#he cared so much!!!

[celestialbruise]

Light needing validation from his father for what he was doing as Kira, knowing he was never going to get it but still secretly, desperately desiring it…..Light secretly, deep down, needing L to *see* his work as Kira, understand why he did it and agree that he was doing was right even knowing that was impossible, not that L couldn’t see him, couldn’t understand him, because he did and he still thought Light was wrong, and knowing to the marrow of his bones that L would always be fated to catch and destroy him, not just Kira but the remnants of Light Yagami that were forged into Kira’s likeness, so unresectable that without Kira there would be nothing left….am I onto anything here?

[wanologic]

reminder to take care of your loser human body

[scriblesandbits]

God IS a middle schooler and we ARE a science project except he does know we exist and has very mixed feelings about the whole ordeal

[artkaninchenbau]

A h-heartfelt reunion..?

Bonus

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[purpleangiie]

Damian: "Grayson, what are you staring at?"

Dick: "Sh!"

Tim: "Leave him be, D. He's emotional."

Damian: "Over what?"

Dick, staring at the two quiet figures in front of them: "Would you believe that? Jason and Bruce existing in the same space and not throwing a tantrum, but actually behaving like two adults? They're even working together at the same desk. Unbelievable."

Damian: "Wait, has father just ruffled Todd's hair?"

Dick: "And he didn’t even punched him back! I'm so proud of how far they both have come. *sniff* Now we could all be one happy family."

Damiam: *looking absolutely bewildered, gazing up at Tim who just shrugs*

Tim: "Give them 15 minutes."

Damian: "12."

---

Jason: "Bruce. Bruce WHERE IS MY PEN?"

Bruce: "Y-your pen, Jason?"

Jason: "Oh my god. You don't even remember it. My pen, Bruce. My personalized red and golden Montblanc you gifted me for my 14th birthday. I left it here, where is it? You threw it away, didn't you? LIKE YOU DID WITH ANY REGARD YOU EVER HAD FOR ME AND MY FEELINGS? DID YOU FORGET I WAS YOUR SON TOO? WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO LOVE ME?"

Dick: "Damn! We got so close."

Tim: "And that'd be 10 minutes and 35 seconds."

Damian: "-TT- Pay up, Drake."

[ugly-bug-starscream]

skyfire for my tfone au!! hes researching ways to obtain energon so he visits the mines and is a friend to all the miners

[feelo-fick]

why are you still here, then????

[chloesimaginationthings]

William Afton winning that “idgaf” award in FNAF

[soldrawss]

Something something 16yo 2k12 Mikey gets sucked into a portal and sent into the RISE universe and ends up helping raise the RISE kiddos AU

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

(Not) an approved use of the Power Of Friendship

[chilchucktimbs]

aggressively shoves this in your face

[hinamie]

new official illust of them with puppies healed something in me

[noodles-and-tea]

So what if Fiddleford ruffled past!Stanley's hair covering his eyes, causing him to resemble Tate (imagine the angst)

Dude he misses his kid so much :((((

[daleespringdraw]

I do not care for Poppy Playtime… I don’t plan to like Poppy Playtime….

BUT….

.

.

.

I— I kinda like him…. he’s really cute

nvm I hate him now

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.