#and let him go

[scaryhagmother]

When I was a little girl I didn’t understand that Jumba wasn’t evil, and was never intended to be evil. I thought he was actually literally evil and he just liked Lilo, Stitch, and Nani so much he would take a break from being in his evil secret lab to give them presents and hang out

[opera-ghost]

[ennunanaiurov]

I just think Shang Qinghua should get so angry one time that he unconsciously overrides the System and unlocks Admin privileges and just deletes entire clans out of existance in the blink of an eye while going "writing you in was a mistake".

And I also think everyone who saw that refuses to ever talk about it, but they're all scared shitless of the tiny human by Mobei-jun's side now because they realize he's not just really smart and an amazing strategist, he's also a god and can kill them all in 0.5 seconds. And now they all think that Shang Qinghua is actually the one running the show and Mobei-jun is just, like, the face of the Northern kingdom only.

Shang Qinghua is utterly horrified when he snaps out of it and realizes what he's done (somehow??? He doesn't know wtf just happened) and how now everyone is terrified of him except for Mobei-jun who is just looking at him with heart in his eyes lmao

[hansoeii]

surprisingly, viktor is quite the hugger. Only jayce knows this, of course.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

conehead mantis elita one and bumblebee²

[shesin]

it’s odd, really; she’s never been in this position before, in this sort of limbo between life and death. not once has she even been as close as she is now. she can’t even curl her fingers, her limbs are stiff, some sort of faux rigor mortis. or maybe he slipped himself something? she noticed his blood smelled a bit different, earthier than normal— more metallic, but proceeded anyways. without heed, she flew straight into the sun: her golden boy. the love of her eternal life. even in death.

‘i have loved you with all myself,’ she murmurs softly, stiffened fingers cradling the gash upon her empty womb. his hand wraps around her from the back, chilled fingers curling around her throat, grip stopping the blood flow from the incision along her neck.

‘don’t lie,’ her whispers into her ear, boarding on a hiss. if there weren’t so many different pain signals firing throughout her body, she’d have registered the harsh nip he gave to the shell of her ear. ‘you’re here for a reason,’ this time, his voice is full of venom as his knife presses to her throat once more.

she hums softly, the silver of the blade constricting her vocal cords. she doesn’t fight it. she doesn’t fight him, just takes what he is fishing out. with the force at which he has this knife at her throat, she’s surprised he hasn’t cut all the way thru. what’s holding you back?

‘i’m happy it was you,’ she’s able to push out a few more words past his blade as he digs it into her flesh, streams of blood pooling beneath them. he’s quick to deliver the final slice to her throat. and with that, he lets her go. her body crumples without his support.

her mother always said that love would kill her. perhaps that’s why she ruled as she did; an iron fist, affection given so sparingly and yet it was still intoxicating. love will be the death of you. if she could laugh, she would. a big, hearty laugh, head thrown back, eyes crinkling at the corners sort of laugh. one that comes every few centuries: jaewoo himself has only seen it a handful of times.

‘put me in my bed,’ she whispers from the floor. put me in the bed we made love in. in the bed our children were born. in the bed we sleep in. if she is to die, she wants it to be in her safe place.

her eyes dart from place to place, irises shrinking and widening with uncontrollably. she can’t focus on anything, yet she can clearly see the combat boots in front of her. he’s always been one for routine.

he lets her lay there for a few minutes. maybe a few hours. watches as she spasms, blood gurgling past her lips and unto the wooden floors. even in death, he’s possessive, unable to leave her be without a watchful eye on her. who would want me now save for you, my love?

she doesn’t know how long she lie on the floor until she feels just the slightest breath of cool along her skin. she supposes he’s lifted her body, but she is unsure at this point; unable to see, unable to move, she can hardly feel nor hear her surroundings. she can, however, taste betrayal on her tongue. acidic, burning its way down her esophagus, eating holes in its wake. only he can make her feel this way.

she knows not of where she is or if he had answered her ask. she doesn’t even know if she’s alive at this point; this limbo is deathly quiet and cold. she can’t feel the flame of her spirit anymore. she feels frozen, as if dunked in ice. her tongue still tastes of acid, but she can tolerate it. everything is fading. she feels as though she needs to rest.

see you in your dreams, little one.

