#he's silly and dangerous i like him

[snailsnaps]

ill have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda.

[soaked-ghost]

sooooo I had the idea of nightmare being a merchant and I have a lot to say about it hihi (see tags)

(comic under cut cuz it was getting too long)

[pettyprocrastination]

thinking about how as Aemond’s wife you are the model of perfection. 

Your back is straight as you curtsy when you first meet him and hair neatly braided with fine jewels. Your voice is even and never waivers as you speak to him of your family and how grateful they are for this union. 

You are intelligent and beautiful, the perfect wife. 

It’s why Aemond hardly ever spends time with you. 

He bears no ill will toward you, of course. There is no resentment or hatred to his lady wife, but there are no fond feelings either. 

He knows of courting and romance, his mother taught him everything from a young age. The poor woman would hold her son’s hands tight and explain that a man must not only respect his wife, but truly cherish her. Love her in the eyes of gods and men. As he grew older he noticed the way his father would wave off her constant advice and concerns until the dreaded night where she was the only one defending him after he lost his eye.

But practice was one thing. When you were nothing but a concept. A figment of Aemond’s imagination when he was ten and marriage was only spoken of during his lessons. Before he lost his eye. Before he heard the ladies of the court whispering about his mutilation and before he watched a whore flinch at the sight of his scarring when Aegon dragged him to a brothel on his thirteenth name day. 

He learned then that no matter how much he would love and worship his wife, it would not be returned. 

Rather than attempt to force it (he was no brute and had no intentions of doing something so cruel) he simply let you be by yourself. 

Yes you were married. You sat by one another at every meal and formal event and on the rare occasion he would even ask for your hand in a dance. But Aemond’s affections toward you were few and far to find. 

But there were moments. 

Where his icy facade would weaken and you found yourself able to slip through the cracks. 

Alicent had told you of his “moments” when the engagement had been announced. The queen herself taking you by the hand as you walked through the garden and explaining gently of Aemond’s condition. 

“There are times where he feels a great deal of pain because of the-” She paused, chewing on her cheek while trying to find the most inoffensive way to describe the tragedy that befell her son. “-incident he had as a child.” 

You knew enough of it. Many rumors flew through court the day Aemond targaryen walked in with a patch on his eye after Laenor Velaryan’s funeral at driftmark. Some day it was from a sparring incident, others say it was a mark he bore from the first time he mounted the mighty vhaegar. Others say that the Rouge Prince Daemon Targaryen himself gave it to his younger cousin after crude words were exchanged behind closed doors. 

You didn’t know what was the truth. Aside from the day the princeling got his scar, was the same he got his dragon.

A fair trade, some would say. 

But they didn’t live with the attacks he did. 

Nerve damage, is what the maester’s called it when you asked them for more information. His wound may have healed years prior but the prince would continue to live his life with constant bouts of mind-numbing pain brought on by the slightest touch or too sharp of a wind to his cheek. 

“Senseless fits.” Aegon called it. When he heard about your curiosity about his brother’s condition he had all but cornered you late at night in the hall. “Anything will set him off and send him throwing a tantrum like a belligerent child. It’s quite entertaining.” 

But there’s a moment where the elder brother frowns and you see a shred of concern in his eyes. 

“He doesn’t like to be touched during those moments. It makes the pain worse. So if you’re trying to find some way to comfort him I’d recommend you do something else.” 

What was ‘something else’ you learned, was simply being there. 

Sitting by his side when he curled into himself, trembling fingers reaching out to grab yours and not complaining when his nails dig into the palm of your hand as he cries out in pain. When his breath evens out and the pain subsides, he crawls to you and presses his face to the crook of your neck. He’s far too tired to cover the gnarled scar covering the side of his face but you show no fear or disgust at the sight of it. Your fingers run through his hair, gently combing back the silver tresses and ignoring the tears that stain the shoulder of your gown. 

The next morning your husband would wake in your arms and takes a moment to watch your peaceful expression and the way the morning sun kisses your skin. 

That day Alicent notices her son sits closer to you at breakfast, speaking softly to you of something she cannot understand. But when she sees his hand reach out and grasp yours, she smiles. 

