#inspired by a tiktok

[moon-meteor-star-sun]

What if when someone is obliviated, all the memories that are being erased flash through their mind?

James remembered all of his moments with Regulus, then could only remember that Reg was Sirius’s little brother.

Mary remembered everything that had happened since she found out about magic and Hogwarts, then could only remember that she had gone to a boarding school.

[beeloovedd]

Copia: it's a honeycomb vase so when you put the flowers in it-

*The ghouls screaming in the background because someone turned on the vacuum*

Copia: those are my ghouls anyways-

The video inspo bc it wouldn't let me save it

[ladyantiheroine]

AEON // SKYFALL

[st4rrmii]

Ms.Pincus:*tells Ben no about something*

Ben:Sometimes I look in the mirror, and I wish that my mother liked me-

Ms.Pincus:Oh here you go again

[wonderlandhour]

*Jamil and Yuu watching Malleus and Kalim while visiting Scarabia*

Yuu: let this be your daily reminder, that just because men can't get pregnant, doesn't mean you shouldn't try your absolute fucking hardest.

Jamil: *smirks* good luck to you then as well

[miammey]

She’s trying her best

[its-ya-boi-kaz]

The crows reaction to being hit with a snow ball snow ball:

Nina: lets out a blood curdling screech and starts making snowballs to attack immediately

Jesper: turns around with a shit eating grin on his face and a shit load of snowballs in his arms. That is, if he wasnt the one to start the fight in the first place.

Kaz: shark stare right before the ball is thrown, if that didn't scare the thrower away (because theyre either god himself or really desperate to meet him) and they managed to throw the snow ball, he would calmly wipe the snow from his clothes, not once taking his eyes off them. "they will be picking up parts of you to burn on the Reaper's Barge for three weeks. You'll be alive for two of them." (inej is the exception she can throw as much snowballs as she wants) (she doesnt)

Wylan: a bit confused and embarrassed at first, but will definitely make revenge balls (they cant be called snowballs, theyre a bit too lethal for that) if he's asked to play

Matthias: gets hit by nina's snowball right in the face. Goes on a rampage about how snowballs signify the youth of the winter yada yada yada

Inej: moves aside right before the balls hit her on pure instinct. By the end of the fight she has the grand total of three snowflakes on her clothes and that's about as much snow that was able to touch her.

[chaosoftheages]

Mango after becoming king: Respect! Power!

Purple: BANANA!

Mango, remembering Purple is technically still a child: Banana!

[descendantofthesparrow]

Harry nonchalantly kissing Uma for the first time

Harry, cleaning up a small mess Uma had made while she was stressed tf out about something: just forget about it *kisses her forehead and starts to finish cleaning up* forget about it.

Uma: *buffering* was that a kiss?

Harry, not realizing how big of a deal that little forehead kiss was: aye? that was a kiss *he goes to walk around her, she stops him*

Uma: kiss me again.

Harry stares down at her, then gives that little side smile, kissing her forehead again. Uma takes his face, drawing her fingers up his jaw and against his lips-then brings him for a real kiss, her heart doing jumping jacks as Harry melts into her-their first kiss of many.

[th3archivisst]

Hannibal, meeting Will: Oh, It’s adorable

Hannibal, not even a minute into psychoanalyzing Will: Oh, it’s traumatized

Hannibal, not even two seconds later: Oh, it has anxiety

Hannibal, a few days/weeks later: Oh, it’s a murderer. Okay ^///v///^

[cobaltsapphire]

Sometimes we hate the main character so much we forget that they were just a child.

[nervouslaughter05]

Stars to Comfort a Lonely Moon

C/W: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kissing, Angst, inspired by "dont look for me in the sunset when I die", inspired by the song "It's Called: Freefall, really sad and angsty, kinda happy ending?

A/N: I'm so sorry this is the first work I bring to the fandom, but this has been living in my head for the past week and I finally decided to crank something out for this today during some free time I had. "Grizzly", the woman in this piece, is an OC I made who is very near and dear to my heart. I have a fic (that's much happier) in the works at the moment that I'll begin to share once I've gotten some decent headway on it. Chapter one is actually almost done! So maybe in the next few days?

