#it hurts so fucking much man

[missazura]

No one in the house wished me a happy birthday im trying not to lose it rn

[bunnyreaper]

vent post feel free to ignore

it's genuinely weird being in a place with no best friends, no SO, no irl friends...

while i appreciate everyone's sweetness i genuinely don't think ive felt more alone, because while im surrounded by such lovely people i have no one to call my own anymore

[lazylittledragon]

did somebody say dadkarios

[inkskinned]

he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.

except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?

at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.

except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.

about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.

he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.

[starry-bi-sky]

Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

[bertoyana]

charles and erik with each other: oh dear, oh dear. gorgeous 🥺👐 charles and erik with the villain of the week/the x-men: K1LL YOURSELF 🔥🔥🔥

X-Men: First Class (2011) | X-Men Apocalypse (2016)

[yayll]

~ a little something about the unfathomable history between you and Dazai ~

"Shit..."

It's raining, and you're trying to light a cigarette in the rain. How banal, and yet, it was comforting to you. That's just who you were, trying to change the outcome of things that were doomed from the start... Like your past relationship with Osamu Dazai. It was a strange little bond, a rhythm only you and him could follow even if it was almost impossible to truly pin his true emotions down. To really feel him as yours. If you were attracted to danger and misfortune, he was a goddamn car crash. Still, that never stopped you from dreaming of a life with him, a real one. None of this inconclusive and melancholic back and forth, cowardice is what you really called it.

Though you could never tell that to his face, because then, you'd call it love. Love you had no problem showering him in, love you ultimately felt pushed him away when he decided to stop seeing you, disappearing with that very love... with all you had. That was a year ago. So now you're a little tipsy, and trying to light a cigarette in the rain because you don't have anything else to waste your time on. Or rather, someone to waste it on. You take out a flask, and chug down cheap whiskey, grimacing immediately after you swallow it down.

"No need to choke down that disgusting stuff on my behalf,"

A familiar voice calls out from the darkness of the street corner, where the lamp's flickering light threatens to black out in an instant. A dying flame, just like your lighter. You're already frozen, and stare at the void where the voice came from, telling yourself this can't be... not after all this time. You get a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. You reply, voice meek and slightly slurred.

".. What?"

"What about what?" He mockingly calls back out, refusing to show himself just yet. In all honesty, he had been watching you from the corner for a while now, feeling a sense of sick satisfaction at the way you stupidly put any faith in that lighter of yours. Just like how you put your faith in him, and he squandered that as quickly as possible.

You look down, shaking your head as the rain washes over you, dripping down from your chin to your shoes. Every bit of your constitution is shattered when you realize you were a fool then, and you're a fool now. You tell yourself you can't let your heart warm up again, it needs to stay ice cold... What a joke. You scoff,

"Spare me the bullshit, Osamu"

You hear a soft laughter come from the shadows, and you wish you were six feet underground.

"Mm, I missed hearing you berate me~"

He says that so casually, and when his laughter settles, the rain takes over again. You look over at the flickering lamp post, as if you could see him directly, and roll your eyes, sighing. You call out, bitterly.

"Well I don't think about you at all."

And as you say that, the painful little ache between your brows walks out of the shadows and into the broken light, hands in the pockets of his tan coat, and soaked hair that somehow looked even better when it was disheveled. He clicks his tongue, and speaks in a low voice as he strides towards you, making your heart beat right out of your chest.

".. You should."

He says that like it's the most natural thing, a sly smile on his lips as he stares you down. He thinks you look utterly breathtaking even in your pitiful state. He thinks maybe he should kiss every little inch of your body for the rest of his life.

"Shut up."

"Oooh, that's the best you can do? Tell me to shut up?"

"I don't want to slap you in public, so this will have to do."

You spit back, your face twisted into a frown, one that's already stinging with the threat of breaking down into tears. You hate feeling something that's impossible, hoping the rain will wash it all away. Dazai smirks and raises a brow, his eyes are dark and knowing as he studies you.

You're exactly the same as you were a year ago. Full of life, even if you can't see it now.

"You're still so hot in your coldness. Predictable, but I love it. It reminds me of the time you and I-"

"What do you want, Dazai?"

Oh the way you switch to his last name makes his chest ache. His smile drops just a tad, and he looks down, looking like a wet cat as he clears his throat. His tone is sardonic, once again breaking you down as if you weren't the one making his hands tremble in his pockets. But he has a game to play...

"Just passing through, obviously. What could I possibly ever want from you?"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You feel yourself swaying, as if the rain was quite literally dragging you down... or maybe you were just drunk. Dazai finds it endearing how you ask such idiotic questions, that after all this time you still feel the need to know him. He slowly walks even closer to you, until he's inches away. His eyes soften, along with his voice, and a pang of bitter nostalgia hits you both at once. He reaches a hand out from his coat pocket, and takes the metal flask from you, his cold slender fingers dusting lightly over your knuckles for a second too long. He thinks you look even prettier up close, and decides to put you out of your misery.

