#get wrecked bitch

[embraceweird]

The battle with Ripley on the sinking ship is SO. FUCKING. GORGEOUS

[jokerwithcrowbar]

you’re like, really into that crowbar, man…

[rotted-rabbit]

You know what? If you won't be our mother, can Evan be?

Yes, I will be the best mother ever. We will overthrow the government tomorrow. Be ready, kid.

-Princeton Ev / 📺

[imdatbluegirl]

What he fcking deserves

Oooooof get wrecked Albus, get fucking wrecked

Bamboozled, tricked, manipulated, the whole shebang

Take the fucking L bro

LMAOOOO.

[duncans-idahoe]

Making my friends watch top gun for the first time and it’s become a diss on maverick night instead lmaoooo

[vaguely-concerned]

rook falling asleep on the red couch in the lighthouse dining room while lucanis is making dinner....... they were helping out by keeping him company and peeling and chopping potatoes for a while there but then the potatoes are done and the room is so safe and warm and smells like coffee and good food and lucanis is trying to explain something to spite and his voice is low and soft and good to listen to and rook's eyes only slip closed for a moment. they'll get up to save the world again or whatever in a second just. one moment. while the world is warm and kind. and then they're being shaken gently awake an hour later because it's time to eat and everyone's starting to drift hopefully dinner-wards

[wheremylsdgo]

Promising my firstborn child to any entity knowing Im asexual and not planning to have any child

[burned-lariat]

"I'm not in the line of fire!" I wish you were.

[arcadebandit]

Regarding the drawing requests - if it’s not too late…. have you drawn candybug before? :] /np

surprised it took me this long to draw candybug honestly.

He reminds me of those scary af dogs that have names like "princess".

[shitpost-it-tristan]

Hello there, Friend!

Don't mind me! Just going through the Wreck-It Ralph Screencap website– Again. 👀

I love looking at all the Screencaps and just... overanalyzing them! Always small details that I didn't pick up on (especially while watching the movie)

For example, The time-lapse at the start of the movie! Since it went by real quick and all!

Analysis down below! 👇

(^ And I'm assuming that this might be the first time the game was played?? Or maybe the first week of being plugged in? Not sure, but moving on!)

First off, imma say it... RALPH'S FACE IS FUCKING HEARTBREAKING TO LOOK AT. It's not the expression of: "Aw, I lost :( "

NO, HE LOOKS GUILTY. AND THIS WAS "30 YEARS AGO." HE ALREADY FELT BAD FOR BEING PROGRAMMED TO DESTROY THE NICELANDERS BUILDING.

Y'all see how Felix isn't looking at Ralph? He's either looking down at the building, like "Gosh, woo! The gamers did it! All fixed!! 😊"

Or he's looking at the Nicelanders (Sidenote: Yeah, it's most likely just cause that's how the gameplay was programmed. But I'm still gonna over-analyze it!)

Y'all see that?? The Nicelanders be smiling and happy for a moment, AND SWITCH UP AFTER FELIX CLOSES HIS EYES.

It's probably like that outside of gameplay too. They probably act one way while Felix is looking, and the moment he turns his back, THEY BECOME THE JERKLANDERS.

(^ I have to put this in cause I thought it was *SO* funny. "Man, Gene's the fucking mayor too. Goddamn Gene... fucking mayor of Pettyland." 💀 he's the biggest asshole out of all of them. Makes sense he'd be the Mayor of that petty shithole place. "nice"-land.)

His eyes just stay closed.

Felix, you oblivious little fuck (I love you, you dense lil man...)

BUT OPEN YOUR EYES MF-- GODDAMN!!

Okay, so the look of shock on Ralph's face. He's like "AYO WHAT THE FUCK Y'ALL DOING?! HOW CAN Y'ALL EVEN LIFT ME!!? I'M 9FT TALL AND WEIGH 653 POUNDS--"

Wait, cause y'all see how the first three Nicelanders are the ones lifting him up?

