears, when he grew distant whenever you broke down in front of him—it wasn’t because he didn’t care.

He just didn’t know how to handle it.

[thatfaerieprincess]

WATCHED C3e99 DOWNFALL PART 1 AND UHHH I HAVENT DRAWN FAN ART IN YEARS BUT THE MUSE REALLY SPOKE TO ME THIS TIME

Step 2 figure out how the Emissary actually looks

[theoppositeofprofound]

Briefly enraptured by an AU where the only thing needed for elven marriage is eye contact. That’s it, just eye contact between two people who mutually, absolutely want to get married. Melian and Thingol really were gone from first sight. Finwë and Indis’ remarriage was an issue because it’s a small continent and there’s a decent chance they’d accidentally elope. Aredhel and Eöl, who didn’t have any half measure in them, got screwed over by the cosmic happenstance of thinking “would” simultaneously. Elrond and Celebrían on their third meeting, both a tiny bit precognizant, already predisposed to know their fate, catching each other’s eyes over a dinner table and agreeing to let fate win. Lúthien looking Celegorm in the face as defiance—he can see her all he wants but she’s already realized his worth. Andreth, whose people had dealings with elves, staring into Aegnor’s eyes and begging him to flinch.

Of course this quickly devolved into thoughts of elven chastity veils, and blindfolds, and mirrored sunglasses, and stupid little horse blinders. The eyes of the Eldar in battle are notable because otherwise they have these weird googles on the rest of the time. The debate about whether widows and divorcees need to take precautionary measures, now that they’ve invented widowhood and divorce. The social mores. The controversy. The songs. The eye contact averse humans who think that it rocks that elves won’t look at them. I cannot stress this enough, the very ridiculous, frankly counterproductive little glasses.

[jasperthejester]

me: finally accepting theres a good chance im autistic and starting to work up the courage to ask my parents to see if i could get a diagnoses but being scared to

my mom: do you ever think you have adhd? if you want to do a screening for add next time your at the doctors you can

me:

[redfirefox-55]

You guys think Yi has chronic pain? (Due to the explosion accident, or his jade system or something?)

That’s why he can brush off getting hurt pretty easy because he built up a good pain tolerance, and why he self medicates often?

[luck-of-the-drawings]

so REVENGE, HUH? or justice, if that makes you feel better. it tastes the same when cooked just right. 'I REALLY WANTED A BROTHER.' such a shame to burn a bridge you so desperately wanted to keep, especially when it wasnt even you who started the fire. especially when you hope that not a single fragment of that bridge ever washes ashore.[MAY IT ROT FAR FROM MY SIGHTS] an unfortunate loss! atleast he has his friends.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Abandoned nests didn’t happen nearly as much nowadays, what with the new preservation regulations, so naturally June had sat in front of the incubator all night. She wasn’t even aware it was no longer night until Seth arrived.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Have you slept at all?”

“I don’t want it to hatch all alone!” June protested, rubbing her eyes. She ducked her head to peek through the glass door of the incubator. The glittering purple egg sat unmoving under the dim light. “Not that anything happened,” she yawned. “I bet it was waiting for you.”

Seth made an amused, but deeply sceptical noise in reply. “Have you eaten at all?” he pivoted back to her generally inadvisable life choices.

“You found it,” June evaded with an accusatory wag of her finger. “You wait and see, it waited to hatch until you were here.”

“That isn’t a thing,” he argued, making his way to the little kitchenette.

“You see if it isn’t a thing!” June looked at the egg again. It didn’t have any identifiable markers on it so there was no telling what might hatch out of it. But it must be a sizeable dragon. The egg was as big as a fresh coconut.

Seth sat down beside her and silently held a bowl out to her, with his eyes raised meaningfully in response to her half-uttered protest. June looked down at the bowl. Apple slices in honey.

“Oh!” she took the bowl rather awkwardly, looking away from Seth’s smug expression. “Thank you! Sorry for forgetting. Sweet new year.”

He smiled, clinking his own bowl against hers before also peering through the little window. “So when will it hatch?”

“If I knew that I wouldn’t have had to—”

CRACK

Seth started back with eyes wide as saucers.

“Didn’t I effing tell you!” June cried in a half-whisper, bouncing out of her seat with excitement. She carefully opened the door to the incubator, heart pounding. There was a bright, shiny bit of horn poking through the purple shell.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Seth choked beside her.

“There they are!”

A tiny muzzle poked impatiently through the cracking eggshell, gleaming little claws soon to follow.

“Oh it’s a silverscale…” June breathed. “Oh my… Seth, look.”

Very slowly she slid out the tray, just in time for the baby dragon to emerge fully from its egg, kicking triumphantly at its remnants with its back paws. The scales on its underside were a very dark blue, but its horns and claws and all the glittering scales along the top of its head and its back were a beautiful silver. The little dragon sat up, looking left and right with a remarkably round snoot and fixed its shining pale eyes on Seth.

For a moment all three of them seemed to hold their breath and then the hatchling leapt straight onto Seth’s shoulder. He nearly reeled backwards and June propped him up, barely containing her excitement. The little dragon gave an authoritative squawk and bonked it’s little horned head against Seth’s yaw.

“Ow,” he protested, temporarily shaken out of his bewilderment. The dragon squawked again.

“What did I tell you,” June said, half smug, half jealous, and one hundred percent delighted. “Bonded to you from the start.”

Seth didn’t answer. He sat very still for a moment and then, very slowly, lifted the bowl of sliced apple up to his shoulder. The little dragon peered down at it, wobbled, and then stuck its head fully into the bowl to begin scarfing down apple.

“Oh…” June laughed, grinning at Seth’s helpless expression. “You are going to be absolutely besotted with this one.”

[starrysharks]

i want to finish this design later, but otherwise here's a sketch of a ghost trainer rin

[illmoraineakoi]

Do you guys think that when Dark was dying, he knew it, and became so overwhelmed by the visceral fear of his inevitable incoming death that he started desperately pleading to Alan to somehow come save him?

A forsaken creation, dying and agonized, desperately reaching out to his creator in a last ditch attempt at salvation.

A child, begging for it's parent's help, because they're scared and they don't want to die.

[cornertheculprit]

Athena: Hee hee hee. You were so cute! ...And who's THAT fine-looking young man?

Apollo: That's Nahyuta, back when he used to smile.

[...]

Apollo: These pictures sure bring back memories. Nahyuta is cheerfully smiling in this one. That quiet smile he gives in court now seems almost fake by comparison.

[...]

Apollo: [...] (Before he goes, I'm going to turn back time by righting the wrongs that have been done. I'm going to restore Dhurke's freedom... ...and return a real smile to Nahyuta's face! I'm going to win this case. I just have to!)

[...]

Apollo: ......... (Dhurke, I hope you're watching. I proved your innocence... ...Nahyuta's smiling again... ...and that revolution you've always dreamed of... is finally happening.)

apollo's repeated reflections on nahyuta's smile throughout turnabout revolution and his desire to bring a real one back to his face instead of the fake one he's used up until then......augh. it's so fun to me

[badasscoffeemug]

my general policy is to Not screenshot others’ posts just to talk about them because all it does is create unnecessary drama. that being said. i’m so sorry but this showed up on my for you and it’s just so funny to me. what do you mean “queer coding in tommys character that doesn’t exist”. he gets called gay in his very first episode.