#my grades are shit

[justlikebullets]

i dont even think itlll make sense if i dont kill myself

[rice-ballin]

sry i’ve been gone mooties i’ve been grounded :3

[nessieartss]

student sukuna au inspired by this beautiful art by inkedberries (galaxy brain moment), please check their other arts as well!

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.

the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.

like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.

but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.

so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.

i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?

but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?

sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?

and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.

nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.

the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!

and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.

[choccy-milky]

modern AU seb and clora's first interaction 📘📗 (and by modern AU i actually mean super trope-filled high school romance set in the 80's/90's LOL)

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[starry-bi-sky]

Broke: danny runs away from bruce wayne because he reminds him of Vlad (bad, overused, fundamentally misunderstands Bruce’s character as a whole for a shit joke)

Woke: bruce wayne doesnt remind danny of vlad masters, but of his best friend sam manson

black hair? check ✅

jewish? check ✅

richer than god? check ✅

gothic? well, mister wayne isnt himself but he lives in the most gothic city on earth so quasi-check ✅

loudly and proudly an activist for various rights including environmental and womens' rights? check ✅

im tired of the "oh danny runs away from bruce because he's rich and reminds him of vlad" give me a danny who actually likes bruce because he reminds him of his awesome kickass best friend who is also stupidly rich

like i’ve been told about the whole “oh fruit loop joke” before and i still think its a cheap, shallow joke if i’ve ever heard one that flanderizes Bruce’s character to an impressive degree. Vlad and Bruce are only comparable in the same sense that they’re both rich and Bruce adopts kids — but he isn’t doing it because of the “adoption addiction” joke, he’s doing it because he sees himself in the kids he adopts and he wants to give them better than he did. Vlad wants Danny as his son to spite Jack, they are not remotely comparable beyond that.

Like, beyond that too i highly doubt vlad masters gives his employees benefits like bruce wayne does. who canonically hires reformed villains and has various branches of medical, industrial, technology, etc in his company in order to help the people of gotham. does Vlad Masters run charities, soup kitchens, etc?? is Vlad contributing to the community? No, no he isnt.

[synelven]

my take on an arcane university au (jinx and ekko are top of the class)

[fightingwithallreality]

The Enchanted Horse (1992) written by Magdalen Nabb, illustrated by Julek Heller

For @horsefigureoftheday

[flightlessribbons]

The different fixations I'm cycling through for my mental health benefits are actually insane

[arcanegifs]

God, I'm (yet again) exhausted. What a show. I will say, flaws and all, it's still one of the best animated series I've watched. Ever. No, I don't think it deserves the vitriol it's getting on social media.

I have a LOT of emotions right now. I don't think I'm even thinking straight after watching through everything once. It definitely needs to be re-watched multiple times. No, I'm not offering any kind of insights or anything like that. I think I'm just too emotional seeing my favorite show end.

I really wanna thank the writers, directors, artists, animators, producers, and everyone else who worked on this show for this work of art. It was beautiful, and it's why I love making gifs of this show.

And just because this show has ended, doesn't mean I'll stop making things. There's two whole seasons to work with now. I hope I can have enough free time to post regularly. I still need to make some 8k wallpapers and a ton of gifs haha.

I'll take a break and sleep for now. I'll see what I can make when I wake up tomorrow. I have so many things I want to do, but I also feel like crap and I too, have a life LMAO.

Oh, and I'm still looking forward to the next stories that they tell us! Runeterra truly has amazing lore. Excited to see what's next!

Thank you for all the likes, reblogs, and support you guys give to my lil sideblog! I appreciate you guys so much <3

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

“when you were at uni you’d do an essay the morning of the essay! i was so annoyed!” screaming banging on the bars of my enclosure so upset about how they’ve known each other for literally their entire adult lives like they’ve been at this married life shit for 15 fucking years i’m fuming

[angelyuji]

dear diary

bruce wayne x reader (kinktober week 4)

tw // stalking, kidnapping, voyeurism, masturbation, pattinson!bruce is silly and a cutiepie

18+! minors dni!

november 1 : riddler’s floor has left the city a mess. i can barely hold on, helping the people affected and trying to understand what’s going on with penguin. i can’t focus.

november 5: you’re pretty. you were getting mugged when i came. you looked pretty as you cried, arms wrapped around my neck. i asked if you wanted me to escort you home and you nodded so cutely. you’re apartment was as cute as you, every decoration was an extension of you. you’re so pretty, (y/n).

november 8: i broke into your home when you were at work. i wanted to be closer to you, i want to know things about you no one else does. your apartment smells like you, the shampoo, the detergent, your perfume. i felt myself get overwhelmed as blood rushed down there. it’s hard to keep myself contained. for now, i’ll keep an eye on you. just in case.

