#he doesn't want to be left out okay ):

[technically-human]

He did eventually sign it

[riddlerosehearts]

isabeau's confession at the end of ISAT is constantly living rent-free in my head it's so fucking good. right now i'm obsessed with the way he responds to siffrin saying "i love you too" because just. imagine you're siffrin and for so long now you've believed that you were horrible disgusting manipulative unloved and unworthy of love and yet. your best friend is telling you he loves you. and you feel that you love him too (in what way? the same way that he loves you? you're not quite sure yet, but stars, you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest, he means so much to you) so you tell him so.

and he responds by telling you he already knew that because he has eyes.

you're siffrin and you are kind passionate protective and so loved and full of love for your friends, your family, and yet you hate yourself so, so deeply that you don't see any of that but isabeau does. according to him it's written all over your face, apparently--the face you're always trying so hard to hide with your hat, which as the universe would have it, you don't have anymore!! and he sees you and he loves you and he knows you love him back, even after you said and did such horrible, cruel things to him and the rest of your family that you know they didn't deserve, after you almost broke the world trying to keep them by your side, somehow isa understands you and still loves every single part of you. and you love him, you love him, you love him because how could you not?

especially since he also got so excited when you told him you loved him that he shouted "CRAB YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in your face.

[dykedvonte]

I genuinely don't think Curly would be as caring for Jimmy as some people depict him in aus where Jimmy gets stuck and burned rather than Curly.

I feel like the realization would truly hit in that moment of what Jimmy did and how bad it was as Curly desperately tries to get him out of the cockpit. He's trying to break in to save Jimmy, but is he? All the thoughts in his head; Jimmy's trying to kill them all, Jimmy's trapped in the cockpit, Jimmy raped Anya, Jimmy's going to die trapped in the cockpit, Jimmy trying to kill them all because of what he did to Anya, and sort of a final Jimmy did this. Is he trying to save him or trying to figure out why? Trying to finally make him take accountability? You can't hold trial for a dead man. Does he want Jimmy to die? Not really, but it'd be easier than figuring out where they go after this. After they drag him out and get his set up in medical and Jimmy refuses to look at anyone but him.

He's the only one who is truly willing to care for Jimmy. I don't think he's keeping him alive for the same reasons, just he can't bring himself to put him down. He wants answers, he wants to be mad. This is the first time he can talk to Jimmy and not have anything spun back at him but he can't get a response. He's never really been able to but for the first time Jimmy actually has to listen and he'll never know if he's actually listening to him this time. It reminds him too much of not understanding Anya. Anya has to care for him and he doesn't want her too, she shouldn't have to but they can't just let him die, can they? Should they? It's easier than hearing him in pain but that's a reminder he did this... even if Curly allowed it to happen.

No one seems to have thoughts on it but him and Anya. They know the reason he crashed the ship but they don't get the logic. Anya does actually, but Curly has to admit he does to. Has to admit he's always known Jimmy's logic behind things, things that need to be "fixed" but he's always taken responsibility and fixed it himself. The first time he really let Jimmy take responsibility and he couldn't, he can't fix anything and Curly know he can't either. He looks at Jimmy and sees every mistake but now he's wondering how many of Jimmy's he's been tacking on to his own. How different are they?

What should he had done to stop it? Maybe this should've happened to him...

Curly doesn't like those thoughts and how they only come when he's stuck with Jimmy, like he's always done to himself. He's way too gentle when he gives Jimmy his pills, too mindful of teeth that always gave him hollow smiles. A tongue that always told half truths, while he held his own. He holds his jaw too kindly and thinks about all the times he's clenched his and smiled for his friends sake. For Jimmy's sake. Jimmy still swallows the pills and struggles, whines like it's not his fault.

He hoped it hurt.

And he's a little scared that he's a little too okay thinking that.

[sodapopcurtis-dx-asks]

Police sirens.

There was red and blue flashing against the white of the house, the Curtis brothers all stood outside on the grass, holding onto each other as the police asked questions and checked inside the home.