GENE AIN'T DOING ANYTHING. GENE YOU'RE A SHIT MAYOR. DON'T EVEN PULL YOUR WEIGHT AROUND HERE--

NAH, CAUSE FELIX IS THE ONLY ONE KEEPING THAT PLACE FROM FALLING APART. IN AND OUT OF GAMEPLAY.

^ GENE DON'T DO SHIT. 🗣📢

They gotta hold a new election; Felix for Mayor. Or LITERALLY ANYONE OTHER THAN GENE.

Ralph: "I'm a big part of the game, technically speaking... why are you here, GENE???"

*Gene's just the mf who gets thrown out of the building.*

KNOW YOUR PLACE, GODDAMN, GENE--

(Whoops I got off-topic. 😬💀)

Well first off - since it's the gameplay and all - for 30 years, Felix HAD HIS FUCKING EYES CLOSED; LITERALLY AND METAPHORICALLY.

Also, that's just level 1? How many levels does 'Fix-it Felix Jr' have? Does it just keep going until Felix Game-overs?

Does Ralph get thrown off the building every time a level's complete? Poor guy, and then he's treated like garbage - again, metaphorically AND LITERALLY

BECAUSE HE LIVES IN THE DUMP.

/end rant

[geddy-leesbian]

in the past few days I've written two very different scenarios in which Leon loses consciousness due to being a moron and wakes up to Luis healing him not sure what this says about who I am as a person

[notsohehehahanow]

karen and ted wheeler getting fucked up trying to protect their kids -> nancy and mike losing their shit because their parents are in the hospital

maybe? please? duffers?

[incrediblyaccuratethoughts]

I’m Gonna Tell ‘Em (Don’t you Dare)

Ao3

Tim just wanted coffee. That’s really all he desired in life. Coffee. His position as Red Robin. And Wayne Industries to get its shit together for one goddamn day. In that order.

“Are you shitting me? I was a fucking crime lord you little terror, I don’t give a fuck-”

He’d done an all-nighter in the Batcave. Again. Trying to crack a cold case he was sure had something to do with Riddler's vague warning a few nights ago. And he was so close, but his eyes had started to close for just a little too long.

So tell him why he walked into an argument that seemed to be based around the topic of murder, at 7 in the morning. Between Jason and Damian. Who both tried to kill him at least once. Respectively.

“And I am the Demon Prodigy of the League of Assassins. I could kill a man before I could speak.”

Tim stands in the doorway, contemplating if his need for coffee is higher than his potential rate of getting maimed in the dining room.

“Yeah, but you were fucking sheltered inside the bases like goddamn Rapunzel in her-”

“I was not sheltered. You of all people should know of Mother’s harshness for disobedience-“

“Oh and I’m sure you were so disobedient Mr. Goody Two Shoes-“

Ultimately, the urge for coffee wins. Tim crosses the kitchen as unnoticeably as he can, skirting the edges and keeping his footsteps as light as he can manage on 10 hours of sleep in the last week.

He’s busy, okay?

“I’ll admit I wasn’t raised to go against the orders of a higher-up but that did not mean-”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.”

“Did my propensity for sneaking animals into the house escaped your notice? I thought you were better trained-“

“So what? You save every bird with a broken wing you come across, but you’d willingly slit the throat of a human?”

“Yes, Todd. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

The coffee pot is half full. Tim counts this as the one redeeming factor of this morning. The threat of getting stabbed is nothing in the face of sweet, sweet caffeine.

“What’s your fucking number then?”

“I can’t possibly know the exact-“

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that shit on me-“

Tim considers pouring himself a cup, but he’s gonna drink the whole thing anyway and he’s exhausted enough to zone out during Alfred’s inevitable lecture, so he takes the whole pot and tips it back.

“I was sent out for missions when I was barely more than a toddler. You can’t expect me to remember every-“

“Ra’s had files on every fucking mission I did while brain dead and high on Lazarus rage, there’s no fucking way he didn’t have an exact-“

Tim chugs his precious coffee. The temperature is surprisingly cool enough that he doesn't immediately burn his tongue. Not that a few scorched taste buds would stop Tim from inhaling the only thing between him and unconscious. But it’s the thought that counts.

“What’s yours then, Todd?”

