#deaths scary as FUCK

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[poetryinsepiatones]

Roadkill Prophet

Death sat in crows and vultures

Burying their heads into the carcasses

Laid in asphalt graves on the side of the road

And when they looked up

Their bald heads transparent for a moment

So you could see Death's bones and blood

Shining in their face

Death was much more real

Till you drove past

And It flew away on rotting wings

Death lay splattered underneath car tires

Apathetic as they chased the white and yellow lines

Oblivious to the carnage in their wake

Yet somehow still hitting

The same body again and again

Till it became nothing more than a smear

A greasy memory on a commute

Only remembered at its freshest

With empty sockets

Bloody roads

And disgust at that dirtying

The lowest belly of the car

Death screamed in shiny eyes

That balked and dilated in the holy high beams

And teared up at roaring engines.

Proud, high crowned bucks and

Cowardly possums crawling across the road

Met with the same curses

Hearts stammering the same beat

Bodies frozen with the same fear

Splayed on the same sides of the road

But never in the same grave

Never in the same thought

Only revulsion for what was left behind

Death perches in the trees.

As you climb out the driver's side,

Panicked voice catching between trunks and stars.

Bald heads turn in unison

Watching you approach the corpse ripped in half

On the double yellow line

Bones and blood flickering under the flashlight's beam.

Death coats the bottom of your car.

It spills out from under the headlights

Paints the pavement in red

And drowns the tires

Dipping into every groove and peak

Leaving vicious fingerprints on the road.

Death floods the eyes.

There is no recognition of light or person

They don't even blink.

But the chest is still stuttering,

The hooves twitch and thrash

Its high and mighty crown scrapes painfully

But you take no steps closer

Not when it stares at the Devil

And you stand in his place

Death brushes your tense shoulder.

Trickles a finger down your shocked and rigid spine

Strokes your tear stained cheek gently.

Whispers into your ear

"Remember

You are lucky."

[just-null]

are you oka- oh.

[cuubism]

dream and hob are really just that post that was like 'introverts only make friends when an extrovert forcibly adopts them'

[bacchuschucklefuck]

love thinking kipperlilly spends her afterlife looking for lucy in a familiar forest

[daemon-in-my-head]

As much as some of the stuff in Realms lore is messed up or has some very clear very outdated views on shit, the way they wrote evil cults and their motivations is actually pretty nice nd I'll give em that.

Like we've got Shar, lady of loss, who appeals to all those people who experienced something unimaginable and want to forget that experience.

Bane, a self made guy, who appeals to all those who came to resent the status quo nd were made to feel powerless, who's cult establishes the idea that everyone can become the game master and rise as long as they're dedicated enough but also gives excuses to the already powerful for abusing their power.

Myrkul who appeals to people in a similar way Shar does, but he has and grants the ability to reverse the loss. Reunite with those you lost before you arrive in the afterlife yourself. Don't fear death because your life will continue the same way it was before even if you die. Basically my guy offers a solution to the whole being afraid of death bit

But the most fucked up one is arguably Bhaal, who targets a very spefic group of people that deem life to be hopeless and death to be the better choice, and introduces them to the idea that this warped mindset is a fact and by killing someone you show them mercy and you can become their hero.

Like these are definitely not the healthiest claims those cults make, and any 'normal' individual would look at u like u have issues if you presented these ideas to them. Still, for a (not very) small group of people, these thoughts validate them in their feelings and struggles and offer a twisted understanding. And that is why recruitment works, and these definitely not-so-nice cults manage to survive and thrive at times. Because they very purposefully target individuals that could be easily manipulated if offered nothing more than some sort of understanding or recognition, and then they built on that. Very much like real life cults did and do in order to establish themselves and gain following.

Like very much fucked up but I can see very well why these cults work, why people join them and how they manage to manipulate their followers into blind loyalty and going above and beyond. The gods they serve and their lil libraries nd stuff may be dorky at times but the cults themselves are nothing besides absolutely terrifying. 11/10 no notes.

