#i never saw the signs

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

I do my best to be the girl you want me to be, this plastic coated, ear to ear smile and a laugh that makes boys turn their heads. But that’s her, your favorite, the one you drop everything for. I’m just the runt. Not good enough. Always forgotten. Torn apart and fucked up until you don’t know what to do with me anymore.

Can’t I change my past, see it the way you do? But I don’t live with demons. They just raised me. I ran when I could, far and fast until my legs couldn’t keep me up anymore. But you told me to get back up, reminded me that we don’t break. Reminded me that I couldn’t exist without you. Just you wait and see the person I become when the lights go up.

-Girl turned Barbie.

[future-crab]

It's been said before, it will be said again, but it's still worth saying: the fact that art centering on straight romance is allowed to just be bad, but art with queer romance in it always has to be indicative of A Serious Problem With the Way We Tell Queer Stories makes being a queer person making queer art deeply stressful

[qualityrain]

mentally i am still here

shuake week day 7: feathermen / goro or joker palace / free day

[flwrkid14]

Buried Beneath The Laughter They Ignored

Tim is totally fine. Ridiculously fine, actually.

It didn’t matter that he woke up feeling this bubbling, manic laughter in his chest, like everything was suddenly so fucking funny. It didn’t matter that he’d woken up from another nightmare last night, crying, calling for his mama—not the mother he lost, but the mother he gained, Harley Quinn. And it didn’t matter that most days, he felt more like Joker Junior than he did Tim Drake.

It didn’t matter that no one else seemed to fucking care.

He shoved down every bit of laughter clawing up his throat, because he knew if he let even one chuckle slip, they’d all give him that look. The one they always did. Disapproval masked as concern. They didn’t like Junior. They didn’t want to believe Junior was still in there, clawing his way up every time Tim breathed.

It didn’t matter that no one ever asked him how he was doing. They didn’t want to talk about it. Because talking about it would make it real, and they preferred pretending it wasn’t. They expected him to be fine, to push it down, to carry on like nothing happened. If he tried to bring it up, they’d say he was being insensitive—insensitive to Jason's trauma. What fucking irony, he thought bitterly. As if it wasn’t insensitive to be stepping all over his by not letting him speak.

It didn’t matter that he caught them glancing at him sometimes, like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to snap, waiting for Junior to come out again. But they never asked. No one asked what was going on in his head. No one fucking asked.

It didn’t matter that when he finally snapped, when he finally screamed at them, sick and tired of pretending, they had the nerve to act clueless. As if they didn’t know.

It didn’t matter that Dick, of all people, screamed back. Yelling like he was being unreasonable. Like he was the problem. He screamed at Tim, demanding answers, to ask what the hell he meant by Joker Junior, as if—

As if they didn’t know.

They didn’t fucking know.

This whole time, they hadn’t known.

They didn’t know Tim had been taken. They didn’t know Tim had been missing. They didn’t know Tim had been held prisoner at the hand of the Joker for months, tearing him apart, piece by piece, until Junior was the only thing left of him. They didn’t know he had screamed for them, begged for someone to find him, but no one ever did.

They didn’t know how much he had suffered. Alone. They didn’t know how much he had changed. They didn’t know that every time he woke up now, it felt like he was still Joker Junior, just wearing Tim’s skin.

And they didn’t know how much it hurt—how much it broke him—to realize that they had never known.

Tim wasn’t fucking okay. And it mattered—oh, it mattered—that they didn’t fucking know.

Because if they didn’t know, it meant no one ever bothered to look. It meant no one ever cared enough to notice.

