#he's in for an absolutely miserable time :)

[bunnieswithknives]

Creepy old guy

[olasketches]

two sides of the same coin

[lotus-pear]

do you ever think about how in the day i picked up dazai side b dazai had to lie emotionless and soulless—like a corpse, almost—beside the man that gently brought him in, nursed his injuries, held him while he was in pain? he had to keep those suffocating bandages around his entire face, lest this man gain some sort of recognition for the little boy he saved. he had to lay there curled in the fetal position, bleeding and in pain, perhaps thinking about how, in another life, this man cooked for him, tried to build up his strength. read to him to pass the time while he curled up against him like a child listening to a bedtime story. played cards with him. saw through the heartless mafioso. the ruthless killer. and instead saw a boy.

imagine knowing this man, the man who saved you in more ways than one, was going to die one day all because he knew you. because he reached his hand into the darkness and plaintively, like a small child wanting a parent's touch, you grasped back desperately. imagine thinking all of that while that man is just a stone's throw away, making coffee in the next room just like he used to for you in another life. the scent, although you've never been here before, is reminiscent of home. and the tune he's humming? it's the silent melody that plays through your mind seven years later, for the last time as you fall backward off the building with your arms out like an embrace. but, hey. that man is alive. he's happy, although he never knew you. you can die with no regrets.

[yutaan]

I'm late to the CQL Hunger Games (and congrats to Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing!) but I just gotta say seeing the ChengQing matchup made my eyes and brain go HUGE

[sidewalk-cracks]

literally please give Battison a Dick Grayson in the Batman Part II.

The first movie was about Bruce's journey from not wanting to be Bruce Wayne, to realizing that he does in fact need to be Bruce Wayne, and that Bruce Wayne can be a force used for good just like Batman. Logically then, the second movie should explore the next immediate question on the table: okay, he needs to be Bruce Wayne. So who is Bruce Wayne? What kind of man is Bruce Wayne going to be? Bruce still feels defined by his trauma of his parent's death. Bruce Wayne still feels defined by his parents' shadows, by his father's legacy. He still feels defined by his grief. How does he make Bruce Wayne be something different?

Dick Grayson would serve as the PERFECT device for Bruce to discover who he can be. Because Dick Grayson is literally just a young Bruce, and Bruce sees that instantly (it's why he takes him in in the first place). So throughout the movie, as Bruce tries to help Dick process his grief, he's inadvertently processing his OWN grief. Dick Grayson unknowingly helps Bruce process his own trauma, and through their developing relationship shows him that Bruce Wayne can be more than a recluse, a failure, a man drowning in his own head- he can be a protector, a friend, a parent.

When Dick points a gun at Tony Zucco's head, Bruce talks him down, and all the words that he gives him are words he had wanted when he was a kid and his grief was fresh. Even though they're gone, you're not alone. I understand.

BATTISON NEEDS DICK GRAYSON TO BE ABLE TO TAKE THE NEXT STEP OF HIS CHARACTER GROWTH.

[natelia-aldelliz]

Tiny something about accidental necromancer Soap and ghost Roach au :

Ghost catching Soap playing rock paper scissors by himself, with one hand, and gets physically slapped by the memories of Roach playing that game by himself. He goes straight to Price's office to cry.

Meanwhile Roach is cackling because he's been winning non stop and Soap is bad at getting in his opponent's head.

And Soap is distracted because he's pretty sure Roach is flirting with him on purpose to make him lose, because why else would he be flirting with him?

[mysticalallblue]

Mob Psycho 100 - Ritsu Kageyama Paci Edits !!

^this was far harder than what it should have been. ritsu why are you so miserable 😭😭

The Lil Brothers And Their CG !! (Reigens Trying His Best)

What A Angry Kiddo 😢 (Ritsu Will Forever Be Over It)

[902186]

we dont have enough fanart and fanfics about sauron in numenor. im begging for scraps im manifesting im sending signals to the universe

[angeldrawsstuffs]

Not me poking at any and every character’s worst insecurities and giggling like an idiot

[introspectivememories]

100% roger saw a jester outfit on on of the islands they stopped on and bought it for buggy as a gag joke but buggy ended up loving it and wore it everywhere!!! all this to say, buggy has definitely jingled miserably across the oro jackson

[littlestarbigsky]

me when i have to be an adult and i DON’T eat shit and die?

[akkivee]

this is so free it’s 3, aisle seats are based, i get free in flight entertainment listening to sasara tell his stupid jokes to jiro and kuukou booing him, kuukou and i can vibe over the lame airplane games and weak anime selection and i can just conk out whenever he does easy

[unofficialadamtaurus]

I am chronically unable to keep fics to myself so enjoy this thing that's been on my mind since I reread an old ask

Adam knows oblivion. He didn’t used to; for twenty-three years of life, it was a concept and nothing more.