Just a few moments before, Soda had done a full turn-around and grabbed the things he left at the DX meant for Ponyboy. That poor kitten, nearly abandoned and howling just as loud as Ponyboy was on the phone earlier.

Soda wasn't no snitch, of course he didn't tell the fuzz what had happened to his brother. Ponyboy was sick. That's all they needed to worry about. He really wanted to though. God, if only.

Ponyboy's poor hair. Rebleached, and a mess. Darry and Soda had both looked him over a number of times. The kid was in ruins, looking just as bad at the day he came home from that damn church.

It was a different kind of bad. The type where you could tell he didn't lose someone else, but he lost himself. It tore Soda's heart to shreds seeing him like that all over again.

There wasn't a scratch on him. Not physically, at least. But Soda was being driven crazy over the fact Ponyboy probably just had another traumatic 9 hours added onto his life's story and Soda wasn't even there to do anything.

He should've left work earlier.

The cops finished up around the place, leaving the brothers to clean themselves up. Nothing from the house had been taken. Nothing had been moved. There was minimal signs of someone tampering with the window. A spilled drink on the floor—only water, thankfully.

“We're gonna get you inside and fix you right up, okay Ponyboy?” Darry was holding Ponyboy up, clutching him under his arm like a mother bird using a wing to protect her baby.

Ponyboy was still crying and crying, you would think he'd run out of tears by now. He just blubbered out a real tiny "okay."

Soda had been sobbing too. He hadn't even realized until he felt the tears drop onto his clenched fists.

He didn't notice the pain coming from his fingers digging into his palm either until then. “Christ...” He swore under his breath.

For once, Soda felt stuck. He couldn't run away, he couldn't do anything. He had been talking about running away all day, and this seemed like the one time he couldn't.

He should've punched Mark Jennings. He should've talked to Steve. He should've called Ace and Elisabeth.

But he didn't. He felt so stuck because he was right in the middle of the chaos. Like a wreckless dog in a cage. Snipping one second, whining the next. Begging for some kind of attention.

Soda came back to when he felt the pain in his hands again. He had punched a hole into the wall of the bathroom. He stared hard at his hands.

Darry was yelling something at him, the ringing in his ears making it hard to process anything. He just looked at him.

He felt the tears falling down his cheeks again. Seemed like all he could feel tonight was his own tears and blood.

“Darry...” Soda whispered, his voice warbling as he turned to him. He nearly broke his fucking hand. Both of them, apparently.

“Glory, Soda.” Darry whispered back, grabbing his brother's hands and staring at the blood on his knuckles. Bruises already blooming colors, looking like some kind of sea-sick sunset on the back of his hands.

...How many times had he punched the wall?

In a blink, night time had already passed. He could hardly focus when he was angry, and it left him in a new place again.

Ponyboy was sent to their shared room just a couple hours earlier, he was "off duty" for the rest of the week, Darry named it.

Off duty was just a funny phrase for "being called out sick".

The kitten had made it's way to Ponyboy some way, Soda didn't have any memory of giving it to him. But it was on the bed with both of them.

Soda was hardly able to sleep. He blamed it on the cat, knowing fully well it wasn't. The cat was actually making him more tired, ironically enough.

He had too much stuff on his mind. It was going to drive him crazy trying to sleep after the day he's had. He couldn't be surprised, but he wasn't exactly happy about it either.

“Soda?” Ponyboy interrupted his thoughts with a soft voice, leaning in close to Soda so he could talk easier.

Soda hummed a response, his eyebrows flinching up before relaxing again to let Ponyboy know he was listening. “Yeah, Pone?”

It was real quiet again for a moment, before Ponyboy's voice cracked with an “Are you mad at me?”

He hiccuped, Ponyboy was crying again.

