#just want you to walk by me

[malinaa]

if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing

[lilowoof]

[kenntolog]

can you do smth about loser gf n sukunas first date? i love them sm

𝝑𝝔 an: hope u enjoy this :)) read more about cool bf sukuna x losee gf reader here!!

cool boyfriend sukuna isn’t that original(he doesn’t even try to be) so he just takes you to see a movie and then plans to walk you home after that.

you give him the freedom of choosing what movie to watch and he, of course, chooses a slasher. you take the ticket he gives you with an excited grin, which excites him, and leave him to go to the restroom to check yourself out.

sukuna’s gaze doesn’t leave you or the path you walked on even for a minute as he admires the way you put a little more thought into your outfit, looking as sweet as ever, and added a little more makeup to enhance your pretty features. he’s not gonna lie, the way you did your lips really makes it hard to keep himself together.

to his amusement, you are still a little scared by the cheap jumpscares, hand visibly itching to grab his. sukuna spends most of the movie’s runtime watching you, absentmindedly biting the nail of his thumb and smiling at your cute reactions. the way you tightly close your eyes whenever a violent scene is on, the way you hiss and your face scrunches in disgust at the sight of someone’s fake guts on the screen, the way you squeal quietly when you get jumpscared — he finds you so adorable it’s crazy.

sukuna takes your hand at the first opportunity that presents itself: when you’re giggling at something he said and don’t notice a person walking by, accidentally bumping into them. sukuna doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand and pull you into himself, giving the person a nasty glare. you smile sheepishly at him, but don’t let go. he feels very peaceful, like he’s never felt before.

and to sukuna’s surprise, when he is ready to leave your address after walking you home like the gentleman he’s quite far from being, you, the shy loser who is hardly even noticeable if you don’t look carefully around the classroom, come back from your apartment, running after him, and soon hold onto his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to plant a shy kiss on his cheek before hurriedly disappearing into your apartment again.

he can barely suppress the idiotic smile splitting his lips.

[striving-artist]

Tumblr skews young, so let me just share this.

The worst thing you can do in a job is not be bad at something. It's to say you are great at something while being bad at something. If you need to improve and you're upfront that you're not the best, people will probably help or teach or explain. They will sympathize when you get put on a task you're not qualified for.

If you claim to be awesome at something when you demonstrably suck at it, all of that good will and sympathy is gone and it will not come back.

Confident is good. Stand up for yourself, know your skills.

But the other side of this is to Know your Faults.

This message brought to you by the 23yo who bragged about how he was great at X and had the best program for it, and I spent the weekend doing his job for him because he is so so bad at it, and only about 5% of what he did is salvageable.

[lyrics-that-get-me]

Unaware of where I'm going Or if I'm going anywhere at all But I know I'll take the leap If it is worth the fall So long as the blood keeps flowing I'll set a sail and swim across I'm not looking to be found Just want to feel (un)lost

(Un)Lost - The Maine

[batfamhyperfixation]

Jason: the Batfam member I see most as my brother is Tim

Dick: What!!! That's no fair, I should be your brotherly-ist brother!

Dick: No offense Timmy.

Dick, turning back to Jason: But I am the one who has been your brother longest, I helped you kill that druglord, I even gave you some of my cookie dough last week!

Bruce: uhhh, back to the druglord thing-

Steph: You shared your cookie dough with him!

Jason: Sorry Dick, but there is one thing that makes you brothers more than anything else, not blood, or time, but...

Jason and Tim at the same time: Contempt

Jason: I have contempt for Tim, like all siblings should. Really the only thing I love more than hating Tim is shit talking other people with Tim. That form of contempt is how siblings bond and I will just say, surprisingly I love bonding with Tim even more than I love terrorizing Tim

Tim: aww, I didn't know we were that close

Jason, panicking cause he doesn't wanna ruin their dynamic: *punches Tim in the gut and runs out*

Tim, shouting after him: You can't take it back now, you ass

Jason: *turns around while running to give Tim the middle finger*

[littleprincepaladin]

what a hell of a way to die!

[riickgrimes]

Rick + giving Michonne gifts What are you up to, Grimes? I'm just working with what I got.

bonus:

[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.

—

[six-of-cringe]

Looking through Crooked Kingdom for reasons, and before Jesper goes to meet with his dad at the University, it says Wylan lent him a few Kruge to get some more student-ish clothes and I wondered where he got that money from. I now realize that this was shortly after Kaz gave Wylan the 5 kruge from Smeet and told him not to spend it all in one place. And then he proceeded to spend it on helping Jesper. Fungus in my brain

[inkskinned]

you wanted to be a good friend, because you loved your friends, but the truth was that everyone else somehow had a pamphlet on being normal that you never received. most of the time you learn by trial-and-error. you are terrified of the next big mistake you make, because it seems like the rules are completely arbitrary.

you've learned to keep the prickly parts of your personality in a stormcloud under your bed - as if they're a second version of you; one that will make your friends hate you. it feels feral, burning, ugly.