[impactrueno]

(thread i posted on twitter copypaste)

i think musical bj and lydia have the most interesting dynamic of the three…they go toe to toe, seem to be in perfect sync without even trying, she managed to turn his marriage threat on its head by tricking HIM back, and then a mini redemption arc? we love to see it but this also means it's hard for me to think of interesting things for them, because they already said everything that needed to be said in the musical. perfect closure too. what else is there even to tell?

thinking about this again since i've been rewatching the musical over and over. the emotional resolution and closure they had was so satisfying after offering what is probably the best (subjectively) and most balanced (objectively) dynamic of the three iterations

over at tumblr i've been talking about how cartoon bj and lydia's friendship isn't as perfect as it seems, especially in the later episodes. it's so sad to see but i'm also invested in their potential downfall and how that would go down…it's interesting to think about

but hey at least they're not movie bj and lydia lol. what….a mess of a dynamic those two have now with the sequel. it could've been handled so much better. they obviously wanted us to root for bj a little in this one, but the cool things he does amount to nothing, pretty much.

feels weird sympathizing with THIS beetleguy of all three but wow not even a reluctant "thanks i guess" or anything? idk feels like something was missing there. just one of the many things that feel like they're setting up for a third installment

thinking so hard about this because when i write them i gotta think about their motivations, feelings and why they feel that way, etc and bj saving astrid's life and exposing rory as a fraud and abuser (in an incredibly satisfying way) definitely tipped the scales in his favor.

so i'm still figuring out how lydia would feel about all that. i have this scene stuck in my head of her and astrid talking about bj. and astrid, who's really only seen him do good things, goes "…really mom?" and now i'm going "welp she's kinda got a point, lydia" NOW WHAT.

if i were in her shoes, me personally, that would've won me over or at the VERY least i would've forgiven him since he made up for the bad stuff. and i keep seeing people who feel the same way… then again, the ending does show he's still messing with her so idk. mixed feelings

trying my hardest to work with what canon gave us if you couldn't tell lol. sloppy as it was. i will try to make sense of it so i can do my stupid little comics

i guess at least she let him down easy lmao. as sarcastic her "look i'm sorry things didn't work out between us but the 600 year gap is a little much for me" line was. but he's not gonna give up that easily, is he? of course not. he's beetlejuice. he's gonna be annoying forever.

none of this would be such an issue if they had given them more screentime together to let their dynamic cook a bit and actually see how they get along 😑 hmph

anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk im done now

[lioniheart]

I'm so sorry about saying this and thinking this of my fellow fandom goers but can we be honest rn?? Bucktommy shippers are being so freaking dramatic. They're acting like this is the biggest betrayal possible to the queer community and like???? Guys it was so obviously a plot device of a relationship, c'mon man. There was so little development in that relationship and in Tommy's character. I really don't see how they got this convinced they would get married or something.

[atsumutu]

The rain hasn’t stopped all day. Somewhere down the line, the steady patter of raindrops had filtered into background noise, lending you a sense of company in your otherwise empty apartment.

It’s only when a loud crack of thunder pierces through the calm that you’re pulled out of your daze, attention snapping towards your phone when the screen lights up to notify you of a message from the very person you’d been so lost in thought over. Your fingers snatch the device from the coffee table, quickly unlocking it to find a voice note waiting for you. Without wasting a second, you press play.

“Hey baby,” your lips pull up instantaneously at the familiar twang, “Shit, don’t know if you’ll be able to hear me, it’s raining like crazy over here.” The voice note goes silent for a second, only to be filled with the unmistakable sound of rain crashing onto the roof of the gym, echoing loudly in the way it usually did in large, empty structures.

“It’s probably raining over there too, I hope you’re keeping warm. I've left plenty of hoodies for you - not as good as the real deal, I know, but it’ll have to do for now.” Despite his jovial words, Atsumu sighs into the phone. “Ya probably miss me huh?” You catch yourself nodding in agreement, eyes crinkling as a small laugh slips past your lips.

“It’s okay to miss me, but don’t miss me too much, I don’t want you to be sad all by yourself.” He’s half joking, but your eyes prickle all the same. Atsumu had been gone a week now and there was still another week to go so you were missing him, a lot. “If you’re feeling lonely give Samu a visit, you know he’s always happy to have you around.”

Someone’s calling for him but Atsumu continues.