Soda opened his eyes and turned to him. “No. Not one bit, Ponyboy.” He put a hand on Pony's cheek, bumping foreheads with him very delicately. He knew Ponyboy was nauseous, he didn't wanna clunk heads with him and make it worse. “Not at all.”

Ponyboy sniffled. He was still out of it, Soda could see it on his face. God, the poor thing.

“...Is Steve mad at you?” It felt inappropriate to ask, but Ponyboy had better things to worry about than making his brother feel awkward.

Soda stared, head still pressed against Pony's. He kind of shrugged, not really knowing how to reply. “I don't think so.”

“Oh... well. I'm mad at Steve.” Ponyboy nodded, before moving away from being under Soda's hand.

Soda dropped his hand in between their faces, letting it sit there idly. “Oh yeah? Why's that?” He smiled a bit.

Ponyboy rubbed his eyes, immediately regretting the motion and pulling away his own hands from his face with a grimace.

“...Because he's stupid.” He was holding his fists out awkwardly, stretching his fingers and then clasping them again. The feeling of... everything. It was weird to Ponyboy whilst he was high.

Soda giggled. “What? Stevie's real smart. Smarter than me.” He was eyeing Ponyboy's motions, frowning slightly as he recognized the discomfort.

Ponyboy mumbled, sighing. “...Well, maybe in some areas.”

“Oh, c'mon– you ain't supposed to agree with me.” Soda laughed, shoving Ponyboy lightly, before immediately apologizing.

Ponyboy groaned and readjusted again, holding his breath for a second to reduce nausea before he exhaled again. He mumbled something to Soda, his voice was so quiet though, even Soda couldn't hear half of what he said.

Soda just nodded, humming. “I can't stop him from doing whatever he wants. It's not like we're– y'know.”

Ponyboy shook his head. “I know, but...” He placed his hand on the kitten, who had crawled it's way around them both and behind Ponyboy. “I think he kind of wants you to.” He put the kitten between them.

Soda just stared at the kitten, ignoring Ponyboy's eye contact. “...Yeah, I figured.” He sighs. He knew. He just didn't want to admit it himself.

Ponyboy had fallen asleep hours before Soda even got a wink in. Four in the morning, he still had to be up in two hours. His brain was still working up a storm. It was pissing him off at this point.

He did not want to go to work today.

Darry wasn't as merciful to Soda as he was to Ponyboy, unfortunately.

Soda was old enough to make decisions on his own, Darry agreed with that plenty. But he still had to boss Soda around for doing dumb stuff. Even for letting his mind chase itself all night... as if he didn't do the same damn thing.

Darry wrapped up Soda's hands at the kitchen table, tying the bandages around nice and tight before tearing and placing a piece of tape down on the loose end. “Don't go trying to punch nothin' else, you hear me?”

Soda scoffed. “I'm hearin'.” He fidgeted with the bandages, before stopping himself to stare up at Darry.

Darry stared back and smiled. “You gonna be okay today? Or uh, y'gonna be... "tired" again?”

Soda shook his head. “As much as I would love to not be "tired", Darry, I am not in the mood to be...” Soda motioned something awkward, rolling his shoulders and bobbling his head. Myself.

Darry rolled his eyes, he wasn't hearing any of it. “Well. Then, if you can't be—” He pulled the same motion, yourself, “—at least go easy on yourself. Don't tire yourself out more.” He teased, before pulling Soda up out of the chair.

“And, I'll... help keep an eye out for Steve for you, alright? I'll be staying around a little later to help Pony, leavin' around noon. Two-Bit can take over babysittin' by then, if he ain't too drunk that is.”

Soda just nodded, smiling at the nudge at Two-Bit. “Alright...” He stared at the bandages on his hands again as he began to walk around, grabbing up his things.

Soda and Darry both left, Darry dropping off Soda, leaving Soda without a vehicle today. He was alright with it. For now, at least.

Only working on an hour of sleep, if less. This'll be an experience. At least now he didn't have to lie about being sleepy.

Ding ding!

