#this is what we need to protect you guys

[cecedownbad]

I was watching an edit earlier, on Leon. Look at this, because, just look at him, this is literally the face he makes:

He looks so adorable, I wanna cry.

[existingingrey]

백공죽 Expanded Version.

[shanklin]

Stanford never became friends with Fiddleford.

Instead he got himself a different small friend group who cares a lot about him. At least about the Ford he pretended to be in college.

A kind, soft spoken formerly bullied genius who researches very dull stuff in Oregon and definitely not anything weird. Their Ford would never break any rules or ignore safety measures [unlike that other student they heard about during their college years.]

And then Ford stops answering their calls and loses his grant. 

It’s time for an intervention and they start pestering Ford with letters and calls until he finally agrees to meet them at a science convention, but he’ll take his brother with him.

They’re relieved! Ford is with Shermie! They like Shermie! It's a good thing that Ford still has one brother who isn't a good for nothing selfish criminal who destroyed his entire future!

If they ever get their hands on Ford’s evil twin they’ll make sure he’ll regret ever messing with their friend. Ford is too nice for revenge. They aren’t.

Meanwhile at the not-yet Mystery Shack, the Stans freshly survived their own angsty canon divergent tale of two stans AU and locked Bill out of Ford's mind like a week ago.

Stan: I don’t know how long Ford will keep me around but this will be good for him. He needs some friends to take care of him after I inevitably get kicked out again!

Ford: I only agreed to this because Stan insisted and I still haven’t found a way to thank him and apologize. I hope all my “friends” die in a fire.

[whirlpool-blogs]

Q: Who do you think will score the first goal tonight? Jack: I’m gonna say… I’m gonna go: Matthew Tkachuk, or Jake Guentzel.

[moeblob]

He identifies as a villain and he wants to become a god but he's not doing the best job at being bad. Aside from ticking off the gods, he's done nothing but good - though claiming it's in the name of evil.

Himst: WHY would anyone of actual intelligence rely on such petty tactics as brainwashing or enchanting? So much can go wrong! On the other hand, I have a devoted following who will do as I say! (because he quite literally saved the lives of a town and they appreciate their savior)

[science-lings]

a traditional fairytale-type AU but Bruce Wayne is simultaneously the Knight, the Princess (Brucie), and the Dragon (Batman) but he's secretly just a dad who wants to hang out in his spooky gothic castle with his dozen kids and keeps getting into situationships with the 'heroes' sent to 'save him'.

[ineedhjalp]

Queer Joy? No. Time to talk about Queer Fear.

conservatives saying that the queer community is indoctrinating kids are so fucking blind. Back when I was a kid I was worried constantly. Like what if some gunman sees this pride sticker on my water bottle and kills me? What if a terf outs me against my will? What if my transphobic grandma takes me to church and sits me down for a long republican conversation? What if I have an anxiety attack and hurt myself? (I was 12. I was FUCKING TWELVE. This was my childhood.)

I’m done with this fucking shit. Queer people are not groomers, pedophiles, or murderers. I feel safer with a queer person on tumblr than I would with ANY REPUBLICAN.

queers aren’t killing kids, conservatives are.

pls reblog to spread awareness

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[hauntingblue]

Rewatching act 2.... yeah ISHA WATCH OUT FOR THE CYCLE ISHA!!!!! NOOOOO

[rated-rko]

i’m not going to lie… i have every intention of shamelessly and egregiously exaggerating speculative use of drugs in my fanned fiction because actually yeah you know what it’s my fanned fiction 😌

[forcebookish]

damn remember when ichigo went full hollow and orihime was terrified of him but when ulquiorra, someone she has only known as a hollow and kidnapped her by threatening to murder all her friends and spent her whole imprisonment intimidating her, asked her if she was afraid of him she said she wasn't

🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

LIKE WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT????????

[mosstrades]

im someone who stuggles not to let his curiosity and drive sometimes (often) cross over into an overwhelming and maladaptive need for answers, for explanation, for certainty. someone who, historically, sees making art as a primarily intellectual exercise. this is not inherently a bad thing, we all have our temperaments and this kind of attention can be a strength. but, you know that artist who makes a painting, and then only wants to show it while explaining it to you? thats me, sometimes, more often than i like. every story i used to write had another hundred page document behind it, explicating every single choice -- often i would simply read that, instead of ever actually write the story itself. the explanation precedes everything. the answers alone are the experience.

david lynch's work and philosphy has been and is a vital foothold in my efforts to learn to love the questions as our breath. learn to appreciate intuition and dreams, trust them instead of fear them. learn to see that the world has so much confusing, uncertain, strange beauty, that can be terrifying but turns sublime when you cease rejecting it from fear. when you embrace the unknown and dont try to immediately & anxiously explicate it all away, a whole new world opens up to you. that you need the darkness in order to dream, and you need dreams in order to live fully immersed in what the world has to offer. a foothold in learning to be okay with abstraction, with imperfect subjectivity, with uncertainty. to know it is not anthitetical to truth and meaning. know that to skillfully make ideas come alive into a work *is* to rationally pin them down, but that you cannot lose sight of the intuition they were born as.