[arthursfuckinghat]

[gh0stbeeee]

One thing that is sadly lacking in the Death Note fanfiction community is Light being written as this ominous and creepy character. Like yes he is a goofy little meow meow, yes he has been dissected to hell and back and portrayed as what exactly what he is (delulu serial killer) but.

Where is the average person's view of Kira? A seemingly godlike figure that lives in the shadows of society. That feels omniscient and scary. Who can kill you at any moment they wanted after they had your name.

Then Light Yagami, Kira's facade. Whose every facate is a lie, who is always where he needs to be, watching, listening, planning. Who was able to fool people close to him for years. Who killed the greatest detective in the world without needing to lift a finger, just manipulation.

I feel like through experiencing the series through Light's (fucking fantastic) point of view, we lost the real oomph and terrifying impact that was his character.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Feel like making people miserable today. Anyways, here's Gon experiencing like. Textbook symptoms of trauma in the CAA, in case there was any lingering doubt about this or anything:

Initial denial that the experience happened or was traumatic

[ID: A screenshot from episode 85 of HxH 2011. Gon, eyes bright and with a smile, says "Kite is alive!" End ID.]

Flashbacks

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 95, and a third from episode 110. In the first, Kite's arm is shown in the foreground, bleeding and blurred. In the second, a close of Pitou's wide eyes, looking animalistic. In the last, puppet Kite's mangled and scarred face stares emptily ahead - the scene is greyed out. End ID.]

Intense distress at real or symbolic reminders of the trauma

[ID: Two screenshots from episode 116. In the first, Gon's fist can be seen in the foreground, with Pitou shielding an unconscious Komugi just barely seen. The narrator says "The girl lying before them brought back". In the second, Komugi has a medical respirator on. The narrator continues "images of a broken Kite to Gon's mind". End ID.]

Physical sensations such as pain, sweating, nausea or trembling

[ID: A screenshot from episode 116. Gon's fists slam into the ground as he says "That isn't fair...". Sweat drips down his arms. End ID.]

Extreme alertness/hypervigilance

[ID: A screenshot from episode 116. Part of Pitou can be seen in the foreground as Gon stares at them intensely, crouched on the ground with his arm resting on his knee, obscuring his lower face. End ID.]

Angry outbursts or other extreme behaviour

[ID: Two screenshots, one from episode 116, and the other from episode 127. In the first, Gon shouts "Is something wrong with you?!" as his face contorts with rage. His aura floats black around him. In the second, Gon, his face shadowed eerily with thin lines, says "The next time you try to delay me, I'll kill her." End ID.]

Feeling like you have to keep busy

[ID: A screenshot from episode 94. A close up of Gon's face from the side as he says "I want to focus on my training." End ID.]

Doing things that are reckless and self-destructive

[ID: Three screenshots, one from episode 95 and the other two from episode 131. The first is stylized as a black outline of Gon's figure over a background like parchment or a projector - he's been hit in the face and sent to the right from the force of the blow. The second is a close up of Gon's face, almost completely shadowed, with intense and vacant eyes - he says "I don't care". The third continues with a close up of his eye filling with darkness - "if this is the end..." End ID.]

Feeling like nobody understands ("since it means nothing to you")

[ID: A screenshot from episode 116. In a whitish-room with a crack on the wall between them, Gon stands ahead of Killua, facing away from him. They are both in shadow. End ID.]

Ignoring offers of help and shutting out loved ones... poor Killua :(

[ID: A screenshot from episode 136. A spotlight on both Killua, in the foreground, and Gon, walking away from him in the background. Killua thinks "I wanted you to ask for my help in defeating Pitou!" End ID.]