“I miss ya, so damn much, but training camp will be over soon baby and I'll be back to annoy you for kisses everyday in no time.” You hear fumbling and some more shouts for your boyfriend to get back to work.

“Listen angel I gotta go, make yourself something yummy for dinner, i’ll call you after practice alright?” There’s a short pause and you blink at your phone almost accusingly, wondering if it had cut him off. “I love ya and I can’t wait to be back with ya baby, I really do have to go now. I love you.” His words are jumbled and rushed but you hear a quick smacking of lips as Atsumu sends you a kiss, cutting off just as you hear someone holler “Simp!”

The voice note ends abruptly leaving you and your apartment in silence once more. Except you’re smiling, your small giggles filling the room and it doesn’t feel so empty anymore.

[jamietwat]

Jamie and Roy spending ridiculous amounts of time together and Phoebe knowing about it definitely means that Jamie’s around Phoebe a lot more in the off-season when she’s off school and Roy’s off work but still being Jamie’s personal trainer for free (and she definitely likes bossing Jamie around just as much as Roy does and finds the ridiculous shit Roy makes him do hilarious)

And you know that thing where kids love to randomly go watch this, I can do a somersault or want to see me do a cartwheel? and then you just have to awkwardly stand there and be like wow whether they actually can do them or not (and sometimes several times in a row have to try to think of something new to say the fifth time they do the exact same thing and then look to you for a reaction)

I’m just saying at some point they’re in some park and Phoebe definitely pulls a look how good I’m getting at cart wheels, Uncle Roy! around Jamie at some point and while Roy just stands there like 🧍‍♂️ and gives compliments that gradually get more and more deadpan and debates turning it into saying how much more impressive that is than anything Jamie’s done all morning but he doesn’t because he’s 90% sure that would just lead to Jamie getting all indignant and competitive and proving he can cartwheel too as if Roy isn’t already annoyingly aware of that from when he was dying trying to keep up with Jamie in Amsterdam while he was cartwheeling and practically skipping

But obviously Roy not saying anything doesn’t matter anyway and Jamie turns it into being like watch this to Phoebe and cartwheeling too and turning to Roy after like well go on, tell me how good I am at that too

Roy deadpans somehow it’s far less impressive watching a grown man cartwheel for attention. It’s just sad, really

But Jamie isn’t offended at all and just shoots Roy an obnoxious smirk and insists you’re just saying that because you know you couldn’t do one. Even trying would probably end with you needing a hip replacement or something

But before Roy can even properly argue or say something bitchy back, Jamie’s turning back to Phoebe with a how about this then? But even though it’s her he asks, it’s Roy he looks to the moment he finishes running a few steps and doing a one-handed cartwheel

And Jamie’s like well now are you impressed??? And god, Roy resents that he is and he could make a dig about how useless of a skill it was as an adult and how that wouldn’t accomplish anything on the pitch and he’d just look like one of the kids that picks flowers on the pitch instead of playing or even paying attention to where the ball is, but instead he rolls his eyes and says yeah okay

And Jamie beams but he doesn’t have time to properly gloat and give Roy shit because Phoebe’s already bossing him around telling him that he has to teach her how to do that too

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

HEY REAL FUCKING FAST CHAT, I WAS ON B STAGE BARRICADE AND UH JOSH SAW MY SIGN ABOUT GRETA BEING WHAT BROUGHT ME AND MY GIRLFRIEND TOGETHER AND HE SAW ME, HELD HIS CHEST AND LOOKED SO TOUCHED AND BLEW ME A KISS!!!

[pogzhellopart]

EriKar dump fr fr

[aunteat]

T | Children of Satan One-Shot | Day 3: Eucharist for @vamptember WARNING: depictions of torture, religious symbolism, implied sexual conduct

Santino visits Armand in the dungeons.

