#no seriously i need help

[leafn0t]

I mean-

[moonlightspencie]

did something gross thinking about aaron taylor johnson AGAIN. when will this end ✋🏻😔

[formiito]

the day after i killed myself ; dazai osamu

trigger warnings; suicide mentions, possibly ooc dazai.

author's note; first time writing literally anything on tumblr. haven't even finished bsd, so i'm sorry if this may turn out ooc. let me know how it goes. wrote this while half asleep as fuck in a warm sunny afternoon fuckkkk

Gloveless hands anxiously wrap around one another to grasp at a warmth that isn't there. The wind leaves behind a color of life on the cheek, a little mark of the stinging night. The world had stopped moving for the time being, yet there is an impending feeling of something to come. Something will happen tonight. He just ignores the vague feeling and continues on, walking on the narrow sidewalk. The steps on the pavement and the sound of distant cars is drowned out by the music currently playing in his head, the lyrics blurring the thoughts that flit past.

Now, Dazai should've been home countless hours before. And he was, if only for a moment, but as soon as the clock had started inching into the small hours of the night, there was a growing sense of restlessness he simply couldn't live with. The smoke tinged air of the room wasn't enough, the open window overlooking the street wasn't enough, and even now on the open road there is something uneasy under his pulse begging him to run off; it isn't enough.

But he's thinking too much. The brunet is certain that this kind of mundane insanity is simply because he has nothing to do at the moment. As soon as he would find a distraction, it’ll leave again. He's realized the absence of people brings about more thoughts than his head could keep in, as if to make up for the empty space outside of his body. A small message ping distracts him from his thoughts. Kunikida’s message, an attempt to check up on him. Some were still back at the Agency, settling affairs for the next day. His partner was one of them, though he would probably complain that his perfect sleep routine was thrown all out of order. Again. The message is responded to with a click of the button, a sticker of a cat sent in response. Such boring details don't deserve any merit on a night like this.

And it was so beautiful, too! The flickering lamplight shines over the glistening asphalt, city drenched in the afterglow of an evening rain. Dazai hums the song playing in his ears. Although that doesn't ease the feeling either. He wondered what felt more wrong, the absence of feeling? Or an overwhelming amount of it? The unexplained sensation remained in the back of his mind.

Dazai often avoided reflecting about his life. Atleast, about the things that lay under the surface. When he began to revisit the past, his new life started to look like something of a shiny new veneer painted over rust. The corrosion of the soul is all that’s left, and it is still fragile. But when he thought of the present, a lingering weight would still linger there somewhere between his ribs, a sensation that felt so physical for a feeling that should only exist in his mind. Burden.

But there is a third feeling; realization. Somewhere between sleeping and waking, in the instant where the flame burns the tip of the cigarette and creates the first ember. In the times when he catches himself smiling at a joke, whether someone else's or his own, and then suddenly becomes acutely aware of this short lived happiness and at that transitional moment he's already lived through the memory of that joy.

Then, it's gone as soon as it came by.

The idea of life is something fleeting, really. He's aware of the fact that for a man that covets death so much, there always seems to be a convenient excuse for him to continue on living. This paradox isn't lost on him, and the answer is so painfully simple, he knows. But for a while, he will continue to think otherwise. If only for those fleeting moments when he could feel life through his bandage wrapped fingers, the times where he was hit by the realization of this very obvious yet forgettable fact; yes, I exist. But standing on the edge of a bridge right now, looking down at the drop; he felt far too much. Suddenly so aware, without warning, without explanation. There is something tempting about such great heights, a siren call. The distance makes one feel so painfully full and empty at the exact same time; the chill in his bones no longer a product of the weather but that of an acute awareness of distance. He reaches out with one hand as if testing, if it makes him feel any closer to being human.

For there has always been something separating him from the rest of the world. Somehow this outstretched hand feels comforting. And when the song in his ears rises to a crescendo, he cannot help but want to close that distance, unable to resist the calling of that warm void. His eyes see that the ground is empty, yet at this instant he feels realization again. An acute awareness of life. As his leg dangles over the edge, the emptiness in his hands feels like it has been replaced by something.

And when he falls, it's not with purpose, but with natural ease. Falling as one does into a comforting hug, the air that whips through the strands of chocolate brown hair chilled, chest warm as it anticipates the coming embrace of death. Just this once he does not fight, even subconsciously, the depths that his body falls into. The neon lights melt into blues, and all bleed together to form a single, comforting hue. Black. The color of the void that called his name with such affection.

