#you freaks. stop.

[alchemiclee]

I used to always hide what I like and dislike. never share my opinions. try to align myself with other people to make them happy. try to like what they like or pretend to. but I decided to stop doing that at some point because it was exhausting. it did work for a while. it made people happy and like me more for s short time. but never lasted. especially since I can't keel.up the charade forever. so was kind of pointless in the end....

but then sometimes i remember why I did it. so many times that I don't do it it leads to bad interactions that really affect me negatively. sometimes when I state my opinion or likes/dislikes and it contrasts with someone else, it makes them lash out at me????? they act like i'm trying to personally attack them??? even if i'm not saying it directly to them or it has nothing to do with them?? they get so offended or upset and start lecturing me or getting really angry in my replies or dms. and i'm internally like. can you shut up and leave me alone lmao. but of course I hate conflict and stuff so I go back into "pleasing" mode and try to "explain" and find an explanation that calms them the fuck down because I don't want to deal with their offended asses. they cant accept that I have my own options and preferences and it isnt meant to offend them. and sometimes they'll even try to twist my words to mean something bad in general so they can justify their offense and it makes no sense to me. ugh. leave me alone 😭

[roach-works]

'can we normalize this'

'we need to normalize that'

can you all shut the fuck up for a minute and reconsider how constantly demanding normalization only retrenches the moral position that weird = bad?

like no you're not actually going to be able to normalize a lot of stuff, because it's statistically unusual or aberrant. you can't normalize shit that is not by any definition normal.

what you need to do is fucking stand up for the weirdos, freaks, and deviants, and remind everyone who is normal that their position just makes them normal. not good, not right, not correct, not better, not perfect, not beyond reproach or improvement.

being weird isn't bad. stop normalizing that, already.

[lilybug-02]

Let's hope the second conversation ends better

Bug Fact: Rolly Pollies have a marsupium pouch on their underside to carry eggs and young (similar to kangaroos). Hatched young grow by eating the marsupial fluid before leaving out into the world.

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[goldcleaver]

what in the Yearning is this

[arrimorr]

Whatever the hell Bill and Ford have going on in the books is so funny to me because, like, we have Journal 3 where Ford spends some time one-sidedly pinning over that asshole and the Book of Bill has Bill one-sidedly moping over Ford AND IN ANY OTHER, NORMAL SITUATION that would make this weird clusterfuck of a relationship mutual but somehow it still always stays one sided, if you get what I mean

[shepscapades]

Contrary to popular belief etho and bdubs are not divorced and in this essay I will

[horsemeatluvr23]

i had a dream where etho accidentally called bdubs 'john' on stream,, and in retaliation bdubs said 'yes horace'..... and that's how we found out etho's real name is freaking. Horace.

[redfirefox-55]

Drew this in like 10 minutes then me an my sister thought it was so funny I set it to my Lock Screen and now he keeps jump scaring me

[thefloatingstone]

The older I get and the more terrible takes I see the more in favour I become of gatekeeping

[marciaillust]

I added some colours to her :)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

crusty evolution redraw. in theory.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[torchtour]

me when the game has themes of failing bodily autonomy and disregarded consent and the horrors of having unreliable caretakers and

[parkercore-69]

hey its the cute, marketable versions of sam and max!!

[pinguwuuuu]

“Think the evidence speaks for itself, Darlin’”

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DON’T look at me like that. I am a woman with a weak constitution.

This is, once again, inspired by a @sexintheseireitei fic, “Shinji Wears The Pant(ies) in This Relationship (NSFW)”. GO. READ. IT.

Its also inspired by that meme I reblogged from @toxictaicho showing the underwear he would wear.

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai and his tantrums ~

"... Hmph. I hope you crash this car and we both die."

The moody brunet mutters under his breath as he looks out of the car window, his arms crossed over his chest, refusing to look at you. He was awfully cute whenever he did this, and oh so vexing at the same time. You learned to acclimate to this very early into your relationship with him.

"What? All I said was that I was going to be driving us, Osamu!"

Your laugh is light hearted as you focus on the road ahead, dismissing his whiny behavior for another one of his... Melodramatic performances, his co-workers once called it. He finally turns to glare at you, but a wicked glint in his narrowed eyes betrays him... You can tell he's more unserious than anything. Playful, even. And besides, he would never actually be upset with you, he just can't stop thinking up schemes to make you roll your eyes at him. Your smile alone makes his thoughts impure, shame on you!

"Yeah, well... I feel dehumanized! overlooked! neglected..." He feigns offense, sighing heavily as he slouches into the passenger seat. He places a bandaged arm over his face, groaning softly but still side eyeing you to check if you're looking at him or not.

"You do that all on your own, silly."

"Excuse me? I'm expressing my grievances and you're calling me silly? Oh, so that's what this is really about. You don't love me anymore! What a cruel beauty you are..."

He gasps, now burying his face into the crook of his elbow, pretending to weep as he mumbles incoherent nonsense about how much you mistreat him. In actuality, he was giddy as hell. You park the car, and turn to face him, a coy smile flashes on your lips.

"Nobody said anything about not loving you. Now, what can I do to fix this, Mm?"

He lifts his head up, suddenly composed and shrugging his shoulders as if nothing ever happened, speaking in a matter of fact voice that somehow deepened.

"Well, definitely don't let me drive. I don't even have a license. I'd kill us in an instant."

"... Then why argue about it?!"

"Because you look so beautiful when you're yelling at me. And you make me feel alive. Anddd, because I'm bored~"

He flashes you a cheeky grin, it's dreamy and sickening. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he leans over the seat and flicks away a stray hair from your face. Dazai then taps the tip of your nose, slowly dragging his finger down to your plush bottom lip, gently flipping it over to expose your teeth. The pad of his finger gently swirls against your canines, and finally, retreats... He knows there's a time and place for his worship prodding. His eyes travel back up to yours, and you can swear they look darker than usual. If only the Port Mafia could see what became of the Demon Prodigy... A new man reborn! A man who loves!

The rest of the day is spent with you indulging Dazai, something along the lines of 'reparations' is what he calls it. Only he knows how much it means to him that you can handle him during his calculated outbursts... or rather harmless tests to prove you won't leave him at the first sign of trouble. He needs you to be in it for the longhaul, just like he is. It's deceptive, but no one has to know! He just loves you and these are simply counter measures. You'd probably call him selfish, but as long as you call him at all, he doesn't give a shit. Because in the grand scheme of things, he really can't drive, and you two are inevitably endgame.

You're the ball, and he's your chain.