By its very nature it is unknowable until he is, at once and without warning, exhumed from it. Sensation crashes through his spinning mind: the ground under his boots, the weight and feel of his clothes, the air rushing into his lungs when he pulls in a reflexive breath.

His remaining senses wash over him in the aftershock of abrupt existence: the oily scents of industry and garbage; the clash of steel and shouted cries; and his sight. White at first, it clears to permit him a view of the fight reaching his ears.

He’s in a warehouse. Some kind of shipping hub, judging by the towering shelves full of boxes and stacked pallets. On, around, and between those shelves are swarms of people dueling in the deep shadows. Faunus. White Fang, by their clothes. Brightly dressed figures occupy the centers of the chaos.

He’s been aware and taking all of this in for a mere second before he’s moving. It’s not his own will that guides him, not really. It’s an urge. A need. He has to protect the one behind him. He has to.

And so he watches in horror as his blade carves through every White Fang member in his path. The first few don’t even move. They’re staring at him as he’s staring at them, all of them struck dumb.

What he sees of himself explains their reactions as much as his violence does: his limbs and weapons are icy white and blue, trailing frost like smoke.

He tries to stop but his body is a machine that bucks his control. Corpses fall around him. The faunus are shouting now, screaming his name, except they’re not targeting him except to slow him down. They’re trying to get to the one behind him—

They cannot do that.

He moves faster. His face is carved into a snarl but it’s the visage of a beast with its leg in a trap. He can’t escape whatever has a hold on him. He can’t let them get to her. He wants to but he can’t.

He wants to close his eyes. Apologize. Order the ones who haven't already run to get away from him, from whatever puppets him. He wants to and he can’t. There’s a wall between his will and his flesh. He’s a tool. A weapon. Nothing more.

Blood stains his blade, his hands, his face. The few Fang remaining have thrown down their weapons. Held up their hands. Fallen to their knees.

Back away, he begs himself. He steps closer.

Sheath your sword, he pleads. He raises it.

“STOP!”

He freezes. The boy he’d nearly decapitated—a teenager, no older than sixteen—looks up at him in abject fear. There’s blood on his face too, the blood of all his friends Adam had just killed.

It’s silent, or nearly so. The woman who’d cried for him to stop is gasping. She sinks to her knees with an audible thunk of flesh on concrete.

“How?” someone he can’t see whispers. His skin crawls; he knows that voice.

“Weiss?” Another voice, less familiar.

“Who is that?” A third voice, younger than the other two.

All the speakers are behind him. All he sees are the four kids trembling at his feet. Not so long ago he would’ve relished their fear as a sign of his growing power. Now, it makes his stomach churn.

Blood still drips from his sword. He tries to lower it. He tries to sheath it. He tries to tell them to run. It all, again, fails. He digs ragged mental fingers into that wall.

The gasps behind him turn to disbelieving sobs. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—not him! I-I couldn’t—“

“Breathe,” the third speaker advises. “Just breathe.”

He endures another round of unsteady sobs briefly interrupted by attempts at steady breathing. The wall between him and his body cracks under his mental assault; his fingers twitch. The faunus flinch.

“I-I don’t know what happened. They’re always difficult to c-control at first but,” she hiccuped, “this was different. It—he—wouldn’t listen. I wasn’t even trying to summon him!”

The wall shakes. He gains control of his face.

“Run,” he mouths at the faunus. They stare. Glance at each other. And then scramble to their feet and away, leaving their weapons behind in their fear.

“What—“

“Hey!”

Adam spins and levels his sword at the red-cloaked girl trying to run after them. She goes still with wide silver eyes that fix on his.

“Weiss?” she asks.

“I can’t dispel him, Ruby. I’m trying!”

Dispel. Dispel him? He tightens his grip on this ghostly version of Wilt.

“Are your summons…sentient?”

“N-no. Not really. I mean, they’ve all been Grimm until—until now.”

When Ruby next speaks, the question is directed at him: “Who are you?”

His weapon dips. Past her, he sees the blonde whose arm he severed so long ago. He sees Blake. And he finally sees the one controlling him. White hair, white skin, white clothes. Revulsion rips through him, revulsion so deep it obliterates the wall’s remains and slams barefaced into the howling need to protect the Schnee.

[parkercore-69]

thank you J.R.R. Tolkien for writing the most devastating romantic subplot in your lotr books without even realising it

[dreamlogic]

aye can i get a fuckin uuuhhhh

break. on my burger

[turkey-sandwich]

finen't