Soda picked up a note left by one of his coworkers, a small complaint about how he left suddenly. Nothing serious. They picked up for him, thank God.

He got himself to work immediately, dragging out some supply boxes and restocking some things. He did some extra work here and there, just to make up for his missed hours.

And then he sat his ass down on that stool. Ready for whatever came at him.

Alright. Let's see how this shit show plays out today.

[unfinishedslurs]

every robin gets a freebie

reverse robins in the aftermath of the death of filipe garzonas

A CD was in the mail within the next week, blank but for a note that slipped out when the envelope was opened. You should really trust in your birds more often, B. Learn from your mistakes for once. 

Jason felt bile in his throat. It was body cam footage, blurry and half obscured, of Robin and Garzonas on the roof. Footage that still clearly showed Garzonas taking a too-far step back, Robin lunging to reach him, and then…

But that’s not what happened, Jason doesn’t say. His tongue feels swollen and thick in his mouth. 

Batman takes off the cowl solemnly. “Jaylad,” he says. “Jason. I’m so sorry for doubting you. I never should have…”

He can’t be here anymore. He can’t be in this cave, can’t stand Bruce looking at him like that, can’t stand to even be in the vicinity of the Robin uniform he no longer deserves. 

He bolts for the exit.

“Jason!” he hears Bruce call, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. Not even when he nearly runs into Alfred, not when Damian tries to grasp his arm, not when Duke asks him what’s wrong or when Tim yelps in surprise and drops his cane jumping out of the way. He just runs, out the manor door and into the night. 

For a split second the figure on the roof is overlaid with Gloria. Beautiful, resigned Gloria, who was so scared of what Felipe would do to her that she would do anything to stop it. 

Then he blinks, and he’s on the rooftop with the Spoiler. 

“Relax,” Spoiler says, “I’m not gonna jump. I'm only three steps into my five-step plan for world dominance. Can’t leave that unfinished. Imagine the paperwork.”

“I dunno.” Jason’s hands are shaking. “You seem like the kinda freak who would enjoy that.”

Spoiler lowers her mask, and Stephanie Brown smiles at him. 

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know.” His voice wavers. “You know. You know what I did. How did you…why did you…what was the reason?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!”

“Call it tradition then, I guess.” Steph sounds almost amused. “Robin’s flock together.”

“But you don’t like me.”

“Who told you that?”

No one, but she doesn’t exactly go out of her way to talk to Jason. He just kind of assumed. 

Tim’s awkward around him. Sometimes they’re fine, like when he wandered into the library where Jason was and asked if he wanted to get ice cream together. Other times he wouldn’t see him for three weeks. Jason tries not to think about the nights Tim has had dreams that left him cackling loud enough to wake Jason up the couple times he’s stayed the night at the Nest, or the things he heard Tim shout about little birds and broken nests when he was fear gassed. 

It kind of sucks, being your brother's biggest trigger. 

(Those three weeks may be a case of mutual avoidance, but Jason will never admit it.)

When he doesn’t say anything, Steph sighs. “How much do you know about when I was Robin?”

“Uh,” he says, caught off guard, “not much, I guess?” He knows that it was because something was going on with Tim. That’s about it, really. He asked once, when he was still new to Robin and the Manor. He didn’t ask again after he saw the look on Tim’s face. 

“Bruce didn’t really want me. Damian didn’t think I was worthy of the mantle, and took every chance he could to remind me. Tim was pissed at me for it. None of them wanted me there, and I tried so hard to prove them wrong. To be the Robin I knew I could be.”

That…can’t be right. The few times he had asked about Stephanie Brown, Tim had nothing but good words to say. Bruce and Damian spent so much time wallowing in their regrets it was insane. For her to say nobody wanted her there, when her absence was a shadow that followed them constantly around Wayne Manor, was baffling. 

Steph looks down at the helmet in her hands. “All I wanted was their approval, and it made me stupid. I overestimated myself. That’s how you get killed in this game, kid. Don’t get too cocky for your britches, and all that.”

