#waiting will be torture

[smudgeandfrank]

Okay, I won't be able to watch OFMD or Loki until tomorrow afternoon/evening, so I'll be signing off of my socials until I do!💖

Hold fast to your feelings, my darlings!! See you on the other side!! 🫡💖

[stillgotscars]

fortnight - taylor swift

[an-established-butt-dent]

"What have they done to you,

Old friend."

Trapped in the fade, Solas comes face to face with the remnant of his spirit.

The Dread Wolf was his wisdom, mirror to his pride. In the wake of the wrathful Evanuris, it too, has succumbed to their taint.

Or, where I'm making wild plot speculations surrounding Solas trapped in the fade. while turning my brainrot into art pieces and gifs. I'M PACING MY ENCLOSURE. Looking for crumbs and scrabs of Veilguard. Please Bioware I'm begging, feed me. 😭

[cametotheshowinsd]

I love you, it's ruining my life.

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT || April 19th, 2024

[solomiracle]

1000% convinced mc can just drop some demon's picture in the groupchat and say "kill this guy" and everyone will do it no questions asked

[kettlefire]

Not so Different. (DcxDp)

The stunned silence was louder than the rest of the gala had been. Every single pair of eyes were wide with shock, fear, and even concern. The last sound to have left the patrons was scattered gasps at the reveal.

It was meant to be simple. A new up and coming technological company had put all their savings into this. A huge gala to show of the reason the world needed their technology. Needed their help.

No one believed it. Truly, who could have? A large group of men and women dressed purely in white suits, spouting about the threats of ghosts. It was insane and impossible.

Many of the big names that attended today only came for publicity. The notoriety that came with having been there when this company crashed and burned in one night.

It's the only reason Bruce Wayne was even among the crowd. Accompanied by Oliver Queen and his own son, Dick Grayson. As much as Bruce hadn't wanted to be here, he knew his reputation was important to keep up.

That was until two agents stepped out onto a stage they had at the back of the large room. A thick curtain had kept the sight behind it completely hidden from the patrons. Until the moment was right. That was when the thick curtain had suddenly been ripped back, as a third man took a microphone and began to explain.

But his words fell on deaf ears. Especially for the three secret vigilantes in the crowd. Not a single person could tear their gaze away from the cage that now stood in full view.

It wasn't the cage that had everyone enraptured. No, it was the glowing creature curled up in the center of it. No, not a creature. It was a boy. Still baby faced and youthful. Too young to be in a cage.

A high-tech muzzle was securely wrapped tightly against the boy's mouth. His knees pulled tight to his chest, one arm wrapped around them. His other hand pressed tight against the muzzle, seeming to almost be trying to keep it in place.

The boy's toxic green eyes were wide, filled with a clear intensity of pain and terror. There were old tear stains on his cheeks, quickly being replenished with fresh tears. His messy, bright white hair fell into his face. The boy looked both like he wanted to look away, but also like he couldn't. Like he couldn't risk not seeing the threat coming.

It didn't take a genius to see the boy was in pain. Human or not, this went beyond inhumane treat. Making minds racing with thoughts of what else these people had done to the poor boy.

Bruce knew in this moment that this company had just caught the attention of Batman. Based on the look in Oliver's eyes, they also just collected the wrath of the Justice League as well. Bruce hadn't even needed to look at Dick to know he was on the same page.

It went unnoticed by any other patrons. All the focus was glued on the stage, on the lecture and caged boy. No one noticed when Bruce Wayne slipped his phone of his pocket. When he hit a singular speed dial as he turned away from the show. He brought his phone to his ear as he silently signaled his trusted allies to keep an eye on it.

[mediumgayitalian]

It is normal for infirmary medics to work a night shift.

It is normal for infirmary medics to work a night shift.

Especially if they’re in charge.

Especially if they’re a demigod.

Especially if they’re the most powerful healer in centuries and the Romans — and their war games — are visiting.

“Holy gods above,” Nico shouts, and trudges to the door.

The marble floor is fucking cold on his fucking bare feet (bare, because Solace mutters about his sleeping in boots), the fucking air is fucking frosty on his warmed skin (warmed, because Solace insists on piling his bed with thick blankets), and his fucking sword is far as fuck away in the corner of his dark fucking cabin (far, because of Solace, and his wide, teasing smiles, and his stupid raised brows and prodding questions and teasing dares).

“Fuck this camp and fuck Will Solace,” he announces, wrenching open the door.

“If that is what will make you shut the heck up!” Hazel shouts at his retreating back, pillow jammed over her head. Nico’s face burns bright red as he flees.

It is too godsdamn early in the stupid godsdamn morning for this.

By the stars, it is hardly past two. Not even witching hour. Last summer, Nico wouldn’t even dream of sleeping at this hour. Wouldn’t even consider it. The Nico of last summer would be awake, back straight, boots tied firmly on, sword held in tight, tired hands. Eyes trained on the exit. The Nico of last summer was prepared. The Nico of last summer was battle-hardened and vigilant. The Nico of last summer was badass, and not stomping across the stupid fucking common to the stupid fucking Big House kitchen to get a stupid fucking sandwich because their stupid fucking head medic is a stupid fucking idiot who never, not even once, practices what he preaches.