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Mike and Vanessa swapped vibes,,

[count-pudding]

Wizard Installer🧙✨

[haveihitanerve]

I have this idea/theory that like when Bruce was just starting out, early twenties, “im going to make a difference!” batman, he was like known, somewhat, by at least most of the crinimals, oh some dude dressed as a bat beat up larry the other day? Hm. skill issue. Type of thing..

And then one night, theres a goon on patrol for some little operation. A more… violent goon lets say. And Bruce lands in front of him, cape billowing, white eyes narrowed, and the goon is like “shiii he does look pretty cool. Fuck ‘im tho.” and he does what any other goon would do, he pulls out his gun and fires. Once. Twice. Three times. 

He sees the bullets make contact. Watches as they hit the suit. Go through it. Because this is still prototype four or five, its not fully kevlar, atp its still basically just cloth with some armor in certain places. 

The goon can see blood circles forming where the bullets hit. Blood drips to the floor. But Bruce? Bruce keeps on walking towards him, not a limp or waver in his step. Because its Gotham. Because if he wasn't willing and prepared to get shot at he should've picked a different city. 

And thats when The Bat becomes infamous. Because what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck he just keeps coming- i shot him three times-!

And years later, when Dick is on clean up duty as punishment for some elaborate stunt he pulled, organizing old files and plugging them into the batcomputer, he finds the file. And holy shit. Thats- actually kinda cool…

[snail-day]

Satoru never cared much for babies.

He thought they were sticky. Loud. Strange little creatures with too-big eyes and unpredictable emotions. “You can’t even do anything with them,” he used to say, half-laughing, always dismissive. He didn’t see the appeal. Not then.

But now, when those tiny, hiccuping cries echo through the house, it’s his hands that reach out first. His steps that are soft, practiced, sure, against the cool hardwood floors. He lifts them into his arms with a tenderness he didn’t know he had, whispering low and sweet as if the words alone might soothe them. “Shh… I got you, baby. You’re okay now. Daddy’s here."

The nursery is dim, painted in golden hues from the rising sun that spill in through gauzy curtains. And in the quiet of it all, Satoru rocks them slowly, heart twisting at the way such a tiny thing could cling so tightly to him.

Their little fingers curl instinctively around his, impossibly small and soft. The little fist moving to tug at his snow-white hair with an uncoordinated giggle, and Satoru laughs too - gentle and breathless and amazed. He leans in close and nuzzles their round belly, peppering noisy kisses between mock growls.

“The strongest needs a snack,” he murmurs against their skin, grinning as the baby squeals with delight.

And still, deep in his mind, something quiet aches.

I didn’t think I’d ever have this.

Didn’t think I’d survive long enough to want it.

Didn’t know I could be this soft, this full, this happy.

Later, you’ll find them sprawled together on the living room floor. Satoru still half bare chested and Hello Kitty pajama pants, hair a mess, baby asleep on his chest - both of them completely knocked out. His hand cradles their back protectively, even in sleep. His breath rises and falls in rhythm with theirs.

And as you stand there watching, heart full to the brim, Satoru stirs just enough to crack one sleepy, love-dazed eye open.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse with exhaustion and something tender, “look what we made.”

[demaparbat-hp]

He truly did.

[batfam-belfry]

ride-or-dies help you win rooftop tag

[demi-pixellated]

Shadow's No Good, Very Bad Day

[hinamie]

together, we do the same thing again //

[hansoeii]

main villain

[ktkat99]

Jason comes back from the dead and, as he's still a bit out of it, heads to the manor.

Crawling straight up through six feet of compacted earth is hard, especially after waking up suddenly in a coffin, so after he makes it inside, he sits down to rest on the couch.

And immediately falls asleep.

Hours later, Bruce returns home to find Jason's body, covered in dirt, dug up from the grave and left on his couch.