#he's fine he's at peace

[alexiethymia]

realization

summary: [Post-TYBW] Momo falls in love. It's messy business. 

[read on ao3]

part 1

It happens on an ordinary day.

They’re in his office sharing amanatto from Isane-fuku –no, Isane-taichou now (she still feels echoes of sadness. It seems so unfair for someone so kind to just be gone, for Momo to still remain when the reason she – and many others – remains alive in the first place is no longer here, and yet -), the weather is pleasant, a mild breeze entering through the open window that she cannot help but feel at peace.

When before, Isane-san might have joined her, unfortunately, her new responsibilities keep her busy. Rangiku-san, for some reason, had escaped with a hearty wave and a cheeky wink that she still had trouble deciphering. It was fortunate that her captain hadn’t been there when she made her speedy exit (however knowing Rangiku-san, it had probably been intentional), so when Hitsugaya-kun returns to a room bereft of his vice-captain, and containing only a package of amanatto and a sheepish smile, he can only sigh in resignation.

He apologizes for doing work while she’s visiting, but this – him at his desk, eyes glued to his papers but keeping an ear out, and her, animated and gushing about the newest manga she’s been reading – is more than enough for Momo.

He hadn’t really understood, but Momo was nothing if not a voracious reader, so when Hirako-taichou had brought back picture books from the Living World called ‘manga’ from his friends, it was inevitable that she’d get hooked. She even managed to get Nanao-san to join in her latest reading obsession, not without a lot of nudging from Yadomaru-taichou. Still, not even Yadomaru-taichou could get either of them to try out the racier ones she preferred.

It is in the midst of her latest spiel on the ending of a manga she had been reading (‘-so moving, even when it seemed like she loved another, he was steadfast-’ eyebrows bunched together in confusion, ‘I thought this was a story about hanafuda’ ‘It’s karuta, Shiro-chan.’ His unimpressed look shows he still didn’t understand the difference.) that he suddenly interjects.

“So it’s the same as that manga,” it’s awkward in his mouth, but he says it anyway, and only with a slight grimace, “with the princess and her guardian?”

Here, Momo stops, stares. “Which one?”

He waves the hand holding his brush around in a lazy gesture, “The one where the princess was betrayed by her first love who kills her father, and she runs away with her guardian. You said she eventually falls in love with her guardian who’s loved her since childhood.”

Momo continues to stare. Hitsugaya-kun, misunderstanding her gaze, shifts his eyes away, “Did I get it wrong?”

Momo flails, waving her arms wildly, “No, no! You’re right, it’s just like that one. It’s just…” She bites her lip, hesitating on whether or not to continue. Hitsugaya-kun merely raises a brow, waiting.

Momo shakes her head. It’s silly. It’s just that, she talked about that one with him, months and months ago. This is the first time they’ve actually been alone since the invasion. Whenever she’d go off-tangent, he’d be nodding along absentmindedly as he scrutinized another report Rangiku-san left unfinished. She’d always assumed he wasn’t really interested and Momo didn’t begrudge him that since she knew with certainty that he’d give her his full attention if it was something truly important. It was just nice to spend time with him.

She’d actually forgotten about that particular story till he mentioned it. It had resonated with her, a story about admiration turning into poison. Reading that story made her feel like water was filling her lungs, and yet she still pushed through, just so she could see that girl of fire reignited.

“It’s actually not yet finished. We still don’t know what happens to the both of them from here on out…” she says quietly, in contrast to her earlier energy. Hitsugaya-kun only nods. Funny, she remembers that story made her feel like drowning, so why is it that now, as she looks into Hitsugaya-kun’s eyes, she feels like burning like that girl of fire? (It was a story that resonated with her.)

That particular interaction done, Momo expects Hitsugaya-kun to go back to his reports, expects it, wishes it even (if only so she no longer has to look into his eyes). Instead, not only does he continue looking at her, he surprises her by saying,

“Your hair has gotten longer.”

She brushes the ends of her hair self-consciously, “What are you talking about, Shiro-chan? No, it hasn’t. It’s still the same.”

“Yes, it has,” he drawls.

“No, it hasn’t.”

“Yes, it has.”

Momo pouts. This is silly. What they’re doing is silly, arguing about her hair of all things.

Momo is happy about where they’ve ended up after the invasion. Shiro-chan’s shoulders are lighter as if his captain’s cloak isn’t so heavy anymore. The lines on his face have lessened, and Momo couldn’t be more thankful. But just because she was happier that he smiled more didn’t mean she wasn’t entitled to feel disgruntled at the self-satisfied smirk on his face, no matter how slight it may be.

She was about to launch into another denial when he surprises her yet again.

Shiro-chan – Hitsugaya-kun reaches his arm across his desk toward her. He lets his fingertips kiss the ends of her short hair, and brushes a wayward strand away from her forehead, before retreating.

It is only then that Momo breathes out (she didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath in the first place).

“Be careful,” he says, voice sly, “You don’t want to burn your hair off accidentally – again – like that disastrous kido training session.”