Jason is shaking again by the time they get to the Nest. He hesitates at the window, sending a pleading look to Spoiler that she completely ignores ushering him in. 

Tim spins around in his tricked out gaming chair, frown pulling oddly against the wide scars on his cheeks. He flicks his comm off. “Steph?” Then his eyes found Jason. “Jason! Thank God, we were starting to get worried about you. Duke told everyone to give you space, but…”

His mouth is too dry to say anything in response, so he just shrugs. Tim tilts his head, examining him, before looking at Spoiler questioningly. 

She takes off her mask again, lowering her hood and shaking out her hair. “We need some help,” she explains, and nudges Jason forward. 

He stays stubbornly in his place, head tilted towards the floor. Steph sighs. “If you don’t tell him,” she says, “I will.”

He whips his head around. “You promised!”

“My name is literally The Spoiler.” She bares her teeth at him. “I get that you’re nervous, kid, but I do not have time for this.”

“For what?” Tim says. God, Tim’s going to be like a dog with a bone with this. He’s never met a mystery he didn’t want to solve. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I killed Filipe!” He blurts out and freezes, moving immediately to hide behind Spoiler. She doesn’t let him, grabbing his shoulder and holding him firmly to the spot. 

Tim gapes at him. “You…” he trails off, slowly turning to Steph, who holds his gaze steadily. “The footage?”  

“I have connections.”

“Of course you do.” He rubs a hand over his face. “How are we playing this?

What?

“We keep going along with what’s been presented to him,” Spoiler responds without hesitation. “B’s paranoid, but he’s also the king of denial. There’s no doctoring on the tape itself, he won’t look any deeper.”

“And Damian?”

“Like he gives a shit.”

“True,” he admits. “Duke wouldn’t care enough to check either way, so that just leaves Cass.”

Steph swears. “Fuck, Cass. Do you think she’ll say something?”

“Yes. Ugh, yes she will. Fuck.”

“Think you can talk some sense into her?”

“Maybe.” He squints at Jason. “I’ll probably play up the ‘ridden by guilt’ and ‘will never happen again’ angle. He definitely reads it.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Jason finally says, lungs fighting for air. “I—I killed someone!”

“Not according to Bruce, you didn’t.” Tim tells him. 

“You want me to lie?”

“Yes.”

He looks at Steph imploringly, begging her to explain, but she doesn’t even look at him. “Chill out, kid,” she says, “We all get a freebie.”

“Damian got more than a freebie,” Tim points out. 

“He’d tell you it was his right as the blood son.”

“Stop joking!” He shouts, chest heaving for air. “Just—stop it! Why aren’t you telling Bruce? Why are you making plans to lie to him? What’s wrong with you?”

Tim exchanges a heavy look at Steph, before reaching his hand out to Jason. Jason takes it, trembling. 

“Plenty of vigilantes have to make hard choices when it comes to stopping people the law can’t touch,” he tells Jason gently. “I work with people who all choose different things. When it comes to people like Garzonas, who will keep doing it over and over with no remorse…it’s not a method I recommend, but sometimes there’s only one way to stop them. If Robin made that choice, I wouldn’t blame him.”

He can’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes, because this is Tim Drake saying it. Damian was the first Robin, yeah, and Steph left her undeniable mark with her cheer and wit, but Tim wore the mantle twice. He made it into something new, something a bit brighter in the dark nights. Then, after Steph, he made it into a memory. Bright yellow for her hair. Red for Superboy. Even after they both came back Jason wore their colors, because Robin was persistence, and spirit, and clever words followed by hard punches, and bravery and a million other things, but it was also hope and love and remembrance for the lost. 

He wouldn’t forget that. “Why are you so okay with this?”

“You know I’ve had to make that choice too.”

Jason almost laughs, but refrains. He’s heard the stories. “Never sounded like much of a choice.”