The next morning at home remains uneventful. When the sun hits, the empty cigarette boxes remain on the coffee table, the ashtray that lay next to it a dry memorial of a life lived far too long. At the Agency, it is quieter than usual. A lingering feeling of emptiness takes too much space in the room, though no one knows what it is yet.

When the lifeless body washes up ashore, his lips remain curved in a certain complete happiness, as the cellphone in his hand buzzes with calls never to be answered again. Perhaps in the pain that he leaves in his wake, he'd find meaning.

[iwonderwh0]

1K posts fuelled by pure obsession

Damn, I need help

[ms-alli]

It's such a long fucking walk. I'm so goddamn tired.

september is apparently suicide awareness/prevention month, so shout out to all the babes who thought they wouldnt still be here, love you all, life is hard but we continue the long walk home

[rhinestonesox]

When Senshi was young in the dungeon the majority of the adults he were with ostracized him. All except Gillin, who died to make sure Senshi had something to eat: unseasoned boiled meat that may or may not have been one of their comrades.

It really puts into perspective why he was so nurturing towards Chilchuck. When Chil reveals he’s 28 to the party, Senshi responds by telling him that he thought he was older. Senshi was in his 30s when he and his comrades got trapped in the dungeon, so it’s safe to assume that he thought Chil was at a similar age.

He met a young boy who was, from his perspective, forced to do dangerous work in the dungeon just like he was, and so, Senshi made an effort to look after Chilchuck in the same way Gillin looked after him.

Mind you, when Senshi was young in the dungeon he had to starve for weeks, eat the horse he loved, and finish it off spending the next i don’t know how many years wondering if he committed cannibalism.

Senshi understands first hand the value of nutrition and proper eating, so when he’s with the party he makes an effort to make sure they’re all eating a full and balanced diet. Not only that, but Senshi INVOLVES them in the process of getting food to eat, always preparing it in front of them and narrating every ingredient in the process so that there’s no doubt about what they’re eating.

[geekgasmiic]

Marriage is so scary because what if they don’t want to rewatch Dead Poets Society with me every week?

[kendyroy]

so i’m kind of obsessed with this part…

[nevermeyers]

I find it very realistic that Megumi wants to try to live for someone else again instead of for himself directly. I mean it. It will take him a long time to recover from what he has suffered, which was too much for a child (because he is still a child!!). At first I thought Megumi was going to pick himself up, but looking at it from another perspective and analyzing my own experience with mental health: it makes sense. Megumi needs help. And he will get it. Yuuji and his friends will teach him to live for himself. The ending of Megumi's character is a new beginning, unlike the others.

Btw, did y'all notice his scars are Sukuna's? The way i'd kms on the spot, poor boy :( he's going to live with the curse of remembering every time he looks on the mirror

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

oh hey! i was reading a fic the other day where Wangji was once misspelled as Wangu. which leads me to: MDZS Pingu-style??? noot noot!

Do you think love can bloom on the sea ice?

[47lake]

loser billie’s been on my mind lately

loser billie that will drop everything to focus on you

loser billie that has you as her lock screen, so that every time she gets hit on she can just flash a picture of you and walk away

loser billie that loves it when you pick out funny shirts for her like: ‘i ❤️ my sexy gf’ ‘i have a wife please get away from me’ ‘girls love my loser swag’ ‘i’m afraid of women’ etc.

loser billie that the main high point of her day is when you come back home to her

loser billie that’s a little too touchy in public because she just can’t believe you’re all hers

loser billie that gets so engrossed in her games and rambles on and on about them while you just admire her pretty smile

loser billie that likes it when you stare at her hands when she’s using her game controller

loser billie that gets so focused on her game or her music that she doesn’t notice you taking your clothes off in front of her

loser billie that follows you around like a dog on a leash

loser billie that will do anything to satisfy you, you’re her main priority

loser billie that begs to touch you

loser billie that would rather make you cum that herself any day of the week

loser billie that doesn’t care how desperate or pathetic she seems, as long as she’s pleasing you she’s satisfied

hope you guys enjoy this little drabble while i work on a few other fics !!

send any reqs to my inbox! 📥

💋: @vharperr @brat-at-the-disco-deactivated20 @thechipbetweenyourcarseat @dollyvuu @greenbttrflyy @eilishslut @karaeilishh @moralesluvr @anna-geeeezzzz @certifiedwomenlover @asterisk-eyes @mseilishmwah @eeuni @ohdoyoustillcry @bilsdillldough @amara-eilish @chrissv4mp @vijaxx @drunkinyourbenz @adinda-eilish @bxllxebxtch @mybluebossanova

masterlist taglist

[excarow]

Okay so, everyone finding out Tim lost his spleen is a trope I never get tired of, especially when people just fucking run with it, so hear me out:

Tim get's outed as spleenless because of a fucking zoom call.