"You want me to be blunt I suppose? Hm, that's awfully dull... I love you, silly."

It's like being staked through the heart when someone like Osamu Dazai says that to you. Your throat feels like it's closing, and your lip quivers ever so slightly.

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't have time to love."

A scoff escapes him, and he finds it irritating that you would say that, despite him knowing he's more than at fault for that very resentment you hold. Still, it doesn't make his own words any less true. He exhales, and looks at you with those cruel eyes, the ones that burn into the back of your head with scrutiny. He feels hollow, and it hurts deeply to feel this again after he swore he wouldn't let himself crave you. He shouldn't get what he wants, or else he'll wander the streets at night like a starving dog hoping he catches you at your lowest so he can pick up the pieces, and maybe one day not leave right after. Maybe he'd finally follow you home. You're weak, and it's rubbed off on him.

His voice comes out too pleading, too desperate, and too damn sincere. He's fucked.

"... Ah, you wound me... I'm making time on this lovely evening for you, no? Even if it's just for one ridiculous night, I'd like it to be with you. If you want to do worse things than just slap me you can do that too if it makes you feel any better. Kick me, scream at me, I don't really care. I have the time right now and we can do this."

You didn't even register when the tears started streaming, and you definitely didn't think he would know to tell them apart from the rain streaming down your flushed cheeks at the same time. Yet here he is, using his thumb to gently wipe them, the feeling of his skin against yours for the first time in a year is searing... It's punishing. You sniffle.

"Stop- Don't do this to me... Stop talking like that when I feel so empty...."

He flashes you a sad smile, a repenting smile. He almost looks human as he stares at you, searching for something. Anything.

"Then let me fill you."

He leans in, his nose touching yours, and his whisper sends chills down your spine. It's poison.

"Say you love me too. Like you used to."

"... I-I refuse to say it again. Especially in public."

"Say it in private, then. Say it hundreds and thousands of times for me. I can beg."

He nuzzles into your face, placing the lightest kiss on your cheek, and you can feel the way his lips curl into a smile against it. He wants to give you the kind of hope you only see in movies, but all he ever delivers is the carnage of a greek tragedy. Still, he wants you claim him as yours forever, even if he is a doomed man. Even if all you did was stick your finger in his wound he called a 'heart'.

"You always reduce me to nothing. It's exhausting." You mumble, pathetically.

"Nothing? Is that how little you think of yourself when I'm with you? Not only are you drunk, you're dense."

"I'm just saying. Us. Whatever we were. It was over before it even began."

Dazai interjects, bitterly.

"Don't say that, you're sounding too much like me."

"I'm just imitating you."

Oh, bless your inebriated lovesick little heart...

"You're nothing like me."

He speaks in a low and bitter murmur, as if not wanting to be heard at all. You could never come close to the atrocity that he is. The past was his mistress, it's why he left. But even in the past, he saw you too. You were there, you're always there.

He drops the flask, and it makes a loud sound as it falls to the floor, the rain pattering onto the metal making it echo. Before you can chastise him, he gently tilts your chin up and catches your soft petal lips in his, pressing into you as much as possible.

He wants to be so immersed in your essence that you become a part of him, selfishly so, and he wants to be a part of you. His tongue softly begs to enter your mouth, and the beautiful whimpers you make that reverberate against his lips cause him to wrap a hand around your waist and bring you closer, hold you tighter, as if you'd dissipate into nothing if his grip even remotely loosened. He needs to hear more of it, remembering how you used to be so embarrassed by how vocal you were with him before. He didn't mind it back then and he doesn't mind at all now, it is the most adorable sound he's ever heard in his miserable life.

You pull back from your kiss, a small string of saliva connecting your lips, and you look up at him, muttering as you try to catch your breath. You'd go to hell for that face alone.

"You'll stay right? You'll stay this time?"

Dazai looks down at you, eyes half lidded and breathing shallow. He smiles faintly and tilts his head to the side. He wants to crush that little dream of yours but he can't find the strength to slam his foot down. He knows he should pull away, he should leave and break your heart in hopes that you'll move on from the disaster he is, but he knows what you're pleading for. You're so naive, so goddamn perfect, he wants to laugh at the thought of him ever leaving you willingly again.

The overwhelming ache in his chest makes him realize he no longer has the upper hand in these games.. That he would rather make your dreams come true than to steal the light in your eyes... It's imperative. That as much as he denied it a year ago, he no longer has a game to play. He'll gladly suffocate in the warmth of your embrace, just how he imagines it every night before he falls asleep. He cups your face, and whispers with a familiar wink,

"... I'll tell you in private."

