#dead man's hate

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!

[alexjcrowley]

Can I be real for a sec and say that Pope Francis dying marks my loss of hope for these times? He was probably the last big progressive authority figure left in our global panorama.

[obsmiechujek]

anyway hows your day been

[nipuni]

Silence in the library

A speedpaint video of this will be available at my Patreon on february 1st!

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Danny Fenton, aka Phantom, has been given a new task!

In short, literally no one in the Ghost Zone/Infinite Realms wants their mostly peaceful afterlife to be rocked by a certain Gotham rogue named Joker. Which, when he dies, is almost sure to happen because of whatever the hell was in that vat he dropped in included ectoplasm. So, yay, he’s also a little ghostly too, meaning he *is* pretty hard to kill. Unfortunately, there’s also a certain vigilante that is quite keen to murder him in recent years.

So now Danny has to keep the mass murderer trauma clown alive for as long as he possibly can while attempting to keep the Joker from. Well. Being the Joker.

Oh, and naturally, Danny got this assignment AFTER Joker got out of Arkham. Again. And entirely blew up the asylum. Time to join the Goonion, he is NOT doing this without getting PAID, thank you.

[mamawasatesttube]

beef no one at dc thought about but that i would love to see: cassie sandsmark finds out steph (on bruce's orders) nearly got tim exploded to death, when he is the very last one of her emotional support idiots alive, and she does NOT forgive, and she does NOT forget. she will be holding this against steph (and bruce, but that's a whole other list and also this ain't about him) until her dying day. Fucka You, Basard.............. if this moron gets exploded she'll fucking snap because she can't take any more grief. did you even think of that..... no!!!! smh!!!!!!

[ocelhirapilled]

okay so im very excited for DBDs next 2v8

[egophiliac]

I have never been more concerned for a JP update from your art than I am seeing a Cheka knowing the context of Leona’s dream.

My bois ok right?????? My sweet nephews ok right??????

well

uhhhh

I'm sure the real one is fine :)

[divinemanicstate]

next iteration of 2v8 we've got old man and annoying adopted son who sometimes gives him a makeover

[ezkel]

twitter au where James and Regulus are large fan accounts in a toxic fandom and have MAJOR beef with each other.

they get in massive twitter fights daily. the rest of the fandom actually realises how toxic they are because of jegulus and work on getting along because they don't want to be like them.

at some point Regulus is bitching about twitter user "prongs" to Barty. Barty obviously decides the best course of action is to dox the guy.

but before they can post the information they've uncovered. Regulus realises that his "arch nemesis" is the guy he's been pining over. he doesn't dox him.

because his fun was ruined, Barty decides to bring up twitter user "leoStar" around James. which results in an equally as passionate rant as the one Barty heard from Regulus, before James realises Barty has no reason to know about this.

Barty tells James that Regulus is "leoStar"

James goes to talk to Regulus, they get in an in-person bitch fight about who's opinion is correct. somehow it ends in one of them pulling the other in for a rather heated kiss.

for the next month the fandom is in fear because the two accounts are much less violently arguing and are instead just mildly hating.

at the end of the month someone asks about the change and the whole fandom finds out they're dating now.

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Reader who always has Arthur’s picture in her locket necklace.

Clutching to it when Arthur disappeared.

You tell yourself this isn’t something he would do. That he still has enough of a man in him to not do a thing so cruel.

And if maybe he had died, then you will search for him through every crumble of soil and to the ends of the earth, locket by your chest.

So search you did, far and wide. Checked every post office. Tracked down traces of him.

It’s hardest when you ask around; opening your locket to them like baring your heart. The foolish thing that still beats for him day and night.

Months passed and you wonder if it’s better to be crazy. That maybe he had never existed at all. How did he just dissipate into nothing? Only leaving his face in this necklace and a yearning that is slowly killing you from the inside?

You’ve started to see him as this picture; black and white. Void of the blue that colored his eyes. Brazen hair rusting beyond the shade you remembered it to be. The places he once touched and had your skin set alight now cold. Maybe he’ll be forever frozen in time.

But just when your body felt like it’s been pulled completely taut, and your faith toppled on the edge of a cliff, you see him.