Self-loathing, self-punishment, and lack of self regard

[ID: Three screenshots, two from episode 110 and the third from episode 131. The first is a close up of Gon's face over Morel asking "When would you try to hurt yourself?" The second is a continuation. Morel looks down at Gon who is facing away from the camera as Gon replies "When I couldn't forgive myself." In the last, adult Gon, staring ahead, is animated in black and white with the only colour being the blood from the stump of his right arm. His left hand grips his shoulder. End ID.]

Blaming yourself for what happened

[ID: Two screenshots, one from episode 95 and the other from episode 130. In the first, Gon hugs puppet Kite around his waist. In the second, Gon stares blankly ahead with tears streaming down his face as he thinks "I killed Kite." End ID.]

Overwhelming feelings of anger, sadness, guilt, and shame

[justablah56]

woooo guess who made an actual lineup for s2

gonna try n do one for the dads and kiddads too , so maybe look forward to that eventually cbsnndnd

close ups below the cut :3

[sleepyminty]

When the rabbit motif woman from the previous game meet the rabbit motif woman of the sequel

(Disclaimer: op is not an artist)

[cookies-over-yonder]

right there where you left it, lying upside down

The teens spend some time resting and recovering at the Oak-Swallows-Garcia household.

It's been days, and Taylor hasn't said a word.

[title from everything stays from adventure time]

for @cookies-over-yonder (yes, me. i wrote this for me. fuck.)

ao3

“How—how are you guys? I—I—I’m… I’m—I’m not fine… but—but I’m… just…”

Normal sucks in a breath and swipes at his tears. Sparrow squeezes his shoulder. There’s fresh burn scars scattered across his body, but his eyes are open, and he’s breathing, and he’s alive, and stable—physically anyway—and that’s really all she could ask for. It’s been days. She doesn’t know how many. She doesn’t think anyone does. Lark isn’t happy, and neither is she. The kids need to rest.

And one of them is dead .

A backyard burial without their own parents. Lark thought it was unnecessary and that they were just losing time. Sparrow thinks he’s the only one who didn’t cry.

“I’m, uh… I guess I’m okay, Norm,” Scary answers, still holding his hand like it's his last lifeline. Sparrow isn’t sure she’s let go at all, or if she ever will.

Her voice is shaking like her hands, and her eyes are wide. No tears now, but her face is red from the way there were earlier.

She spares a quick glance to Link before bringing her gaze back to Normal, and then to the Doodler— Dood , lying in Normal’s lap. Asleep? Can it sleep?

She’s been pressed up against Normal nonstop, leaning on him, laying on him, like an eldritch weighted blanket.

“Yeah, same,” Link says, though the way he’s been anxiously wringing his hands together for the past few hours says otherwise. It… reminds Sparrow a little of Grant. The anxious mannerisms, the inflections of his voice, it’s… he’s left an imprint. For sure.

“Taylor?” Normal asks, glancing over at the kid half in his sleeping bag, half sitting up against the wall with a pillow wrapped in his arms.

And there’s nothing but silence.

At first, Sparrow thinks he’s asleep, but through the darkness there’s the faint glow of his sclera. A trait Sparrow knew well from Nicky. The demonic glow seems to have passed down, reflected in little Taylor. Normal’s spare clothes seem to fit him a lot nicer than the other two, probably since he’s quite short in stature.

“Taylor?” Link echoes. They’re all looking at him now, and still, he doesn’t say a word.

Link reaches out a hand and taps Taylor’s ankle.

He’s awake, eyes wide and staring straight ahead. His breathing is slow and steady, but still, he’s not responding.

…

Come to think of it, Taylor’s quite chatty, and yet Sparrow isn’t sure he’s spoken since they got inside the FBI’s headquarters.

He hasn’t said a word since Hermie…

Oh, Taylor…

The others glance at each other worriedly. Sparrow puts up a hand when she sees them start to move closer to him—crowding wouldn’t be the best idea.

Instead, Sparrow lets herself leave Normal’s side only for a moment, and she crawls over to him. Taylor’s eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly agape, revealing the point of a fang. His lips are horribly chapped and bloody—some of that blood looks fresh.