The set up:

At first, it's a genuine slip of the mind. Ra's is trying to take over Wayne Inc, Bruce is y'know not dead, my man has a lot on his plate so he just kinda forgets to mention his missing organ. For a few months. (As unrealistic as this sounds, I love him, but Tim would have 1000% been benched cause of the stunt he just pulled, so no outside work for him)

Now by the time he realised his mistake he could either:

A: come clean and have to admit that loosing a semi-important organ slipped his mind and have to face both a disappointed Alfred AND Bruce (and honestly Dick) as well as be coddled for a long ass time OR

B: say nothing and deal with it himself

Like any self-respecting bat, he went with option B.

Now, telling Leslie and begging her to keep a secret would be the smartest and safest thing to do. But Leslie would sell him out to Alfred if he becomes a risk to himself so Tim does the next logical thing:

use Drake enterprises prior medical connections (they were a pharmaceutical company) to get the antibiotics he needs in a less than legal way and just promises himself to be extra cautious on patrol

Now, everyone (Alfred in particular) is thrilled because Tim is suddenly a lot less reckless on patrol and seems to be taking better care of himself!! Maybe he just needed a gap year galavanting off around the world, causing mass destruction and getting involved with the league of assassins to make him realise how important his life is.

This very precarious tower of cards comes crashing down when Ra's and Batman need to collaborate on something (not sure what. Maybe Ra's wanted to try to win Damien over, maybe the league is being framed for something and Ra's is upset cause he would do a better job than that) regardless there ends up being a zoom meeting/conference call. And behind Ra's is a jar containing a semi burst organ with the label 'my detective' on it

Now of course, Batman freaks (mostly internally but still) because this is Ra's and he has an organ??? And Ra's calls batman 'his detective' ergo, Ra's somehow has a fucking organ of Batman's??? That he keeps in a jar??

So of course Batman confronts him and Ra's is confused before ruining Tim's Very-Well-And-Thought-Out-Idea

('Well you flatter yourself Bruce, but unfortunately your title of detective has fallen onto Timothy. This jar is simply a little... Souvenir of our last time together. When he decided to blow up my base.')

And now Tim finds himself being outed as spleenless over zoom call while surrounded by everyone he really didn't want to know he was minus one semi-important organ.

(bonus points if they didn't know he blew up the league base)

[molzysketch]

when the bounty is only 5 million woolong

[emmavakarian-theirin]

it just makes sense to me that lucanis would be the one to kill the venatori mage and he deserves it

[roses-and-revolutions]

The people of Gotham both fear and revere The Signal. As they do the rest of the Batfam but for Signal it's a bit different.

For starters, he's the only daytime hero. The other Bats usually only come out at night when the city is quieter. And while it's far from asleep, they prioritize stopping the numerous crimes that occur in the shadows. Civilian interactions far and few. Most pictures of them online seemed more like cryptid sightings than heroes soaring through Gotham skies.

The Signal on the other hand was the people's Bat. They got to see him soar through the sky, or ride his bike in all his golden glory. He gave autographs, took photos, and joined them on their daily commutes. He was a regular at mom-and-pop shops, made sure the troubled kids made it to school, and checked in on the sick and elderly. And while he did work with them when necessary, he mostly liked to fuck with the police, like a true Gothamite would.

All in all, he was the sweet sunshine that Gotham needed. He was far more human than the others. Not that he was human, oh heck no! NONE of the bats were human! But it felt that way. Until you were reminded that he was INDEED a Bat.

The way he merged and appeared out of the shadows despite his bright yellow suit, and moved without a sound. He knew about people and things before they happened. And had an intelligence that was absolutely terrifying when thought about. And the way he took care of crimes?

The Signal is cold, borderline brutal, and efficient (with commentary that leaves you agape and a chill down your spine) when dealing with criminals. It was always jarring to witness the sudden change from Gotham's sunshine boy to stone-cold Bat, and back again. It almost gave you whiplash to realize that this was the vigilante that you were talking to about your puppies a few moments ago. And it really instilled the Fear™ that that bats were known for.

The other Bats were terrifying, shadowy demons that moved through the night. Stopping crime in the darkness. Gotham knew and appreciated this. But the Signal? He was the bright light at the end of the tunnel and the warmth of the brilliant sun. But he was also...

'Gotham's Darkest Angel'

[shurusphobia]

suggestions on what game they are playing are welcome