his artistic intuition reminds me of what i need to have -- the trust and humility for experiencing the inexplicable and understanding that to be enough. a devotion to ideas and their realisation. a balancing force, for my endless inquiry -- to not forget to live the question in my the search for an answer. to allow some thing to go without clear or universal explanation, allow for some things to remain unresolved, allow for others to have that be their resolution. it's why his work equal parts captivates me and disturbs me -- i am very bad at this. but feel in my heart a need to get better at it. to be a better artist, a better thinker, a better searcher, a better person. you need to feel it, intuitively, quiet your endless noisy need for an answer and simply let it fill you up, let it resonate intuitively, and find in that how life makes sense to you and you alone. mediation, mindfulness, humility to sit with abstraction without trying to pin it down. more and more i try to understand this. some things don't need to make perfect sense. some things dont need answers, or their answers are not the point. some things dont need anything but to be experienced as they enter you -- like dreams do. that can lead you to the answer, and that can also be enough in itself. that can be just an intrinsic value in being alive to experience it. and so often, it is all in conversation with the search for joy. it's why he feels so captivating, so unique, so tremendously alive. why people use the word "visionary" when talking about him. because he knew how to use his medium in all the potential he could see, so that it let you live in the strangeness and questions. he understood them as sublime, he understood them as enough, he understood them as a joy. he understood them as beautiful. and his memory will remind me to do the same; always to seek the space to dream.

[tenwhiteandalusians]

and then no one said anything about the fact that if i watched ONE MORE episode tenax pulls a "i'm not angry i'm just disappointed i'm hurt" about scorpus signing with the white faction.

[good-beanswrites]

Imagine if in OoA, Fuuta wasn't unconscious when Amane showed up during the initial attack. Better for Amane since she's not alone, but probably much worse for Fuuta since he's forced to watch helplessly.

So... prompt? 👉👈

OUGHGH what a concept... You would think the near-death experience is what's most traumatizing to him but no, it's the fact that, yet again, he couldn't be the hero that he thought he was... Thank you so much for the request and uuhh sorry I beat up your boy...

TW for violence/injury, nothing super gory but I did try to detail out Kotoko's canon attacks

He’s probably never even taken a hit in his life.

Kotoko’s fist connected solidly with Fuuta’s jaw. His vision sparked.

And anyway, it’s his own fault. He got himself into this mess.

Her knee jabbed into his gut, knocking the wind out of him before he could gain his bearings from the previous strike. Kotoko had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night. He’d been dragged out of bed with a cheap shot to his face.

The voices in his head spoke oblivious to the situation. He hardly processed a single word they said, the sound drowned out by the prisoners’ shouts. By the ringing in his ears. 

He’s so pathetic. 

By the crack of his own bones breaking. 

So weak.

By the choked sounds he could hardly recognize as his own. 

So cowardly.

The room dipped and darkened as his consciousness threatened to give out. His chest rattled with a struggling breath. Kotoko’s arm raised, and he got the feeling this blow would be the last.

Well, whatever happens, he did it to himself.

She paused. Something distracted her from behind. Fuuta was left in a heap, his body unresponsive to his mind’s desperate pleas to escape with this chance. The most he could do was angle his head to see what had blessed him with this moment of relief. 

It took only an instant for his gratefulness to sharpen into panic.

Just think of that poor, young girl. She had her whole life ahead of her.

Kotoko towered over her Amane. She had flattened herself against the cell door. The flickering fluorescents above cast a shadow across her face.

There was too much spinning inside – and blood outside – of Fuuta’s head to make any sense of what they were saying to one another. He got a pretty good idea when Kotoko lunged forward and struck the girl.

And now she’s dead. Because of him.

Fuuta tried to pick himself up. He had to stop this. More blood pooled around him, but he no longer cared. All he could focus on was the new splotches of red that Amane dabbed at with her uniform sleeve.

As hard as he willed himself to move, his limbs refused. He thought emergencies like this were supposed to give you newfound adrenaline. You were supposed to triumph over the pain, not succumb to it ripping through every inch of your being.

Does he think this is one of his stupid video games? This is real life. He’s nothing special. 

He dragged himself an inch or two forward, and that was all. He could only watch helplessly as Kotoko attacked again. Amane sank to the ground after a few harsh kicks to her legs. She lifted her arms to block her face. 

If he wanted to help society, he should have protected people. He should have protected that girl.

Fuuta had never begged for anything in his life before. 

He opened his mouth to beg Kotoko to stop. 

But his body was doing everything in its power to sabotage him. His words dissolved into wheezing coughs. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t save anyone.

He hasn’t done anything useful with his life. Worthless.

Darkness invaded his vision. The horrible sounds within the cell grew more and more distant.  

Amane was thrown to the ground nearby. She lay close enough for him to reach his arm towards her, though still out of his grasp. Her eyes were trained on him. He wished he had the voice to scream at her to look away – to turn her attention to Kotoko, and not the failure of a man who wasn’t going to help her. 

All he could do was hold her gaze until his own eyes slipped shut.

Some hero he was.

Just before the world disappeared around him, he felt warm fingers interlock with his, and squeeze.

[badolmen]

I can fix him*

*bad writing, underutilized gameplay mechanics, characters with unfulfilled potential, funded by bootlickers

[anotherpapercut]

if you think there should be an upper age limit for holding office your politics are based on finding the right people to discriminate against and you're annoying. there are other far better ways to determine if a person is competent enough to hold office