“Taylor,” Sparrow says so low it could almost be a whisper, lifting a hand to his shoulder, before placing it down slowly for little chance of startling him. “Can you hear me?”

Taylor blinks and continues staring off.

Sparrow thinks she might cry again. Had he been dissociating this whole time and she hadn’t noticed?

She squeezes Taylor’s shoulder and starts to run her hand up and down Taylor’s arm.

“Hey, okay, just listen to me, hon. I know it’s really scary, but you’re safe right now. I need you to try and focus on me.”

Taylor still shows no sign of acknowledgement.

“What’s wrong with him?” Scary asks, matching Sparrow’s volume.

“He’s just in shock,” she answers, though she’s not sure what she can do anymore. Grounding techniques… many used and many forgotten…

“Lincoln, could… you get me an ice pack from the freezer?”

He nods, and he’s off immediately.

Here’s to hoping that’ll work, she thinks, carefully prying Taylor’s hands away from the pillow and holding them in her own.

Link returns swiftly with the ice pack and she takes it, lets go of Taylor briefly to wrap it inside a loose pillowcase, and places it in his hands, holding the backs of them steady, making sure he can feel the ice.

It’s something that worked for Lark growing up, she remembers. Something about strong physical sensations pulling you out of your head and back to the present.

Taylor’s gaze breaks away from whatever distant spot it was locked on, and he’s looking at their hands and the ice. That’s good. This is good.

“Can you feel that, Taylor?” she asks.

“‘S cold…” he mumbles, his voice so small, so fragile, she almost can’t hear it.

“It is. Keep focusing on it, okay?”

Taylor closes his eyes, and his hands start to shake. Sparrow suspects it isn’t purely from the cold.

Especially when it spreads. Anxious trembles running across his body. After a while, he speaks again.

“I…” he mumbles, opening his eyes, “Wha…”

He looks at Sparrow. And actually at her. Not past her. Not through her.

“Can you hear me?” she asks again.

“Ye…yeah… hi…”

“Hey, kiddo.”

Taylor looks at the walls, and then at the floor, and then at the ceiling, and then out the window. “Um…”

“We’re at your friend Normal’s house. We’ve been staying here for a little bit,” she tells him, sensing his confusion.

“Right. I… I knew that…” he says, looking over at Link, then Scary, then Normal. Sparrow takes her hands and slides them up and down his arms once more, when he starts another question…

“Where’s… where’s—”

He cuts himself off with a sharp gasp, and oh, it hurts .

He’s just a kid.

They’re all kids .

Sparrow thinks she might cry.

Taylor stands up fast, dropping the ice and breathing faster, and Sparrow is quick to catch him when he starts tipping over. His body temperature much higher than before, much like Nicky when he’d start to panic.

“Let’s sit back down,” she says, guiding him back to the sleeping bag. He’s hyperventilating now.

“That—Hermie—tha… that’s… that wasn’t real, right?” he asks between breaths.

“Taylor, hey, slow dow—”

“It wasn’t, right? ” he asks again, his voice gaining more strength however strained it might be.

Sparrow doesn’t know what to say.

“I mean—he’s, like, freakishly resilient! Or—or—or—or just lucky… either… either way! There’s no way!” he continues, yelling now, locking eyes with everyone one by one and bordering on hysteria. “Why aren’t you guys saying anything!?”

Scary starts, “Taylor—”

“We buried him in the backyard,” Link finishes.

Taylor lets out a choked squeak sort of noise, and the waterworks start. It’s not sobs, just a steady stream of tears as the frantic breaths continue. “Maybe it was a—a—another scam…?”

“It’s been days, Taylor,” Scary says.

“ Days? ”

“Ye—”

Before Scary can finish her sentence, Taylor is booking it out the door and into the yard, nearly tripping over himself but stumbling out nonetheless.