“I hate him,” Nico announces to nobody. Maybe the harpies. But they steer clear of him, because he used to be cool, and they’re smart creatures, even as they edge the constraints of his death aura and regard him warily.

He really shouldn’t be out this late, flaunting it in their faces.

Whatever. As long as the little kids don’t see and copy him.

He forces himself to soften his step as he approaches the door, wary for all his annoyance at waking Chiron — the harpies may be afraid of him, but the centaur most certainly is not. Not even when Nico threatened a real life zombie apocalypse if he had to clean the stables. (Which stunk. And the zombies in question were no help, because everything is the worst and sucks horribly, and even they were better than Solace, who sat on a nearby rock and laughed himself to tears every time he looked over.)

“I hate him for real,” Nico whispers, still kind of yelling a little.

There is no meal ready in the fridge, which confirms Nico’s theory. He digs around to make sure, shoving aside the Lucky Ranch Of 1998, tossing an empty yoghurt container over his shoulder, and elbowing aside a jar filled with nothing but brine and leftover cucumber seeds.

“Of course I remembered to pack a dinner, you worry too much,” he mocks, in a Texan accent as purposefully offensive as he can make it, “nyeh nyeh nyeh.” He barely manages not to slam the fridge doors shut. “Gods, I hate him to death.��

He stalks over to the pantry and fists a loaf of toast. He holds a butter knife as threateningly as he can manage, glaring at the peanut butter, and assembles a sandwich with his eyes screwed shut and his brain beaming a beacon of hate with enough force to hopefully taste.

“Hate,” he reiterates, then repeats it in four languages just to be sure.

He grabs the plate and stomps over to the infirmary, opening the door quietly because there are sleeping people and he is not a monster. He makes sure to bare his teeth.

Solace, however, does not even startle at the door, and grins brightly at the sound of him. Nico’s eyes ache from the strain.

“Neeks!” he calls, in a poor attempt at a whisper. Nico’s heart immediately softens.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he tells it.

Will pays his muttering no heed. Instead, he beelines for the sandwich, taking the plate in hand and beaming even brighter, somehow.

Spots dance in Nico’s vision.

“You made my favourite!” he exclaims over mouthfuls of peanut butter, which is disgusting. Nico is repulsed by him and his total disregard for manners and tact and etiquette and also Nico’s heart problems and reputation.

“I hate you and hope you choke,” Nico responds.

Will’s infernal eyebrows wiggle. He swallows, polishing off the last of the sandwich because he is a gross freak who eats things in two bites and is horrible, and scrunches his nose. His freckles hide in the folds of his tan skin, and it’s so awful that it makes Nico want to punch him. Gently.

Because Solace is bad at hand to hand, and Nico is not a monster.

Obviously.

“Thank you,” he says, and faster than Nico can follow leans forward and pecks a kiss to his cheek. Nico’s mouth opens. Will leans back and grins. Nico’s mouth closes. Will’s grin gets sharper.

Nico turns around and walks away.

“I really do appreciate it,” Will calls, cackling as quietly as he can manage.

Which is not at all quietly, because unlike Nico, Will is a monster and has no issue bothering his sleeping patients. Also, he wouldn’t know quiet and stealthy if it roundhouse kicked him in the face and stole his organs and will die immediately in combat if Nico isn’t there to protect him. Because he is stupid and Nico hates him.

And his stupid fucking melodic fucking laughter.

“I hate him,” Nico seethes to himself, and dashes back to his stupid fucking cabin.

Hazel laughs at his burning face until she chokes.

[nanihirunkits]

"Fadel. They’re the snitches."

THE HEART KILLERS | EP6

[ckducky]

Positively Torture

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, in the middle of a live-stream: Hey, Stevie. I was thinking about something you said the other day and I’ve got a question

Steve: …Oh-kay?

Eddie: The other day you said that your parents used to make you go to benefit dinners with the mayor, right? Mayor Kline?

Steve: Um, yeah? I think. They were donors. They campaigned for him.

Eddie: Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.

Eddie: So.

Eddie: Your parents helped fund you being drugged and tortured by Russians.

Steve:

Steve, taking all this in: Huh.

Eddie: Huh, indeed.

[kirumarythechair]

i find the fact that all 3 ended up uncertain of each others futures beautiful

[stillgotscars]

happy i need to forget so take me to florida weekend to all those who celebrate

[chanstopher]

Bang Chan | W Korea

[rookanisstuff]

Me posting my tragic Rookanis art and headcanons when these three just want to live in PEACE

[ezlo-x]

Every single time I see those twitter accounts that go “wind waker/twilight princess for the switch!!” This image i made a while back pops in my head once in a while

[casualavocados]

How's that possible? Since when did you start eating spicy food? I told you I'd do it for real next time. ...Don't touch me, or—I'll kill you!

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 12