Impossible to know how much time had passed without even the rise and fall of the moon as a guide but he knew it must’ve been near time for his next victim. The hunger was growing terrible again — not just bodily anymore, it infected his mind. He struggled to distinguish sleep from wakefulness, couldn’t tell if he suffered dreams or memories or some amalgamation of both but the subject was always the same. One moment, he was lying in the dripping dungeon of that terrible Venician brothel, near death with fever, and the next he was in one of the grand Turkish establishments, being fawned over, massaged with oil, stroked and caressed till he was blind with pleasure. Then he woke again in the dirt cell, still feeling the warmth of their hands against his thighs. 

He didn’t know how long he lay there, face to the dirt, grasping for the sensation when the chorus of shrill squeals finally registered to him. He rolled over and, sure enough, there was Santino, standing at the edge of the cell, with his hoard of rats like familiars streaking through the bars of the cell and over his bare feet. 

“Blood.” His voice was raw with thirst but he knew already that Santino had brought him no victim. He would’ve smelled it.

“A thankless child always asks for more than he knows he deserves. The lowest of vermin know only to take what they are given but you, foulest creature of them all, would demand more,” Santino said. Armand could see he had something in his hands. He tore it, ripping from it a piece no larger than a coin, and cast it at Armand’s feet. The rats swarmed it, crawling over his ankles, tickling his soles with their whiskers so, wincing, he drew his knees to his chest. 

They didn’t sicken him outright the way they might’ve a mortal but the sight of the hoard, the writhing mass of wire fur and fleshy tails, still left a terrible gnawing feeling in his stomach. Perhaps it wasn’t the rats so much as how closely he associated them with Santino. 

“You dream of whores. You lay awake longing for earthly pleasures. Do you think we have not noticed?” Santino asked. He sounded almost saddened, a priest who had listened to the confession of a grievous sin. The rats parted seamlessly for him as he knelt. “God has transformed your body, taken from you the fleshly pleasure of lust, and yet still you lay in want — always in want — and so I have brought you what you want.”

It fell from Santino’s grip onto Armand’s chest, the thing he had been holding. It was a severed hand, lean with long fingers and trimmed nails, bloodless and white but still malleable, still fresh. Despite all the gore he had seen, had created in his desperation to rid his cell of the rotting bodies, he gasped. He grabbed it to throw it out of the cell, but Santino’s hand fell over his and pinned it there. 

“This is what you dreamed of, is it not? The touch of your whores?”

“Get it away from me.”

“Tell me is this not what you asked for?”

“Get it off!”

And, to his surprise, Santino did. He lifted his hand off Armand’s chest and took the severed hand with it. 

“She said she would please me, this woman, even looking as I am. The whore would defile herself for a creature such as me,” Santino lifted the hand to his mouth and let a finger, her ring finger, slide into his mouth in a gesture that seemed almost obscene. And then he bit down. Armand could hear the cracking of bone, the tear of her skin, his vampire sense spared him nothing. Santino plucked the finger from his mouth as though it were but an orange rind. “Did you take Holy Communion, child?”

Confused, stammering, Armand nodded, “Yes.”

“Then you know what to do.” He held the finger before Armand’s lips. “Take it.”

His eyes were bulging, wild, trapped between horror, amazement, and mortal confusion. 

“Open but do not swallow. Even such a Eucharist would be wasted on you.” And when Armand still did not move, Santino tilted his head. “Would you rather I fit it elsewhere?”

Choking a sob, Armand opened his mouth and Santino, breathing a soft sigh, placed the finger on his tongue. It tasted of nothing, not blood, not sweat, perhaps faintly of the dirt from Santino’s hand, if anything at all, but the revulsion swelled in him all the same. 

“Do you see, my son? To hold their flesh in your mouth, to see them devoured by rats, this is how you will take pleasure in whores now. Do you understand?”

Then, as if flicked by an invisible switch, they came, the rats, crawling up his tattered hose and shirt, his chin, his lips, his very gums. Armand choked a cry, tried to reel back, to bite down even and sever their little heads, but Santino held him, squeezing his fingers so viciously into Armand’s cheeks that he couldn’t. 