“It was.” His eyes snap to Tim’s at the sudden edge to his voice, and Tim meets his eyes carefully. “I was fully aware of what I was doing. It’s not something I’ll ever do again, but it was my choice, and I won’t have that taken from me.” 

“I don’t think I can be Robin anymore.”

“Well, we all have to give it up sometimes.”

“Are we really doing this?” Tim asks, after he thinks Jason has fallen asleep. 

Jokes on him, Jason doesn’t think he’s gonna sleep ever again. 

“Are you seriously getting cold feet now? I thought you loved lying to Bruce.”

“I don’t love lying to Bruce, it’s just—“

“‘—necessary sometimes,’” she finishes. “Whatever. Like you don’t love the thrill of it.”

Tim doesn’t bother denying it. “This isn’t just lying to B, Steph. This is—are we really going to cover up a murder?”

The room drops ten degrees. 

“If you’re not going to back me on this, we can go somewhere else. Don’t want you getting your hands dirty or anything,” she sneers. 

“You know I’ve always got your back,” Tim says. Jason thinks back to what Spoiler told him earlier about her time as Robin, and wonders if that might not be as irrefutable a truth as he’d always thought it was. “I’m worried about Jason.”

“You wouldn’t need to be if you would just help him out—“

“You saw him. The kid looks like a ghost. He looks like I did. Don’t—no, Steph, I’m serious. I’m worried about him. At least I didn’t have to hide that I killed the Joker. You think keeping this bottled up will be good for him? It’s going to kill him.”

“The alternative is telling Batman that his precious Robin killed someone. You remember how that went last time?”

There’s a long pause, and then he hears Tim hiss an exhalation behind clenched teeth. “Don’t bring that into this. Jason’s not me.”

“That’s the fucking problem. You were his golden boy—“

“Seriously? You think I was the golden boy?”

“I’m hardly his favorite,” Tim scoffs. “Jason is.”

There’s a shocked silence. Then Stephanie scoffs. “You can’t seriously be jealous.“

“I’m trying to tell you it’ll be different from me. Have you seen him with Jason?” He waits, but Steph doesn’t answer. “He laughs. He laughs, he smiles, he’s fucking…happy. Jason makes him happy. I never did that. None of us ever—“

“Jesus, Tim,” Steph says roughly. “You made him plenty happy. Damian, Cass, Duke, you all make him laugh—“

“Not like Jason does.”

“You willing to risk the kid on that?”

A beat, and Tim sighs. “No. But it’s different now. Jason has us. All of us. It wouldn’t be like last time.”

“Jason’s not me.” He pauses, almost like he’s debating what he’ll say next, before he says, “He’s not you, either.”

Steph stays silent for so long Jason wonders if she climbed out the window and left. 

Finally, she exhales. “He’s not you, and he’s not me,” she agrees, “but Bruce is always going to be Bruce.”

They sit in silence for a long moment. Finally Steph speaks up. “Are you really jealous of him?”

“No, Steph. Jesus.”

“You’re such a liar.” It’s affectionate this time, though, clearly poking fun. 

Tim sighs, heavier than the teasing warrants. “It’s not him. It’s not him, and it’s not you, I just…I was never able to give up Robin on my own terms. I never…I never got to feel like I was putting it down. It never stopped feeling like—“

Stephanie doesn’t say anything. Eventually, one of the chairs slides back, and Jason hears a cane clacking on the ground. A cabinet opens. “Did you want coffee?”

“What happened to those awful sodas you were addicted to?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t want one,” Tim responds, voice dry. There’s no indication of their discussion in either of their tones. “Considering the first thing you ever did in this apartment was go through all my stuff and make fun of my taste.”

“Fuck it. I’m feeling abominable tonight, I should have something to fit the mood.”

“Shut up.” The fridge opens and shuts, and there’s a quiet thunk like a hand catching something out of midair. Then two drinks crack open. 

“God, I forgot how awful these were.”

(some undetermined amount of time later)

Bruce: Dick you can’t kill Tony Zucco. Batman and Robin do not kill.