[hawkinsunderground]

okay so theoretically the pregnancy smoking poster could refer to Joyce, who smokes a lot, right? I think she's one of the most prominent smokers in the show

SO, could it possibly be alluding to something she did during pregnancy affecting Will in relation to his connection to Vecna? or is that just the biggest reach ever lol

[ghostdrinkssoup]

moriarty and sherlock are criminal x investigator written by straight people and hannibal and will are criminal x investigator written by gay people hope that helps

[willowser]

"oh! hey, c'mere, i gotta show you something funny!"

whatever nonsense satoru had been planning on spouting is tucked away the instant he sees your coy little grin, and one of his own grows on his face, made brighter and wider by the ease of your invitation.

yes, he's just spent the last seven minutes in your doorway, silent and scheming, thinking on what to say to attract your attention — but it doesn't matter if that's now been disrupted, because he'd take your attention any way it can be served, cold or hot. it's warm today; that much he can tell by the way you beam at him, as he comes to stand beside you.

you dig through the top drawer of your desk for a minute or two, and satoru is bubbling with things to say, now, about the little mess you keep there, but he gets distracted by the hurried, chalky handprints staining the material covering your ass. the sight makes him grin so hard that his cheeks swell, nudging his blindfold up the littlest bit; satoru finds it invigorating, this innate ability you have to fluster him. the heat in his face is surely visible, even to someone like you.

"aha!" you dance back and forth on your feet for a second, stopping only when he starts to join you, excited, and then you hold up two dangly, jingling little things right in front of his face. "a student's sister is selling these for school, and they made me think of you! so i bought us some to match!"

keychains, he realizes, suddenly sober. cute and colorful miniature ice bars.

"adorable, huh?" you pull them back to assess in your palm, touching gently at the plastic as if they were real, as if they could melt in the warmth of your hand. "which one do you want? the watermelon is the cutest, so i was gonna give you that one."

everything satoru had thought to say dissolves, leaks between his fingers, sugary and sweet. he's left with nothing, cold, then, smile frozen, as you fiddle with something so meaningless—

you look up, waiting for his response, and he watches you clock the change in his demeanor, instantly; you can't see cursed energy, but you can see — something, within him. always have been able to, though he's yet to figure out how.

"unless you want strawberry," you shrug, a little awkward now, but sunny as usual. "do you even have keys, actually, or do you—"

"no take-backs!" he snatches the dainty thing from your hand, sticking his tongue out at the flat look you send him. "i get watermelon!"

"fine," you pout for just a second before sticking your tongue out at him, too, and then you laugh quietly to yourself. amused, like a child.

once you start to dig around in your messy drawer for your car keys, satoru turns his attention to the tiny treat, focusing on it. trying to ignore the blood rushing in his ears.

it's so simple. so silly. you are, selfless and honest to a fault, all the traits that make you a liability in this world. if anything were to happen to your students, then you wouldn't make it. and if anything were to happen to you, satoru thinks—

right there in your presence, so close that he can hear your heartbeat peacefully thundering over his own — he can feel the cracks in his composure. how close he is to splintering off, how quickly everything would collapse if he dared to blink wrong.

if anything were to happen to you, satoru thinks, he'd go insane. he already has.

a small laugh leaves him, at the thought, but he closes his fist around the small keychain when you look up at him again. still grinning, leaning in so close that you're about to be stopped.

"do you like it?" you ask, open and hopeful and silly.

it makes him laugh again, because you really have no idea.

[starfilledsea]

why did it take me literally 6 years to realize that part of the reason pierre drinks when he shouldn’t is because he’s suicidal

[fellhellion]

Something something the spot’s goofy antics distract from how dangerous his own entitlement and resentment is

[oifaaa]

So a genuine question. I'm somewhat new to DC comics (was on the edge looking into the fandom for most of my life but only recently started reading the comics) and I thought the "Tim stalked Batman and Robin with a camera" was a canon thing? I can't remember the first time I saw it, but I feel like it was mid 2010s, so earlier then what I thought was the start of the Tim Angst Era of fanfic. Like I know I've seen fanart of it from people who said they don't really read fanfiction, so I assumed it was a canon thing. Do you have any idea what might have started it? In my experience fanon stuff starts with a grain of truth somewhere, even if by the end it's lost that grain.

Yes I do it actually did start in canon basically Tim does take pictures of Batman but its after jason dies since it's bc batman is killing himself and he needs evidence to prove to Dick that Bruce is killing himself so that dick will want to become robin again (it doesn't work but he tried) and he does stalk dick and the titans a bit since after the titans come back from space dick decides to leave them for a wee while so tim has to stalk them to figure out where dick is

[good-beanswrites]

I can't stop thinking of Kyanako's Order of Attack au... there's something so moving to me about how things getting so much worse could be what finally causes Amane to get better -- seeing Fuuta dying may be the final straw of getting her to rethink her rejection of medicine. Been a while since I've attempted something whump-y, this was fun to work with.

Tw for mentions/contemplation of death. I don't go into detail about the cult but the doctrines are implied through it all.

Fuuta was not a big fan of dying.

When he imagined his own death, he always pictured it as something dramatic and fast. Action heroes going out in a show of explosions and gunfire. Fantasy characters meeting the shining end of a blade. Even when he accepted his place in Milgram, it filled his mind with images of gallows and electric chairs. 