“Taylor!” two simultaneous calls from Link and Scary as they get up and chase after him.

Sparrow’s about to follow when she sees her son has stayed put.

Curled in on himself.

Crying.

It’s something she’s seen much of lately, and every time, more of her shatters.

Dood stirs, and turns to wrap his arms around Normal’s waist. The purple static is exceedingly hard to look directly at, but Sparrow’s heart aches nonetheless.

She just wants to make it all go away…

“Oh my god!”

“Taylor, stop! ”

Screams from the backyard.

Sparrow runs out.

Taylor is squirming in Link’s grip, breathing harder and faster than before.

“ Let me go! ” he screams, punching Link in the arm repeatedly with dirtied fists—

Dirtied fists…?

Sparrow’s gaze slips from Taylor to Scary, who’s standing in front of the grave with her arms outstretched, like she’s guarding it. And the grave… oh…

It’s a mess.

The flower has toppled over, and bits of dirt are spread around it.

Oh.

Oh, Taylor .

“ Ow! ” Link shouts. Taylor is kicking at his legs now.

“Fucking— let go! ” Taylor screams again, and the sheer volume could wake up the whole of San Dimas.

“I won’t. You’re—you’re not stable right now, man!”

Taylor lets out a whine, and Link yelps in pain, claw-like nails digging into the flesh of his arms.

“Put me—put me down!” he whines. His face is red, he’s trembling worse, and he’s sucking in breaths like he’s trapped underwater and his lungs have lost their air.

“Taylor, breathe !” Link shouts, his voice strained. Blood trickles down his arm from where Taylor’s piercing the skin.

“Let me go!”

“You know that I won’t.”

Taylor only wheezes in response, pulling his hands away for a moment, revealing bloodied nails, before feebly attempting to pry Link’s arms off him once more.

“Taylor, listen to me,” Link says, holding him tighter and taking on a gentler tone, “stop fighting, it’s not worth it.”

Somehow, this calms him some—well, it stops him from actively attacking.

His head tips forward a little, and his eyes start to droop.

“Taylor, hey, hey, hey, breathe. Breathe. You’re gonna pass out,” Link says, turning Taylor around so he’s pressed up against Link’s chest, and taking an exaggerated breath in for Taylor to follow. He doesn’t.

“But…” he whines.

“There’s no use,” Scary says, taking a step closer to the two. “He’s gone, and I don’t think… looking at his body will change that. It might just make you throw up.”

Taylor lets out a small squeak, and, at last, a sob rips through him.

And another. And another. And another.

A cacophony of sobs becomes muffled in an instant when Link holds him closer, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back, his eyes glassy with newfound tears. Scary holds his hand in one of hers and rubs his arm with her other, tears sliding down her face as well.

Sparrow approaches the grave.

She moves the dirt back where it belongs, restoring the even surface it had before, and she’s careful to pick up the flower and not hurt it when she replants it, upright and steady, patting down the dirt around it to keep it secure.

She hopes this didn’t disturb their rest, but if it did, she hopes they know how much Taylor cares.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

two wrongs WILL make a right! ive got another lease on life, and im using it well, who cares if this is all fucked up cause we're all GOING TO HELL! IM JUST WILLIAM WHO SHOULD BE DEAD, HAD TO FOLLOW THE THREAD, thought he was just chillin! now he is a villain! HES ALWAYS SUCH A BUMMER, HE WANTS TO TRUST HIS BROTHER WILLIAM IN A HALLWAY BY HIMSEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

[stormofdefiance]

🤔 this boy ain’t right………

[skrunksthatwunk]

this could be kuwameshi if you guys would like. take my hand and trust me

[dazais-guardian-angel]

kinda wild to me that one of the most compelling aspects of both Chuuya and Kunikida's characters to me, that I never really see talked about, is how they're heavily set on a doomed crash course towards complete and utter destruction, and how I am so, so worried for them both.....