A ghost in vivid colors. Your name left his lips and it sent a chill down your spine. A ghost whose touch paralleled the warmth of a fire. Whose stare ignited a pace to your heart and brought you back to life.

You can feel him. Every scratch and every dent of his skin when he reached for your locket.

Where Arthur Morgan remained in your heart and is the reason behind its every beat. Where he has always and will forever reside in.

And you are reminded of this as he kissed you, a confirmation that he’s come home.

thank you for reading my scrapped work! 🥺🫶🏼

here is my masterlist <3

[yashley]

So sad. Do you think I do not understand the sorrow of responsibility?

[sidsinning]

why is lucifer's design so peak

[babyboywilson]

wilson was splayed across house’s couch, a glass of whiskey sloshing in his hands. house was pacing across his living, his own mostly empty glass of whiskey balanced between his fingers as he gestured towards his bookshelf. “-plenty of perfect examples,” house was saying.

dropping his head back against the armrest, wilson huffed out a derisive snort. “i doubt you’ve even read a single one of those books, let alone could quote poetry off the top of your head,” wilson said, lazily gesturing with his whiskey glass at house.

house’s face twisted into a dramatic pout. “it’s like you don’t have any faith in me at all.”

“i don’t,” wilson said, attempting to level house a look of nonchalance but failing due to the alcohol in his system.

with a smug little grin, house moved across the room and propped himself on the arm of the couch that wilson was sitting on. dramatically clearing his throat, house flashed wilson a little wink. then, he closed his eyes and began to speak.

“o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; the ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won; the port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, while follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

“but o heart! heart! heart! o the bleeding drops of red, where on the deck my captain lies, fallen cold and dead.

“o captain! my captain! rise up and hear the bells; rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills; for you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding; for you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

“o captain! dear father! this arm beneath your head; it is some dream that on the deck, you've fallen cold and dead.

“my captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; my father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; the ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; from fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;

“exult, o shores, and ring, o bells! but I, with mournful tread, walk the deck my captain lies, fallen cold and dead.”

as the final words of the poem fell from house’s lips, he finally opened his eyes to see wilson staring at him with stars in his eyes.

“wow,” wilson uttered, letting out a little laugh of surprise as he stared at house like he’d hung the moon.

house shrugged one-shouldered as he put his glass down onto the table. “told you i’m more cultured than you are.”

the look of awe slipped from wilson’s face as he pointed at house in challenge. “i know poetry, too, you know.”

house huffed out a laugh, sliding down onto the couch next to wilson. “no you don’t.”

raising an eyebrow, wilson turned his body until he was half slouched against the armrest and half leaning against house, placing his empty glass next to house’s on the table.

“the healer with his magic powers. i could rub his gentle brow for hours. his manly chest, his stubbled jaw,” wilson started to recite.

house kicked at wilson’s thigh with his foot. “shut the hell up.”

“everything about him leaves me raw with joy. oh, house, your very name, will never leave this man the same,” wilson continued, leaning in until his breath was ghosting against house’s cheek; whispering the final line of the poem against house’s stubble.

“dick. of course that’s the only poem you have memorized.”

wilson’s nose rubbed against the underside of house’s jaw. “you love it, don’t deny it.”

house shook his head. “i hate you,” he grumbled, even as he slipped his arm around wilson’s lower back and tugged wilson closer so wilson could trace open-mouthed kisses down house’s neck.

“should’ve known,” wilson said, pressing lips to skin. “you’d be,” wilson said after another kiss, “as good with poetry as you are with music.” another kiss to the skin above the collar of house’s t-shirt.

“music is just poetry with a melody,” house said, sucking in a breath as wilson’s lips grazed against his collarbone.

wilson moved up, kissing the corner of house’s lip before hovering just out of reach. “prove it,” he whispered.

“fuckin’ tease,” house muttered.

wilson laughed softly, shifting to ghost a feather-light kiss to house’s lips before he settled against house’s side with his legs draped over house’s lap.

drawing in a deep breath, house closed his eyes and let his alcohol-infused brain find a jazz song he knew by heart.

softly, house began to sing, “someday he'll come along. the man I love. and he'll be big and strong. the man I love. and when he comes my way, i'll do my best to make him stay.