[bonetrousledbones]

update to the Playing Undertale With Roommate Whose Only Social Media is Pinterest situation: we only just got to waterfall and so far it has been a fucking trip

they have No Idea the significance of Flowey yet. not even a hint. they thought the sans echo flower conversation was about echo flowers

during the papyrus date and especially when they got to his room they kept looking at me and saying "THIS is your man????" which they stopped asking after the date. they have read some of my fics. i do not think i am any less insane to them now

they gave papyrus a valley girl voice btw. mostly because i had to beg them not to give him a mickey mouse voice instead

they didn't fucking know what skeletor sounds like

bc i know The Efficient Ways to do Things and they don't they've been reminding me of a buncha details & lines of dialogue I don't actually have embedded in my memory. particularly "PAPYRUS IS HUNGRY, TOO! HUNGRY FOR JUSTICE!"

they got the "Can I speak to G..." phone call. i have never once gotten that in any of my playthroughs, probably because i don't usually go up to that area but still. ik its not REALLY rare but i have never actually seen it Organically before so it was crazy to ME

Dogsong is my morning alarm ok. so when it showed up in the game and they realized they recognized it on a subconscious level they looked physically pained

Undyne's first chase scene scared the shit out of them

[the-final-sif]

what is your opinion on the situation?

I've been at work all day so I haven't been able to sit down with stuff fully, it also seems like Caiti is planning to release a statement later today with more information I think? So I'd like to get her response there, but based on what I've seen so far I think I fall more on the side of "people made some dumb choices and should learn from them" than anything else.

Consent is messy and it gets messier when people start lying or are drunk. In this case, both Caiti and George were drunk. From what I understand, either Caiti had a 21+ wristband from the vidcon party, or her friend group did and assumed since she was drinking with them, she was also 21+.

Honestly, when it comes to the matter of underage drinking, I don't think it's even remotely fair to place blame on Dream/George for that. The blame there lies with Caiti deciding to drink while under 21, and on her friends, Ghostie and the other person present who were both over 21. Unlike Dream/George, both of them knew Caiti and knew exactly how old she was and were letting her drink. They were also letting her drink with no one sober and no one making sure she got home.

Now, Caiti is 18 and also I'm not a goddamn square, I'm not gonna stand here and be like "oh no drinking at 18 clutch my pearls" but like, if people are going to blame other people for that situation, that very much lies with Caiti's friends who knew they had an underage person drinking with them. I feel like people are weirdly assigning blame to Dream/George for not like, iding every person they hang out with (particularly if she had a 21+ bracelet at vidcon, which would mean she already got IDed). While completely avoiding placing any blame on the people who 100% knew they were taking an 18 year old drinking without a doubt.

Putting that aside, from my understanding George's side is he believed at the time that she was having fun, and the most they did was cuddle on a couch with other people there. He believed at the time that everything was cool, and that she later decided she was uncomfortable with what happened.

Honestly, I don't really think that's an unfair reading. At this same party, her best friend was there and from Ghostie's own words, she also didn't realize Caiti was uncomfortable until several months later when Caiti told her. If her best friend didn't notice she was uncomfortable or see anything wrong, then I find it hard to think anyone else would pick up on it.

There's certainly risks taken here that I wouldn't have taken. I think that George needs to do better with checking for consent and maybe vetting the people you're hanging out with. Although I also understand that doing a full background check on everyone you ever meet is an absurd requirement and if, at the time, they trusted the person that they actually invited, I get how that shit happens. Per consent, given that he was also drunk, I get how it may've appeared to him that he had consent. I do think it's still something to work on, but I'm also perfectly aware that in real life, people are often going off vibes and social cues, and sometimes those don't mash.

I also think that Caiti's friends have been pretty shitty throughout this. They take no responsibility for having let an 18 year old drink and then ditching her. They are absolutely milking drama out of this shit and they have a weird obsession with blaming Dream for shit he had no fault in.

As for Dream, I don't think he did anything wrong here. Full stop. If Caiti's best friend didn't notice that she was uncomfortable or unhappy, it's insanely unreasonable to expect Dream to have managed that. He was also drunk and hanging out with people, and he had no way of knowing Caiti was underage. None of that shit was his fault, and his statement seems very measured and reasonable. People are trying to blame him for things that he had absolutely no part in, and the UK group are absolutely trying to pull that shit.

Overall, sounds like several people involved made dumb choices, I hope they learn and grow. Otherwise all of this honestly sounds like shit that should've been talked out privately and not tossed to the internet for speculation. Human beings are messy and will fuck up sometimes. This feels like a case of miscommunication and people making risky choices that left people with some hurt.