It takes a while for her to place the event, but when she does, she really can’t help the full-blown pout. Oh, she’s worked herself up and crossed the threshold to righteous indignation (otherwise, she’ll have to examine everything else going on right now). “Honestly, Hitsugaya-kun! That only happened because you weren’t paying attention!” Actually no, she’d just been recruited into the Gotei, and Hitsugaya-kun right after her. She’d been so excited to train with him (to impress him if she was being honest) that things got out of hand and her hair got caught in a shakkaho spell.

(She can’t believe she forgot, but now that she remembers, what sparks vividly in her memories is the rapid transition of Hitsugaya-kun’s expression from feigned disinterest to heart-stopping panic.)  

Graciously, Hitsugaya-kun doesn’t contradict her version of events, but he does catch her attention, “Hinamori,” just one word, her name, so firmly that she pauses (and holds her breath again) when he smiles (not a smirk or a grin, but a true-blown smile that she’s only ever glimpsed once-), “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s not ‘Hitsugaya-kun’, it’s ‘Hitsugaya-taichou’.”

Oh.

This isn’t Shiro-chan’s smile, because she’s hardly ever seen him smile when they were kids.

Oh.

It’s not that his cloak isn’t heavy anymore, it’s just that he’s grown into it, even if in truth he’s only grown a mere centimeter.

Oh.

This is what she’d felt back then when she’d first seen that smile, this disquiet and unease, and curious perfect blankness that she’d felt when she realized that her Shiro-chan had transformed into a captain. That same feeling that she was being left behind, but still, the awe that she could not help, as she gazed at him soaring in the heavens, her Shiro-chan (because no matter what he would always be her Shiro-chan) protecting them all. This same feeling she’d pushed aside, unconsciously, time and again, in order to avoid thinking about it, because otherwise everything would – change.

(Oh, she finally understands, Rangiku-san.)

It happens on an ordinary day. The light doesn’t hit him just right. He hasn’t grown any taller than her. They still haven’t finished the amanatto Isane-taichou carefully packed for them as a souvenir. That brilliant smile slowly fades away into a look of confusion, the more she sits there, gaping at him, “Hinamori?”

It is on a perfectly ordinary day that Momo realizes she’s in love with him.

Him.

Hitsugaya-taichou.

Hitsugaya-kun.

Shiro-chan.

“Hinamori…?” He asks again, this time worry coloring his voice. He reaches out a tentative hand, but Momo bolts upright. She consciously stills her arms against her sides, else she’ll instinctually try and cover her (burning, burning) face.

“Hi-Hitsugaya-taichou!” She stuttered! She has never stuttered in front of him. She feels conscious of everything - her too-loud voice, the ends of her hair brushing her shoulders, her fisted hands, her scarlet face. “I beg your leave. I forgot that I have to meet with Hirako-taichou right about…now. Yes, now! I have to go right at this moment. Bye!”

And before Hitsugaya can so much as grasp at her – to ask what on earth was wrong, he didn’t expect his oft-repeated reminder to garner such a reaction, it was habit by now, was she mad at him, did he do anything – she has already shunpoed away leaving behind only the scent of peach blossoms, and a confused captain in her wake.

-

“Momo! Where’s the fire? What’s got ya in so much of a hurry?” One thing that Shinji noticed about his lieutenant was how graceful she was. Even when she was only walking, she always seemed so light on her feet, as if dancing on flower petals. There is none of that grace, here, now, as she barrels head first into him.

“Taichou!” Her head shoots up, voice so panic-stricken that Shinji’s heart jolts. He places the back of his hand against her forehead. “Ya running a fever or somethin’? If you’re sick, you should head to the fourth. Don’t go runnin’ yourself ragged, I promise I’ll finish all the paperwork.”

She shakes her head lightly. “Never mind that,” Wait, what? Momo not reminding him about his paperwork? This must be serious. “Do you notice anything different about me, Hirako-taichou?”

“Besides you bein’ outta breath, ya mean?” Even if he had no idea whatsoever about what was going on with his lieutenant, Shinji still decided to indulge her. If anyone deserved a scheduled psychotic break, it was her. He grasped his chin in hand and scrutinized her. Ah, he knew what this was about. His face was introduced enough times to a straw sandal for him to not say the right thing this time around.

“Don't worry, you haven’t gotten fatter. Heck, I think you should eat more. You’re light as a bird.” There, Hiyori would have no excuse to kick his face in now.

“Thank you, sir,” she says, voice clipped, “But no, I mean do you think my hair has gotten longer?”

Shinji narrows his eyes and looks closer, huffs out, “Nah, it hasn’t changed a bit.”

Evidently, that had been the wrong thing to say. Flabbergasted, Shinji could only watch as his lieutenant buried her face into her hands to muffle a frustrated scream.