Dick: Steph said Robin gets a freebie >:(

Bruce: 

Bruce:

Bruce: STEPHANIE-

[misery-has-no-company-now]

The Mood at the Statehouse

Gov: Stressed.

California: Depressed.

Florida: Possessed.

Texas: Obsessed.

New York: Impressed.

Louisiana: Chicken breast.

Everyone: 

Louisiana: What? I just wanted to join in.

[holyjost]

Follow Celebrini, Smith in their FIRST NHL Game | NHL Mic Drop

[buttercupshands]

wait a minute

stop.

stop it.

[lalalenii]

.

[ruvviks]

// ocs as patron saints. [x]

tagged by; @katsigian, @deadrlngers and @devilbrakers, thank you so much!!

tagging; @mojaves, @dickytwister, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf and YOU!

– PATRON SAINT OF RELICS.

patron saint of remembering. patron saint of holding something close. patron saint of holding on for too long. for a saint, a relic is often a part of the body, kept for some physical memento of their holiness. they are all in your hands, now: does it feel like remembrance? does it feel sanctified? are the dust and blood as precious as they're supposed to be?

hindsight carries the gun of his deceased father, the last memory he holds of the past and of what used to be his family; he is alone, a vessel for all that used to be, carrying the burden of remembrance like a chain around his neck. he has made himself easily digestible, to fit in, to not stand out; yet the past clings to him tighter than the present and forces him on his knees, forced to worship a twisted and faux idyllic retelling of a place he can no longer get back to.

– PATRON SAINT OF HEARTBREAK.

not of comfort. not of condolences. there is a heart and there is a fissure, a fracture, something that starts to splinter and break open. you're the patron saint of the way a heart is rent open. the way it tears itself apart. patron saint of the rift. patron saint of the gash. when they say to "open your heart" to somebody, you are the patron saint of bleeding out.

erytheia is a grave domain cleric, and has witnessed more burials in her lifetime than any being ever should. she has seen the countless ways in which the best of her abilities still did not suffice, her healing more than often merely prolonging a life rather than saving it; and she carries the consequences of it wherever she goes, the faces of those who were left behind, the broken hearts and wails of sorrow like a symphony in the dead of night, chasing after the trail of blood left by her bleeding heart.

– PATRON SAINT OF BLOOD.

patron saint of the life that flows through our bodies. patron saint of violence. patron saint of love. something that does not watch over but exists within: not for protection but for vitality. there is no passion without a beating heart at its core. when that heart breaks open, someone has to be responsible for what it bleeds.

juniper is full of life, full of passion. her heart hungers and beats viciously within her ribcage, threatening to burst out; all of which shows in her unexpected ferocity in battle, as well as in the way her hands hold the waist of her lover, whoever is within her reach when her desire threatens to spill over. a mouth that kisses as much as it bites, and teeth that graze vulnerable skin and dig into tender flesh; she is a predator, and gods save whoever becomes her next prey.

[sun-marie]

not a hardened!lucanis romance mod....... say it ain't so.....

[vv-ispy]

on one hand I totally understand tropes are popular but on the other hand I think Amos is a lot more compelling as a middle aged woman trying to figure out her life after a loveless relationship than a mother figure ya know

[astro-b-o-y-d]

How pissed do you think Shermie was when he found out about what really happened with Stan and Ford???

[wildflowercryptid]

potentially batshit headcanon, but i think it'd be funny if these two were related somehow.

[hauntingjasper]

We are all afraid of something...

I wonder what Prince Gumball's biggest fear would be?

There's an episode (Five short tables I think) where it shows that he's afraid of dying alone/his own mortality to some extent. I imagine that because he's long-lived and most likely has watched many people die before him, he's scared that there won't be anyone else by *his* side when it's his turn. There's no way of knowing when or how, he wouldn't be ready for it, so that's probably double scarier for him. He's an anxious fella

[waitineedaname]

he's so fucking funny for this