“Nope. Not until you tell me yours first. I’m not about to have you raise the number because I told you mine.”

“That’s preposterous. I would do no such thing.”

Tim calculates his chances of making it back out of the kitchen with a quarter pot of coffee in his hands and decides his caffeine fix is safer off with a few counters between him and his homicidal brothers.

And yah know. His physical well-being. But that’s pretty low on his ‘fucks to give list’ at the moment.

“I don’t trust a fucking word coming out of your mouth-“

“There’s an easy way to settle this if you’d just-“

“What? Shut up? Drop the argument? No fucking-“

“We can write it down separately and then show it to each other at the same time."

“…huh.”

Tim looks up in genuine fear when both of his siblings go quiet. That’s never a good sign. Not in this house.

There’s a window to his right that he could probably smash through if it came to it.

Neither of them are looking at him though, just regarding each other with much less animosity than a few seconds ago. Tim decides he’s probably fine and goes back to his coffee.

“I will go retrieve a piece of paper and two pens.”

Damian leaves the room and Tim freezes like if he stays still enough it’ll keep Jason from noticing him. Unfortunately, now that his older brother’s attention is directed to his surroundings and not just screaming at a 12-year-old, he makes direct eye contact with Tim.

“Oh hey, Timmers. How long have you been here?”

Tim stares at him blankly. He- doesn’t know what answer Jason wants from him and he’s not willing to face his older brother’s wrath if he’d been having what he thought was a private conversation.

“Sorry about the noise. I hope we didn’t wake you up.” Jason says after it’s clear that he isn't getting answers out of Tim.

As if the manor isn’t literally soundproofed. For this exact reason.

Tim’s 17 years of social etiquette training won’t let him just not answer the open-ended comment, but god does he wish that it did.

“No, I was already up.”

Jason nods as if he was expecting that answer. Which is fair. Tim’s sure he looks just as tired as he feels. His eye bags could hold all of his emotional trauma. They’re Guchi.

“And does Alfred know you’re drinking straight from the pot?” Jason motions to the carafe Tim’s clutching like a lifeline. Because it is.

Tim opens his mouth to lie through his teeth, but is saved by Damian’s re-entry. Wow, he’s never been so glad to see his stab-happy younger brother.

True to his word, the kid’s carrying a few pieces of paper and pens. Tim could leave now. He could casually walk right past them, out of the kitchen, and back to the cave to keep working on his case, but dammit, he’s invested now.

He’s still not sure what this argument is about exactly, but he’s willing to wait a few more minutes to satiate his curiosity now that he’s tentatively sure that the argument isn’t going to evolve into physical violence.

“I’ve acquired the tools to finish this once and for all, Todd.” Damian announces, sliding half of his spoils to Jason.

“Great. We’ll write our body count down and on 3 we’ll turn ‘em around. Got it?”

“Don’t tell me what to do” Damian grumbles, but writes dutifully anyway. The kid would be funny if he didn’t back his threats up with swords.

Tim is. Still lost, but he’s always secretly wondered how many people his brothers have killed. In a morbid way. Mostly because he wants to know if the murder attempts on him were a particularly special event or just a pattern. For his mental health's sake.

“Got it?” Jason asks, holding his paper close to his chest so no one can peek. Tim doesn’t know who would, considering he’s the only one in the kitchen that’s not a part of this squabble, but Damian copies the movement and Tim finds himself inching closer, taking the last swig of his coffee.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

They flip the papers around and for a moment the kitchen is quiet.

“FUCK YEAH!” Jason pumps his fist in the air with a whoop. “Ha! Take that, Demon Brat! I’m the Robin with the highest kill count!”

Tim spits out his coffee and coughs violently. It’s partially because he got some in his lungs, but also to cover the incredulous laughter bursting uncontrollably out of him. It takes him a good few seconds to get his breathing under control, but when he looks up, his brothers are staring at him.

For a moment he’s tempted. So fucking tempted. Because he hasn’t told anyone anything more than bits and pieces about his time with the League. Hell, the only reason his family even knows about his little stint playing lap dog for Ra’s, is because he choked out a vague explanation about his missing spleen when he went into sepsis.