Also, please heed the tags and comment below any you find necessary.

Last chance to turn away. I will be completely honest when I say this wrecked me a little to write. Considering you've stuck around this long, enjoy the piece.

Recommended listening: "It's Called: Freefall" by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Inspired by this TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@bejadoodles/video/7203248315381714182?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7195436189938271790

Called to the Devil and the Devil said

Hey! Why you been calling this late?

It's like 2 A.M. and the bars all close at 10 in hell, that's a rule I made

Anyway, you say you're too busy saving everybody else to save yourself

And you don't want no help, oh well

That's the story to tell

Death was something Ghost had come to accept as something normal in life. 

With the horrors he’d seen, the people he’d lost, the stories he was told, it wasn't exactly unusual. 

He didn’t rush into danger trying to die purposefully, but it was definitely something where if he were to be injured gravely he wouldn’t complain at the prospect of dying.

At least, that’s what he had told himself for years. 

Upon joining the 141, this was still true. 

After Las Almas where he had dragged Grizzly, unconscious, from the bullets pelting down around them and guided Johnny, injured, through the city, this lessened slightly.

After sharing a quiet moment with Grizzly when they had to hunker down in her father’s house in Alaska, this faded to a murmur. 

After the first time they kissed, this evaporated.

That’s what made right now so terrifying. 

Because suddenly he was actually wanting to live, wanting to claw his way from the grave just to keep breathing crisp air through his broken lungs. 

Seeing her sent a sharp stab of something he didn’t want to name through his chest. She was limp, blossoms of red unfurling from beneath her glove covered fingers. He stumbles, collapsing onto one knee onto the dirt.

“What do you think of the idea of looking at a sunset to remember someone who’s died?” Grizzly asks, leaning back on her hands from her spot sitting in the grass. 

He glances at her from his peripheral vision, shrugging. “I’d rather have someone look at the moon.”

She turns her head to look at him. “Why’s that?”

“It stands out like a sore thumb and despite that, it’s alone.”

Grizzly shuffles, trying to raise her upper body up. He gets back to his feet, limping to her prone form in the grass. His other leg gives out this time, sending him back to the ground. Ghost doesn’t care–he crawls to her, shifting so he is sitting upright against a rock in the middle of the clearing with her cradled in his lap. She breathes shakily, hand clutching at the red seeping through the fabric of her shirt. 

With her free hand, she reaches for one of his, tangling their fingers together. Then she pulls back, tugging off her glove with her teeth and prompting him to do the same with a weak whisper of his name–not the callsign, but Simon. Her hand is small in the grasp of his own, somehow still not nearly as calloused and rough as his own. 

His own wounds are forgotten in that moment and the stabbing pain in his head is pushed away in favor of the sensation of her fingers against his.

The woman fell silent, a thoughtful expression slipping onto her face. Eventually, when Ghost was sure she wouldn’t say anything, she murmurs, “Then look for me in the stars.”

He is silent, looking up at the night sky.

She waits a moment before continuing, words equally as soft as before. “So the moon won’t be alone anymore.”

Night was fallen, covering their forms in the gentle light of the moon and the harshness of the shadows around them.

The moon hung in the sky, stars twinkling into existence around it. They blur together in his sight, and that’s how Simon realizes he’s actually crying. The moisture dampens his balaclava, making it stick to his skin uncomfortably. 

The hand clutching her side reaches up to his mask, tugging on the edge of the balaclava resting on his neck. Simon doesn’t hesitate, tugging the balaclava off his face and mussing up his hair in the process. The blood flooding from her wound is slowing down, leaking in a lazy stream now. 

She smiles up at him, looking behind his head at the sky. “The stars are out.”

Simon chokes back a sob, nodding his head, his free hand cupping the back of her head. “So’s the moon.”

Ghost looked over at her fully, eyes trailing over the way the light of the moon fell over her features. Her eyes shone in the darkness, filled with a depth he wanted to drown in. She looked at him with nothing but honesty. It tugged at something in his chest, stirring the grieving beast inside of him. 