november 15: you leave your windows wide open; you always do. you drop your bag on the couch and start your routine. crossing the date off on your calendar with a purple sharpie, you turn on your oven for a store-bought pizza and head to your room. you slowly undress in your bedroom, standing in front of the mirror and checking your face. i can see every curve, every mark on your body. you’re so beautiful. a car horn surprised the both of us, bringing me back to patrol and you start to pull on pajamas. i wish i could touch you, show you how beautiful you are. i’ll come visit tomorrow, to make sure you’re safe.

november 20: the city was restless as thanksgiving neared. i guess even the darkness in the city would panic as the holiday approached. i watched you restlessly flit through the apartment, setting up couches and beds. one moment you were in the living room, setting up coaches, and the next you were in the kitchen, mixing things in pots. i wish i was there with you, helping you, meeting your family… i need to keep my focus on gotham.

november 28: i told myself to leave you alone, but i managed to end up in front of your apartment once again. i’m sure alfred will laugh at me. i watch you with your family, smiling and laughing. i need to feel you. fuck, i need to clear my head.

december 13: i caught myself watching old recordings of you. just one glance at your bare skin and i can feel my resolve crumbling. i wish i could bring you here, so i could just stop thinking of you all the time.

december 20: i dreamt about you. it felt so real. i could feel your soft arms wrapped tightly around my neck as i plow into you, desperate and aching. i woke up hearing your moans in my head and my thighs sticky with my own cum. i felt like i was 13 again, cleaning the sheets while alfred slept. look at what you’re doing to me, (y/n).

december 24: i got careless. i thought i saw you and i got careless, stabbed in the side by a scared kid stealing from an atm. in the haze of blood-loss, i hadn’t realized where i ended up until i saw your eyes peering down at me. “shit.” i heard myself talk without realizing. your warm hands helped me up, and i felt a laugh bubbling out of me as you shoved me through the open window into your apartment. every noise you make is so cute, i barely registered the pain. i felt myself hit the floor when it all went dark.

december 25: the first words you said when i opened my eyes: “merry christmas!” you smile sheepishly, i could feel your hands fixing my bandages. i felt the cowl on my head, untouched, but somehow you had taken off my suit. “sorry, google told me to change them every couple hours, so i bought a bunch of supplies while you were… asleep.” you look away. i try to sit up and you help me settle in.

“why did you help me?” my voice sounded rough and you bring a cup of water to my lips. i drink from the cup, water spills down my chin and you use a hand to wipe it away. i feel my heart skip a beat at the loving touch.

you shrug, “you saved my life before. how could i leave gotham’s knight dying at my fire escape?” i feel a smile pull at my lips. every glance, every involuntary movement, every word, everything about you made my heart swell.

i couldn’t trust my words, so i hum. night comes quickly and you put on a movie, feeding me slowly. it was nice, it was everything i had dreamt of. you are everything i imagined and more… you’re perfect.

december 26: you woke up, confused and scared, screaming at me. i’m sure it’ll be hard at first, but with time, you’ll get used to your new home. alfred had disapproved at first, but he knows how happy you make me, how much more careful i’ll be. i won’t have to worry about you anymore, knowing you’re home with me forever.

[zivazivc]

my brainrot about these two can be measured in liters

[literallyjusttoa]

"A Jester can mock, and the King cannot fight

For the gift of free thought is the jester's one right."

A sweet golden prince who lived up in the sky,

Listened to his families' terrible fights,

The ceiling would rumble, the tile would shake,

The throne room was fragile, and soon it would break.

He'd attempt to speak, but it never went right,

His father would rage, and he'd lose every fight,

As decades passed by, it soon became clear,

The King saw his son as a monster to fear.

The Prince quickly followed every command,

Only to be trapped by his father's cruel hand,

Years of destruction with no end in sight,

This war would not end with a large act of might.

And so the Prince stopped fighting fire with fire,

And instead he pulled out his golden stringed lyre,

Since he had no respect, he would leave the King's cage,

And swap out the throne room for a shining stage.

He taunted with wit and he giggled with guile,

And even his sorrow he shared with a smile,

His father's gaze lessened, his temper was tame,

As his once "Golden Prince" treated life like a game.

The centuries passed and the mirth never ceased,

The sun never set on the first son of Greece,

He danced for his siblings and bit down his pain,

Since each peal of laughter meant there'd be less rain.

There's only one role for which there are no rules,

So who is the jester, and who is the fool?

[nori-draws-sometimes]

the best way to solve art block is by rewatching saiki k for the ten millionth time. confirmed.