instead, you have assembled habits based on the statistical likelihood of pleasing others. you're a good listener, which is to say - if you do speak up, you might end up saying the wrong thing and scaring off someone, but people tend to like someone-who-listens. or you've got no true desires or goals, because people like it when you're passive, mutable. you're "not easy to fluster" which is to say - your emotions are fundamentally uninteresting to others around you; so you've learned to control them to a degree that you can no longer really feel them happening.

you have long suspected something is wrong with you, but most of the time, googling doesn't help. you are so-used to helping-yourself, alone and with no handbook. the reek of your real self feels more like a horrible joke - you wake up, and, despite all your preparations, suddenly the whole house is full of smoke. the real you is someone waiting to ruin your other-life, the one where you're normal and happy. the real-self is unpredictable, angry.

your real self snarls when people infantilize the whole situation. because if you were really suffering, everyone seems to think you'd be completely unable to cope. but you already learned the rules, so you do know how to cope, and you have fucking been coping. it's not black-and-white. it's not that you are healed during the other times - it's just that you're able to fucking try. and honestly, whenever you show symptoms, it's a really fucking bad sign.

because the symptoms you have are ugly and unmanageable for others. your symptoms aren't waifish white girl things. they're annoying and complicated. they will be the subject of so many pretentious instagram reels. if they cared about you, they'd just show up on time. you care, a lot, so deeply it burns you. you like to picture a world where the comments read if they loved you, they'd never need glasses to see. but since that's a rule you've seen repeated - "one must never be late or you are a bad friend" - you constantly worry about being late and leave agonizingly early. there are no words for how you feel when you're still late; no matter how hard you were trying.

so you have to make up for it. you have to make up for that little horrible real you that you keep locked in a cabinet. you are bad at answering emails so every project you make has to be perfect. you are weird and sensitive so you have to learn to be funny and interesting. you are an inconvenience to others, so you become as smooth as possible, buffing out all the rough parts.

all this. all this. so people can pass their hands over you and just tell you just the once -how good you are. you're a good friend. you're loveable.

[raycatzdraws]

ribbonwood

[medicalunprofessional]

twisted scientist: I have a bunch of brains in jars😁

[chickenoptyrx]

....I just wanted to draw gators :T at this point these 2 are more 'a representation of my last 2 brain cells' then they are actual characters 😅

[herebutnothere]

For YEARS I had heard about TWD but had convinced myself that there was no way I would like a show about zombies. Too spooky. Too gory. Too much.

So imagine my surprise when I see promo for TOWL and it's marketed as an "epic love story."

... a love story??? Sign me the fuck up, if nothing else just to see how they could pull it off.

So I started slow by watching recaps of the first couple episodes and from reactions, I could tell something was there. So I watched TWD-specific recaps and reactions and basically had a grounded understanding of the world and the people. I was hooked.

Then episode 4 came along and I signed up for AMC+ to watch it live so Danai could get her credit. And y'all.

Y'all.

Y'ALL.

That started it all. I went back and watched the first three episodes of TOWL (after watching E4 an obscene number of times) and then I started TWD.

And B*TCH.

Lori.

I have many thoughts that I'll share in due time (depending on my mood—that's typically how I write things and where my focus goes), but the main one is this:

The scene where Lori incites Rick is biblical.

She is the snake whispering in the garden.

She literally curls herself around him.

She whispers (hisses) in his ear.

She plants the seed of knowledge.

She plants the seed of fear.

She shows him a paradise where his family is safe. Where his family is his...

If only...

Because the paradise Lori tempts him with comes with a cost.

And when Rick pays it, it costs him everything.

His friendship.

His marriage.

His son's view of him.

His group's view of him.

His view of himself.

Because the Rick Grimes we as viewers know him to be wasn't the Rick Grimes he knew himself to be. (A whole 'nother essay can be written on his mental health journey during both TWD and TOWL)

That is, until...

Until...

Until...

Until a samurai shows up with baby formula. With strength and tenderness. With protection and grace.

There's much to be said about the true role Lori played in his life pre-, during-, and post- her life and death in the ZA, but this is key:

She was always going to be the downfall of The Brave Man because she weaponized his bravery, care, protection, and love as her own coping mechanism.

And in doing so, she wasn't able to allow—or empower—him to find his own coping mechanism, too.

[jucyfruit]

There is a prism hanging on a string in front of my window. While delaying the writing of this essay, I laid for so long that I watched the rainbow splatters slip from one wall to the next and laid so still that it felt like the sun was orbiting my bed, not the other way around.

Another time I came out was in my first interview with NPR in 2016. They asked me about my friendship with Julien Baker and I listed things we had in common that make it easy to talk, which were our faiths, living in the South, and being queer. I remember thinking did I say that?

excerpts from musician lucy dacus wonders if she ever really came out / photo of julien baker posted by lucy dacus on instagram june 2023