Whatever this slow, lengthy fever was, it was pissing him off. 

He’d lost all sense of time. He could no longer tell which hour the prison bells were marking -- morning and night blended together. Dreaming and waking blended together. His head injury and broken leg and broken bones blended together. It was all just pain at the end of the day. He had nonstop visitors that kept him awake and asked him too many questions and prodded his injuries and made his head spin. Somehow, he was simultaneously alone every time he rolled over to talk to someone. Painfully, suffocatingly alone. 

If Kotoko was going to kill him with those ridiculous emo boots of hers, she should have just done it. He was losing his mind here: devoid of all energy, suffering through broken bones and a cracked head, and boiling in an increasingly fiery fever. Maybe that was the reason he stopped commenting when he watched Amane pocket the medicine Shidou had left him. Maybe that was why he’d stopped following Shidou’s instructions himself. Even after losing an eye and taking a beating herself, Amane always looked at peace. He was tired of dealing with all of this. He wanted a bit of that peace.

Regardless of why, it was working. His fever had quickly gone from the biggest pain in his ass to the very thing that dulled his racing thoughts. 

He awoke suddenly, or maybe he’d already been awake. He couldn’t feel anything in his limbs. There was only a breathless heat around him. He raised himself into a sitting position, looking for a drink. Moving his head felt like one of those glitching computer windows that leaves a trail of copies behind it. The room swam around him. His eyes moved absently around him.

Fuuta picked up the glass that someone had left him. His fingers were clumsy, and it immediately went crashing to the ground. He hardly heard the noise as it broke apart on the concrete below. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d just go get a drink himself. Shidou told him not to get up without help. But what did he know? Thinking of the man ordering him around only drove Fuuta to step out of bed even quicker. He cried out, pain shooting through his leg. That was right, it was broken… 

Fuuta looked down, finding himself on the ground. It was so hot. Maybe this is what she felt, he thought numbly. Was it this slow for her too? Probably not. She had no regrets to fill the time like he did. The heroes got quick, beautiful deaths, and it was the villains who had to suffer the long ones. 

He lifted his right palm from where it had caught his fall. The shattered glass on the floor had cut into it. Shattered glass? What had broken? He stared blankly at the blood dripping down. 

He didn’t have the strength to raise himself up. He was burning. Why was he on the ground? Was he bleeding? He could barely breathe. What was he doing here, anyway? He just wanted to curl up and sleep. He was so weak... just to lie down... he wouldn't have the strength to get back up again. Was that such a bad thing...?

A voice caught his attention. His eyes struggled to focus on the figure who’d come running into the cell. He couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, but he was happy when she pressed her cool little hands against his forehead. 

He allowed her to prop him up next to the bed. She held onto his hand, squeezing it tight. Why was she holding it like that? That hand was bleeding. When did that happen?

Her arms wrapped tightly around him. He wanted to shove her away -- it was too hot -- but couldn’t. In his ear, he could make out her words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, Fuuta. Don’t leave me alone. I’m so sorry...”

As she pulled back, he recognized Amane. Her uninjured eye was filled with tears. Was she upset? He thought he’d been making her happy. He wanted to keep making her happy. He’d never made anyone happy before. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. They all scrambled up in his mouth. He felt the cell swirling around him.

Amane raised her voice. She looked desperately upwards. “This can’t be --! This isn’t right!” 

Fuuta looked up at the ceiling. There was nothing there. 

“I can’t do this anymore.”

She continued talking. Fuuta was too busy studying the ceiling. She was shouting. Or maybe crying. Fuuta didn’t like that she was so upset. Huh, had there been someone there? He surveyed the empty cell. What was he doing on the ground?

He looked down at his hand. The sheet from his bed had been pulled down and wrapped hastily around it. Why? His eyes felt sticky as he blinked. Everything hurt. It was so hot. What was going on? He was so angry. He was so scared. He wanted to cry. Why was he here? Why couldn’t he just hurry up and die already?

The next time she entered, Fuuta recognized Amane instantly. Her one hand pointed to him, the other held onto someone else. The second figure hurried over to him. 

Fuuta was not a big fan of dying. Shidou reassured him he wouldn’t.

—

“You’re wearing the eyepatch,” Fuuta observed. 

He was playing a dangerous game, drawing attention to it like that. He was too exhausted, and his curiosity won out over his better judgment. If Amane was going to explode with one of her typical speeches, he’d just let her.

She didn’t. 

Amane’s hand drifted up to her eye. It had been hastily covered before, but now it was cleaned and wrapped in professional-grade materials. She simply said,  “Kajiyama Fuuta. How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“But--”

“-- But I’m better, yeah.”