“What if the moon wants to be alone?”

“Simon,” she breathes, breath going shallow as she winces. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, pulling her close as a fog begins to settle over his brain. It urges him to sleep, to close his eyes and fall into the abyss. “Don’t.”

It’s all he can manage to say past the choking lump in his throat. She seems to understand, grasping his shoulder to pull herself up. Hand still grasping his own, she brushes the other over his cheek, cupping it in her palm and resting her forehead against his. He holds her close by the hand on the back of her head, helping to keep her upright. 

“Simon,” she says, voice full of reverence. “The moon won’t be alone anymore.”

“It doesn’t,” Grizzly replies easily, looking back up at the sky. “The way he acts says the opposite.”

She looks back at him again, gaze soft. He meets her eyes, that feeling stirring in his chest again. It chips away at the walls he put up, spilling through the cracks. 

“But the stars won’t shine,” Simon tells her, holding her as close as he can. 

She chuckles again, breath ghosting over his lips. “The stars only shine so long as the moon does too. They can’t be-” She winces again. “Can’t be separated.”

One of his hands reaches up, bare palm against her cheek as his thumb strokes underneath her eye. She leans into his touch, tilting to lay a gentle kiss against his skin while holding his palm against her skin with her own. Ghost doesn’t know who leans in first, but before he knows it, his balaclava is shoved over his nose and their lips are slotted together. 

It’s soft and tender to start with. 

Then that ugly thing in his chest rears its head, pressing him to hold the back of her head and kiss her harder. 

Grizzly responds in kind, hands roughly grasping at his shoulders. 

She falls back onto the grass, his body over hers as he worships her with his touch.

“No?” Simon questions, wishing that he could just mold their bodies together. 

“No,” she affirms, eyes starting to drift closed. “Never.”

He hums, and she nuzzles closer. 

The blood–hers, his, it doesn’t matter anymore–is sticky on his clothes, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“And the stars could never shine without the moon,” Grizzly growls against his lips.

He swallows the sound of her voice, staking a claim on her from the searing kiss. He takes and takes and takes and she just lets him, taking and taking and taking in her own way. They were both broken and hurting, granted at different levels, but still were coming together in a clashing of emotion. 

It burns and soothes the ugly thing in his chest, nourishing and depleting his soul at the same time. 

Her hand falls from his cheek, eyes fluttering nearly shut as the rise and fall of her chest stills. He can feel the own aching in his body fading into a numb sting, eyelids as heavy as her body in his arms. Simon exhales, breath dispersing in a puff of white into the cool air. 

The darkness swallows him whole, except instead of painful it’s gentle. 

He doesn’t fear it–just like before–but because of different reasons this time. 

The embrace is welcome, because he knows that there’s someone waiting on the other side. 

A/N: I'm sorry for putting you guys through this

[theangrykimchi]

Oops! It didn't go as Thor expected...

[bluelead35]

an excerpt from “i am the king of kings.” by blueleader12 on a03.

found here on archive of our own!

The scribe’s mind was a meticulously crafted work of art as it never stopped thinking. Even inside the darkness, his brain was working on every possible way of getting out of a situation. He pondered the possibility of breaking out now, tearing the ropes laced around his form, and disappearing into the moonlight and the endless piles of dust, but something intrigued him. 

If they wanted Cyno, they would lure him in with matters concerning justice and maybe throw in a pun. If they wanted Tighnari, they would lure him using Cyno. 

If they wanted Canadace, they would lure her using the people of Aaru Village. 

But because they wanted him-Alhaitham, they called to him through poetry. 

Before his eyesight returned, he could hear the crackling of a fire next to him, and the shuffling of soldiers out of a tent he assumed. He sat still awaiting for this eremite’s next move. With a swift movement, his eyesight was restored, and met eyes with him once again. 

“So you must be the scribe, right?” He chuckled, a hand snaking up to hold Alhaitham’s chin up. 

[stray-cattt]

My Hand & Yours

A Bungo Stray Dogs hurt/comfort fanfic, mostly angst. If you'd rather read it on A03, here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49790131

Summary: What if things had gone differently after Odasaku's death? Basically that but inspired by: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8YgoMWj/

Content/Trigger Warnings: Blood, throwing up, brief mentions of self destructive habits, survivors guilt. Be sure to take care of yourself!