They don’t know about the missions he was sent on. The people he sold out. And most importantly, the multiple bases he blew up because he was crazier than the Joker after Bart and Kon’s death and then the near miss with Bruce.

The bases he absolutely didn’t evacuate. With hundreds of people inside. A few actually avalanched down mountainsides, and he’d eat his Batarang if any of them survived.

The only word he’d confidently use to describe his mental state then, is feral.

He didn’t have to blow them up. He really didn’t. A good few of the bases he’d never actually seen before he snuck in to level the place, but he’d been having a shitty year so naturally, he was going to make sure Ra’s got to have one too.

Not to mention that Tim was as depressed as he’d ever been and wasn’t particularly giving a lot of fucks about if he died during his warpath. He’d already lost a spleen, what were a few more organs?

So this argument? This competition? He finds it objectively fucking hilarious.

Damian and Jason are still staring at him in bewilderment, and for a moment -just a wild moment- he thinks about telling them.

Explaining how he was just. So done. And could only think of one way out, so he systematically hacked into every base he could get his hands on. Stole as many files as he could during his time constraint. And then blew all of them sky-high.

Thought about telling them how on one particularly bad night, gone through every log of the people in those bases. How he hadn’t been ‘sick’ as he claimed the week after he managed to crawl out of his safe house.

He was just too horrified to look anyone in the eye.

It would be funny to watch his family’s expressions go through the five stages of grief and add a few more just for funsies, if they even believed him at all. But no. Tim had his secrets and he was going to take them to the grave.

He grinned at his brothers, patted Jason on the shoulder with a quiet congratulations, and strolled out of the kitchen.

Tim had cases to solve and letting his family assume he wasn’t capable of murder was better for all of them in the long run.

No matter how wrong they were.

👻

In my defense. Writing prompts make the brain noodle go brr. You can blame @coffinbirds and @batcavescolony for these posts.

[weaponizedducks]

after rewatching knives out for the billionth time i have come to the conclusion that chris evans and daniel craig thrive in the silly goofy roles. get them out of the Sexy Cool Action Hero™ typecast and let them go apeshit

[justkillingthyme]

i think.That you are worth more than you think you are Because the way that i see you and the way that you see yourself are wildly different things ,. Fromw aht ive seen i mean.

Anons are very strange sometimes and i dont think they should be called human when that happens because what is human without a name to. To go with it

i get very happy whwn i see you post . that isnt to say ill go on a rampage and start killing people if you wver need a break because you dont owe me the happiness you bring. You are doing what you like and i am along for the ride .! like a stupid hitchhiker who saw where you were headed and liked the idea .

i think layton has the worst most atrocious handwriting or the most curliest neat fancy writing ever. Chicken scratch or constant calligraphy no in between. also that time he slapped a sticky note on floras back and ran off. Yeah that was a good one. go little gayboy and have fun with the evil goth man in the alleyway who likes to cosplay

I see you’ve trapped me into responding by attaching a headcanon! Nefarious!

I’ve gotten the impression that a lot of how people see me and the way I see myself are different but I’m just kinda. Chalking it up to the persona I put online. I’ll always be a different person to you guys because here (and particularly on this blog) I’m a more normal idealized version of myself and then like. Parts of The Mental Illness seep through which is bad cause my blog is for silly posting about puzzle game characters and making other people cry. Ideally here I’m not. Me. Thyme is a silly little guy behind the screen who goes feral for Clark Triton and like. I’ll leave it at that. My personal blog has more bitching (a lot more. And I thank everyone who’s been putting up with it) but even then I try to curb the worst of it. Cause you guys don’t wanna hear allat and I don’t like making people worry. It kinda makes me want to die actually. Emotional vulnerability is like. Mmy worst trait.

I am glad that I make people happy tho! That’s kinda all I want out of anything so likeeee life goal achieved thanks. I should start calling you guys my hitchhikers now. How did I get 300 people in my car idk but you guys are along for the ride

Hershel is so me. I think he tries to have super nice handwriting and he does when it matters but if he’s going fast it quickly just devolves into something illegible to anyone but him. Hkdbkdb