[canisalbus]

Ok ok hear me out: it could end in tragedy,, AND have a happy ending. The attempt(s) on Machete’s life force him to flee, he doesn’t even have the chance to find Vasco. Cue gay longing for at least a few years while Machete despairs over the loss of his love, his life, his status. He and Vasco only reunite (again) in their later years. Their relationship is forever flavored with loss and loneliness, but that only means they savor every moment that much more

I also I would like to see them as old men. Vasco would be so droopy :)

You gave me such old dog brainworms.

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

—

Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

—

Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

[violent138]

Bruce has a habit of randomly worrying about his kids and silently lurking in their room until he's done being insane. This usually happens mid prolonged argument or after an incident on patrol that he thinks could've gone much worse.

It would be sweet, if he hadn't raised his kids to be just as paranoid as he is, making them shoot awake every time to see to their Batdad sleep paralysis demon.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

pygmalion and galatea for aroace people

you should tell your friends what I look like, riz gukgak.

[orengejoshi]

Have you ever drawn Flug where you can see his face? Do you have any headcanons for what's underneath?

half-joke hc based on the german Youtuber GermanLetsPlay. he's never shown his face and doesn't plan to, however we know what his hair looks like bc he hides behind a white mask instead of a bag or anything else... and while we know this is not canon by now, I still always wanted to believe that Flug is half-german bc I am.

other than that, this might be an unpopular opinion but... I'm scared. I do not wanna know what Flug looks like. I wish we would NEVER know.

I love the mystery about him. I'm certain a big part of the appeal is going to get lost for me. at my current standpoint I can't imagine any possible design that would NOT "ruin" him for me. no matter what happens I firmly believe it's going to be a downgrade for me.

I don't wanna know :(

[acetier]

another elden ring art dump feat. torin & friends

[mobius-m-mobius]

#a man who DESERVES A SLICE OF PIE

[lloydfrontera]

arcos and marbella should've been even more embarrassing parents than they already are in canon. like. they should've been the kind of parents to be constantly talking about how amazing their son is to other people. they're not even bragging they just love lloyd so much they can't help but gush about it to everyone in the vicinity.

someone at a party or something asks them what their oldest son is like and they just go "glad you asked" before pulling out the time period equivalent of a 101 slides long powerpoint presentation about why their son is so wonderful and smart and kind and talented and just about everything good in the world.

lloyd is dying in the corner of the room not really sure what's gonna kill him first, being so embarrassed or so overwhelmed by how genuine they are being about their love for him. it's so fucking nice and sweet and he kind of loves it but also stop please he's gonna dig a hole on the ground and never come out he's serious-

julian is teasing the hell out of him right up until they finish their presentation about lloyd only to smoothly transition over to another one all about their younger son and oh hey that hole looks so nice scoot over hyung-

scheherazade thinks it's really sweet and about to join in to gush about julian just to get bowled over when they also start to talk about their wonderful daughter-in-law who they've come to love so much. she isn't embarrassed by the words themselves but she does want to craw into the hole too when she starts tearing up because of them.

just. arcos and marbella being really earnest about how much they love their kids and not being able to stop talking about it much to the eternal mortification of their children <333

[taddymason]

Imagine how sad it is that Jay doesn't even remember his parents, he doesn't know his own age, or his birthday. He's been all alone for years since he can't trust anyone enough with his secret and no one cares about anything but work. He's stuck in a job he hates but knows nothing else.

yeah, I have many thoughts about him…

Also go watch this video please it's literally Amnesiac Jay

[saintofdaggers]

Peter Strahm haunting the narrative of Saw VI

// Wikipedia on pyrrhic victories / Mr.Kitty - Destroy Me / Joshua Jennifer Espinoza: Things Haunt //

[francy-sketches]

I think it's so funny how differently people talk about the hypothetical zombified jonsnow vs other undead characters like when people theorize about lady stoneheart it's always 'Who's gonna kill her and put her out of her misery' But with jonsnow it's like 'omg who's gonna have his incest babies >w<' could you imagine if we did that with LSH. Omg guys what if she has an enemies to lovers arc with roose and then they have a beautiful daughter together 🥺 that's #my twow theory

[bugmartyr]

THE VERY EMBODIMENT OF A LIE.

[stuckinapril]

me stoically navigating my way through drama bc bigger things are ahead and it’s not my fault people are dumb

[canisalbus]

Hello I made you some more art!! IDK Why your little guys have just stuck in my brain as of late but yeah I'm just on a roll I guess!

This piece was inspired by wondering who was present around Machete's assassination, and how people around him would react to his downfall. So I had the idea for a portrait of a final lover's embrace, as Vasco holds his dying beloved in bloodsoaked arms.

I tried my best with the clothing -- especially the shoes -- and I think I did a pretty good job but BOY were they hard! XD Anyways, I hope you like this one, it was a blast to draw! I love machete sm istg <3

.

[sallymew4]

Hey i g2g, can u watch this guy for a bit. Make sure nothing bad happens 2 him plz ❗️

Thanks ‼️‼️

yeah ofcors gangalang i got u

hey lil babyguy hows it goinggg

DEAR GOD ITS GOT A HOLD OF ME

oops