With empty eyes Dazai finds himself walking to Bar Lupin mindlessly. His body takes him through the streets of Yokohama, not even processing where he’s going, as if his mind is stuck on autopilot. Odasaku’s blood still moist on his hand, seeping into his skin. His skin was so pale he could’ve been mistaken for a ghost, just a spirit passing by. Dazai had nearly made it to the bar when Chuuya passed him, the smoke from his cigarette polluting the air. Quietly, with little thought, he muttered,

“Odasaku’s dead.” 

The words hung densely in the air, such words Dazai never imagined he would speak. 

Chuuya stopped in his tracks, his cigarette hitting the damp sidewalk. Wordlessly he turned around and engulfed Dazai in a hug. He was still before crumbling to pieces in Chuuya’s arms. His body began trembling as his knees buckled beneath him, sobs racking his body as he screamed into Chuuya’s arms, garnering stares from strangers passing by.

“I’m sorry,” Chuuya mutters,

Dazai grasped Chuuya’s shirt as though his life depended on it and his voice began to crack raw from screaming. His breathing was uneven, his knees now damp as they pressed into the sidewalk, soaking the rainwater into his jeans. Through it all Chuuya held him there, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and running a hand through his hair. 

They paid no mind to the eyes of passersby and stayed there until Dazai’s voice could no longer be used. Till his tears could no longer produce and all he was left with was the emptiness he felt inside. Something inside him had changed, and would never be the same. 

Without warning Dazai let go of Chuuya’s shirt turning his head into the alleyway to the left of them and threw up what little was left of his stomach. His throat burned from excessive use and now the bile that had crawled up his esophagus. Dazai dry heaved as Chuuya rubbed his back trying to soothe him. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state broke Chuuya’s heart into pieces, never in his three years of knowing him had he seen him shed so much as a tear.

Dazai shook, letting out sounds of anguish as Chuuya wiped the remaining residue off of his mouth with his sleeve.

“Let’s go home,” Chuuya said, helping Dazai to his feet. Standing on shaky legs Dazai shakes his head, more tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“Come on,” The redhead says, leading the brunette away from the stench of the bile in the alleyway. Dazai doesn’t fight back as Chuuya takes his wrist in his hand leading him back to the Port Mafia dorms.

“This isn’t the way to my container,” Dazai mumbles, furrowing his brows together.

“I know,”

Dazai grumbles and lets Chuuya drag him along anyway. As they walk Dazai finds himself longing for the burn of sake, and the self-destruction that later follows. He finds his mind quickly turning to self-destructive thoughts beginning to spiral. 

I could’ve done better. 

I could’ve saved him.  

Why am I so pathetic?

Why couldn’t it have been me?

Soon his thoughts got the best of him, stopping him in his tracks as he drowned within the confines of his mind. His brain was a swirling storm of destruction, he was slowly losing himself, his breathing catching in the back of his throat. Only were his thoughts nullified when Chuuya put a hand on his cheek, slightly caressing his face with his thumb. Dazai felt the thoughts leave his mind as he could only focus on the heat coming from Chuuya’s hand. Dazai leaned his head into Chuuya’s hand, closing his eyes. The two stayed there taking in the moment for a few minutes more.

“Let’s keep going, we’re almost there.” He says running a hand through Dazai’s hair before taking his hand off of his face and intertwining it with Dazai’s. 

Wordlessly the two of them walk into Chuuya’s small apartment in the Port Mafia’s dormitories. Once inside Dazai stands in front of the door not moving. After removing his shoes, Chuuya bends down and removes Dazai’s shoes and leads him to his bathroom. Chuuya grabs Dazai’s blood-stained hands and leads them to the sink. Flinching back, Dazai holds his hands to his chest.

“Dazai, you’re going to need to wash your hands eventually. The longer you wait the harder it’ll be,” Chuuya takes Dazai’s shaking hands in his own and slowly leads them to the sink.