Again, I may change my mind with further evidence presented, but that's how it feels to me.

[seilon]

my only complaint about 2005 dw is that we didn’t get more episodes with gung-ho mortal baby jack harkness. absolutely smitten by that fucker

[beware-of-you-98]

i know, i know, jj is so fucking strong and she perseveres despite everything she’s gone through, i know, but fucking hell my heart is breaking over and over for her

the far away look in her eyes

the constant fidgeting to keep herself present

the way she only has the bare minimum amount of skin showing, even to where she’s covering her hands

my heart hurts for her so much and she’s forcing herself to deal with all of this alone

[mymarifae]

hsr's a great game it's like "hey here's this guy who's a cyborg cowboy of all things isn't that fun. look at how wild and flamboyant and entertaining he is! an automatic censor was installed into his universal translator when he got his rockin robot bod so he can't swear anymore and this is especially funny in the cn and jp text of the game because his swears are replaced with things like sweetie, baby, and cutie."

"also his entire homeland was wiped out by the intergalactic capitalistic monolith that's been cruelly siphoning valuable resources from countless planets with little to absolutely no regard for the residents. they spared nothing once their boss gave them the go ahead to use military force. not even his baby daughter, who had just barely learned how to walk."

"he never got the chance to erect a grave for her. or the other loved ones he lost."

[mother-of-houseplants-2]

fiona gallagher // the angry man in the house

[pocketpen]

Hello fellow Eugene lovers

[shithowdy]

realized a drawing i'm doing rn is almost identically posed to one i did 8.5 years ago of a different oc, except the old drawing was instantly tainted by one of the players featured messaging me asking if i could take it down because their abusive, possessive rp partner saw it and got jealous of them "roleplaying behind their back" and i said "nah" and it became a whole Thing that i should have walked away from at that exact moment but didn't and the 6 months that followed contained some of the most truly condensed batshit i have ever witnessed in an rp community already well-known for its batshittery.

... anyway i love my friends. so happy to accidentally redeem the pose.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

SO. TO KICK OFF THE WEEK OF SPECULATION BEFORE THE UPDATE DROPS.

last night i had a bit of a Revelation. literally. i borderline woke up in a cold sweat with this realization. the way i lunged for my laptop to scream at friends... ough. lets get into it

so. i do believe I've made a couple of theory posts about Barnaby not being quite as receptive to his and Wally's "forced" best friendship as Wally - since the show wrote them to be friends instead of it happening naturally. i thought it might be a point of tension for Barn. i thought a lot.

YES SO I'M TOSSING (almost) ALL OF THAT OUT THE WINDOW!

the bios state Barnaby as Wally's best friend multiple times over. it had to be regularly reinforced. their colors were chosen to mark them as friends.

but Barnaby - presumably - can't see the bios, he wouldn't know the scripts. the friendship would be natural from his perspective. how would he know otherwise? even if the relationship started out synthetic, i don't doubt that it became genuine. in the context of their world and perceptions, realistically speaking Barnaby probably wouldn't sense anything wrong.

the reminders to be best friends weren't for Barnaby.

they were for Wally.

i'm starting to suspect that Wally is Barnaby's best friend, but Barnaby isn't Wally's. i think that Wally's "best friend" is Home - or at least Wally has a closer connection to them / Home is more important to Wally than anyone else is.

i remember reading this livestream trivia (from theneighborhoodwatch's doc, if you haven't their resources yet what are you even doing?):

and i assumed it was for Barnaby's side of the relationship. but it's not, is it? it's Wally's? and it makes too much fucking Sense! it fits! i can see it perfectly! i can feel things slotting together in my mind due to this shift in perspective, and i'm scared

Barnaby probably thinks the relationship is natural, just like how he thinks he's a real person in a real world. Wally probably knows that the relationship is a role, just like how he knows he's a puppet in a false reality.

that leaves me wondering how much of it is genuine on Wally's side. i don't doubt that they really are friends, but how deep does that connection go? in the interview, Wally sounded excited/proud about having a best friend, but how much came from a place of feeling, and how much came from a place of Fulfilling The Role? how much of it is performative? how much of it is a mask?

i've been seeing everything differently. Barnaby poses for Wally the most because he has good balance and is good at staying still, not because of favoritism or because he's Wally's best friend. in the 14 (15 including the hidden halloween) audios, Barnaby consistently seeks out Wally and checks in on him. Wally seems more casual about their relationship than Barnaby is.

i'm worried that Wally values Home & You/Us over Barnaby. that Barnaby is second or third place in Wally's heart. that Wally means more to Barnaby than he means to Wally. after all, only one of them needed their relationship to be reinforced on a seemingly regular basis.

i'm confident that Wally cares about / loves Barnaby, but the question is how much? to what extent?