Me: I adore this character. They are my favourite lil dude ever and I would defend them with my life.
Also me: *writes fics in which the same character goes through some of the most heart-wrenching traumatising ordeals I can think of*
601 notes
·
View notes
(via the author, at the Ex Bird place)
13K notes
·
View notes
Alex: *Calling Lewis* Hey, Lewis, I'm sorry for calling you, but we need your help. I-
Lewis: Is the garage on fire?
Alex: What? No?
Lewis: Then there's no emergency *hangs up*
George: Well, what did he say? What do we do about the portal to hell in the middle of our motorhome?
Alex: Apparently it's not an emergency
Lando, being strangled by a demon: HOW THE FUCK IS THIS NOT AN EMERGENCY????
230 notes
·
View notes
Fatal Frame II - Crimson Report DVD.
424 notes
·
View notes
“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”
The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and the kind of question she tried to avoid.
Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.
“You a cop?”
The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”
A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.
Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”
A nod.
“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”
A nod.
“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”
A tiny, miserable nod.
“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’
“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”
Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.
The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.
“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”
The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.
“I can work with that,” said the witch.
45K notes
·
View notes
Jason: Hey, Damian, your momma so—
Damian: My mother committed multiple war crimes and is now locked in solitary confinement in a Bolivian prison.
Jason: Well, uh, your dad—
Damian: My father left when I was ten to go on a mission and consequently got lost in the time stream.
Jason: Well then...
Dick: Stop, Jason!
Jason: Your grandparents are so—
Damian: My grandmother floated into the sky like a balloon with too much helium when my grandfather spontaneously combusted.
1K notes
·
View notes