“Can I turn the water on?” He asks softly, not wanting to try and pressure the other. Dazai gives a small nod, the redhead turns the water. The brunette lets the warm water soak his stained hands, watching as the blood mixes with the water running down the drain. Tears begin to fill his eyes as Chuuya starts to clean off his hands with soap.

“He’s really gone isn’t he?” His voice cracked, a single tear falling from his eye. “I’m never gonna see him, hear him, or talk to him again.” Dazai lets out a heartbreaking sob as he collapses to his knees. He stares at his hands, the ones that not only held Oda when he was in his last moments, the ones that held the responsibility of single-handedly murdering hundreds of people. His hands, although they were no longer stained with blood, Dazai could feel it still. The blood crusted up beneath his fingernails, the red substance gone but not forgotten. A thin hint of iron carried in the air. 

Chuuya turns off the sink and bends down next to him watching him with calculating eyes, trying to figure out what’s running through his head. Dazai looks up at Chuuya, his eyes unreadable. The following question he asked the redhead he never thought he would in his seven years.

“Will you leave the Port Mafia with me?” Chuuya looked at him with wide eyes at a loss for words. Silence hung in the air between them.

“The hell Dazai?” Chuuya asks in shock, trying to understand if he had even heard the brunette correctly.

“I can’t continue on like this,” Dazai shakes his head, staring at the floor. “Oda-” His voice cracks as he starts to shake again. The brunette clears his throat and tries to speak again.

“Odasaku, he told me,” Dazai struggles with his words and takes a deep breath. “He told me to be on the side that saves people, to become a good man. Something I’m not, and if I want to fulfill his wish I can’t do it here.” Dazai spouts on the edge of another breakdown.

Chuuya takes in Dazai’s words, letting them sink into his bones as he processes what Dazai told him and asked of him. While his loyalty to the Port Mafia is strong, his loyalty to his partner is stronger. Silently Chuuya nods, running a hand through Dazai’s hair and whispers a soft yes.

Dazai lets himself fall forward into Chuuya’s arms. He had half expected him to tell him no given the extent of the request, but another part of him didn’t even know why he asked Chuuya and dragged him into this mess that he saw as his alone to bear.

They sat together on the floor of the bathroom holding each other trying to come up with a plan to leave since they needed to act fast but decided they needed to rest first before they could solidify any plans. 

Once in Chuuya’s room, they both changed into pajamas and crawled into the small bed facing one another. They lay there in silence, neither of them daring to speak a word after everything that had occurred in the span of a few hours. 

Chuuya noticed a distance in Dazai’s eyes, it was one of those moments where he was lost within the depths of his mind again.

“It’s not your fault, you know. You don’t have to carry that burden,” Chuuya spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Dazai met his eyes with a solemn look.

“But I-” Dazai started only to be quickly cut off by Chuuya.

“No buts, I’m serious. It’s not your fault.” Chuuya says firmly, putting a hand on Dazai’s shoulder.

Dazai shakes his head and closes his eyes before changing the subject swiftly.

“I need sake, or some other distraction.” He whines, frowning. 

Chuuya takes his hand and carefully caresses Dazai’s cheek.

“What you need is sleep,” Dazai’s frown deepens but Chuuya ignores him and instead pulls him towards him, giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead. 

He holds the other in his arms as they lay together underneath the blankets. Any grumbles of resistance stop as soon as Chuuya’s hand starts to play with his hair. In Chuuya’s arms, Dazai finds himself relaxing and drifting off to sleep peacefully for the first time in nearly a decade. He nuzzles his face into Chuuya’s chest, holding onto him tightly. Chuuya simply hums and plays with the brunette's soft messy hair until he falls asleep. Once Dazai is asleep Chuuya lets himself drift off into a dreamless sleep with Dazai in his arms. 

The two of them lay together their limbs entangled with each other sleeping peacefully as the moon’s light filtered in through the curtains. 

Whatever happened, the two of them had each other.

[averagelonelypotato]

yk maybe it’s time I just start being cocky af, acting better than everyone else when I speak french to develop an alter ego that uses french as a strength ✨