He heard the snapping of their little jaws as they devoured the finger, their fangs scraping down to the bone. Their fleshy tails wiped his face and he felt their little tongues on his cheeks, licking away the blood tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling. It wasn’t just the revulsion — that alone he might’ve managed — but the indignity, the sheer cruelty of the act, he couldn’t bear it!

It seemed an eternity they were there before Santino released his face and the rats fled as if of one mind. Armand rolled to his side, gagging, spitting out the bones, the little hairs, the bits of grit their little paws had tracked into his mouth. He pushed himself up on his elbows and his body convulsed in retches. There was nothing in his stomach to vomit up and yet on he went retching until his body gave beneath him and he fell back to the dirt, panting and exhausted.

“Demon!” He heaved for breath and, once again, with all his might screamed, “Demon!”

“No, child. Nothing of the sort.” Oh, how saddened Santino seemed by this. He shook his head gently and laid his hand on Armand’s thigh. He tried feebly to kick him off but he had exhausted his strength. “You would still believe I take delight in this torture but I do not. Would that I could relieve you of this suffering… But what a disservice I would be doing to you. We learn, all of us, through pain. We grow into the beings that our Lord would us to be. No. For all the begging in the world, I would not deny you this.”

[stunie]

ZEVIE’S LIL ANNOUNCEMENT!

Aaa ok I saw others make one & I wanna add mine too > < I’ll try n keep this short! School and work picking up -> a little busier!! So that being said:

1) REBLOGS :

Please tag me! If you post something, I would like to read it— so 100% tag me! I don’t scroll through the dash that often, so I miss a lot. If you’re a new moot, even if we haven’t spoken, etc— tag me anyways! I don’t care what fandom it’s for ^ ^

If you see things you want me to reblog at all— moot or not, tag me. I’ll reblog it as long as it’s not super dark (I worry I might mistag & trigger some. This is still a DC friendly page, so don’t worry!). I also can’t reblog if the writer is <18, has no age in their bio, or has a DNI page that I cannot follow.

^ TLDR: TAG TAG TAG. As much as you want. If you’re shy, you can send me an ask or message (or discord!!) that you posted. If I know it exists, I’ll reblog it. If I’m too busy to read it, I’ll still reblog it so others can at least see it.

2) OTHER THINGS:

Writing: slowing down for Kinktober 2024! I hope you all enjoy reading that when it comes :> I’ll make a section for Kinktober in my recs masterlist too! It’ll have masterlists, resources, everything.

[unforth]

GOT MY @queerliblib CARD WUT.

Imma read so much manga 😭🥰😭🥰

[saturnniidae]

Often think about how it's kinda funny the way AFO tried to twist Tomuras skin condition into the itch being his inate need to destroy or whatever when he's had it since before Decay like. Dude it's just stress. Or autism. Probably both.

[doodle-do-wop]

In Nightfall when everyone was all paired up for Atlantis trips to try and find Vespera's symbol I just know Biana was spoiling her friends

Not only can she buy them a million little gifts and knickknacks while taking them to her favorite shops

BUT SHE'S PAYING WITH ALVAR'S STUPID CUBE WALLET

Yeah, thats right. Biana Vacker is draining her big bother's birth fund and he deserves it. She'd do it too. Who's gonna stop her? Fitz? Nope, he's turning a blind eye to that. Not his brother, not his problem.

Biana didn't let anyone pay for anything while in Atlantis. She kept saying "it's on me" while fully just paying with Alvar's money.

After kidnapping and torturing her best friends, trying to kill the gnomes, and much much more. Alvar can break the bank a little (a lot) for the multiple clothes shopping trips, the cafe visits, the trinket finding, the random gadget parts, more clothes shopping (the boots were totally Dex's style and you can't blame her if that tunic matched Tam's silver bangs), the rapidly increasing amount of furniture (Dex said the triplets broke his desk leg, it's not like she couldn't not buy it), and so much more.

[pinkd3mon]

maybe corrupted taranza (pink purple black clash design)

he graduated in serving with a major in cuntology