Amane nodded, her shoulders releasing. 

“Oi, I haven’t seen you in a while. Not since…” He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Shidou had told him what happened, but it was difficult to believe. He couldn’t quite trust his own memory of the night. No matter how much clearer his mind felt since receiving proper treatment, those days of fever still muddled together. He heard that Amane had up and switched her beliefs overnight -- she was now complacent about all of Shidou's treatments -- but Fuuta knew people didn't just change like that. He wanted to hear it for himself.

She lowered her gaze in shame. “I… I thought you hated me.” Her voice was steady. “As you should. I almost killed you. I accept any ill will you may feel.”

“I -- what? You’re wrong. You… it wasn’t…” He grabbed his head, grunting in frustration.

After standing awkwardly in the entryway the whole time, Amane took a few steps inside. She made it to his bedside when he finally collected his thoughts. 

“It was your fucked up family or whatever that caused everything. They did this. And I went along and made things worse.” He looked away. His next words felt stupid to say to a little kid. He felt like the most pathetic, weak, loser. But it was too important not to say.

“They almost killed me. You saved me.”

[suntails]

protectors that will erode in time to dust

@llondonfog made the post that insp’d this here <3

[luck-of-the-drawings]

I LOOOVE LOVE ALL THE NPCS IN PRIME DEFENDERS!! THEYRE EACH SO UNIQUE AND COOL, WITH THE GREATEST THING YOU CAN POSSIBLY GIVE TO SUPER HEROS IN A SUPER HERO UNIVERSE: WAAACKY FUCKIN SUPER POWERS!! (MADE WITH ONLY PEN AND COLORED PENCILES, MISTAKES CORRECTED WITH PAPER N GLUE)

[von-karmas-a-bitch]

damn i had some really good tags on a reblog but tumblr ate it. anyways the gist of it was what if anime episode where the evil old man coworker trio (blaise, manfred and damon) were at manfred's place Discussing Work (drinking copious amounts of "grape juice" and laughing maniacally about their victories for which they Definitely Didn't Cheat) and franziska and miles are supposed to be playing quietly in the corner while the adults are talking but then baby franziska wanders off and the A plot becomes a very exasperated 10yo miles chasing a surprisingly fast and very brave 3yo franziska around the von karma estate, occasionally picking her up and carrying her away from danger until she inevitably escapes again. the B plot is just it occasionally cutting back to the old men and we catch one of them saying something insane but it's halfway through the sentence and we get no context. and then it cuts back to the siblings. one time when it cuts back to the old men, manfred is like "wait where's franziska" and he looks out the window and miles is in the garden holding her. he is very obviously disheveled and covered in scrapes and bruises and there are sticks and leaves lodged in his hair. franziska on the other hand is completely unscathed and in pristine condition. manfred shrugs and is like "eh, she's fine. anyway-"

[girlscience]

finished opla and have truly shocked myself.... i think sanji might be my favorite. he is just a little baby. i want to squeeze him so hard.

[system-architect]

my new guy; theka, the servitor! this isn't technically his actual body, just a hologram

[smug self-assured asuran krewe boss voice] yes you can grant our AI office manager executive control over the entire facility. it should definitely also serve as the jailer for the violently rogue other AI we inherited from the other krewe we subsumed. yes i absolutely want you to remove any kind of learning limiters from it and also not give it any lines of code that would make it forcibly power down its cpu tower if left to its own devices without any living interaction for a long period of time. what do you MEAN "that could be dangerous?" or "what if something happens to us and leaves our entire facility abandoned with a supermassively overpowered AI guarding it and it goes insane"? why would any of that happen? it's just a computer. do you want to get fired? i am very smart.

[capricioussun]

See, everyone always acts like Edge is the voice of reason but it's just not true. Perhaps situationally he is, but there's no way him and Rus could be in the same room for more than an hour without getting into schemes and blueprints about traps and puzzles and the thing is, he has waaay less reservations about using deadly force, and Rus just goes along with it, after all, it's only theoretical, right? It's fine =<]

Sure, maybe he'll stop Levi from killing the particularly annoying human politician they've been dealing with lately, but he'd probably also give Frisk a knife to take to school if they were getting bullied. For self defense only of course. Of course.

Like, maybe amongst the UF crew, he is the most reasonable, but that is almost entirely dependent on the specific circumstances aligning in the right way to make it so. And worse yet, most of the others even amongst the other AUs are so chaotic, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who would actually make the effort to stop him in the event he is the one doing something insane.

He’s also typically one of the few with actual foresight, and tends to think things through more thoroughly, so people incorrectly see his lack of impulsivity as restraint. It is not. Sometimes violence is the solution, you just have to think more about it first. Especially arson <3