“he'll look at me and smile. i'll understand. then in a little while, he'll take my hand. and though it seems absurd, I know we both won't say a word.

“maybe I shall meet him sunday. maybe monday, maybe not. still i'm sure to meet him one day. maybe tuesday will be my good news day.

“he'll build a little home that's meant for two, from which I'll never roam. who would, would you? and so all else above, i'm dreaming of the man I love.”

the final words hung in the air, and house turned his head to glance at wilson.

wilson didn’t utter a word; he just leaned in and drew house into a long, lingering kiss that left them both breathless.

[iamthedamndonutdrawcat]

fuck it, moonwater! your brother's strange nerdy awkward weird sick best friend has no business being this hot

also sorry but regulus is so loser coded

[fumifooms]

I don’t like minimizing the importance and gravity of Laios and Toshiro’s fight into just being a childish squabble, even if to a degree it is framed that way, because to both of them it has a lot of personal significance and emotional weight and runs very deep to their characters… The fight isn’t nothing it’s a LOT, they made up but it’s not something easy to express and to get over for either of them which makes it all the more meaningful! I’m on both sides but there very much are sides, there’s no "they’re both having a ball, Toshiro and Laios hand in hand yay" side to the fight, that comes after

The fight with Toshiro WAS very scary to Laios, almost existentially so, but it’s moreso the "I thought I’d made a friend!!" bit and my god. My god actually

Like it’s not "just" about oh his friend liking him less than he thought, THAT IS SO MUCH. It’s a bond he thought he had being a lie it’s all the time and moments spent together either being a lie from his perspective or marred now looking back. It’s not only being upset at Toshiro for lying but upset at himself that he’s so easy to fool, it’s being upset that there’s something so wrong with you that you can’t even tell if your "close buddy" even actually likes you or not, it’s like. Holding my head. He can’t trust his own vision of events that happened do you see. There’s always this film of distrust that it could be a lie that should be there when he interacts with people there’s always this sense of cloak and dagger to expect backstabs out of nowhere because you CAN’T see it coming you CAN’T you CAN’T there’s something about you which makes it impossible so you CAN’T-

He’s so scared of not being able to read people. He knows it’s a weak spot he has, he’s always known. All of these bits are centered around social expectations and betrayals, the assumption that he doesn’t belong either in society or with other humans.

And Laios’ level of awareness is actually sort of complex to analyze, but it’s there, there’s how out of him and Falin he was the one sensitive to the ~aura of hatred~ he felt from the townspeople, there’s of course his nightmares whispering to him about the mocking looks, and how yeah actually he realizes that his gold stripper coworker was taking advantage of him. There’s of course the Winged Lion speech about his trauma and how he fundamentally mistrusts/dislikes humans to some deep seated degree, this distrust that he still keeps under control always. There’s how pre-canon he often wanted to suggest eating monsters but never worked up the courage to bring it up with the others. There’s how he comes across as stoic when he isn’t being enthusiastic…… We don’t know how aware and wary he is exactly in the moment but we do know he has some anxiety around social stuff, and looking back he does notice and aughh augh, the sense you have to hide yourself to not get hurt, and be on your guard and shit and.

When you don’t know what to look out for and when to look out for it, the general ‘common sense’ of not always trusting people or noticing when someone’s messing with you becomes hypervigilance in social settings

"Man they really know what you hate huh." Being socially unaware literally plagues him, he knows, he knows it so well.

It’s so quick that it’s almost hard to digest how literal and blatant Laios summoning his monster to crush all the people who’ve hurt him is. His literal go-to coping mechanism for comfort in his literal monster-induced emotionally intense nightmare, saving him by taking away the upsetting element (the humans)

"Monsters are his coping fantasy, where they can whisk him away from humanity, all the hurt it’s caused him and its arbitrary rules" with the subtlety of a brick. Monsters are his comfort safe zone "because they kill humans" yes but no it’s because he pits them as the guardians against humans who to him are in the role of the agressors. To him they represent freedom from the shackles of what it means to be part of humanity, a fundamentally social species