#could be read as

[mortalmab]

Merlin puts up a sheet in the armory where all the knights can see. It’s their names in brackets like a tourney list. They were not aware there was a tourney coming up? What is this?

They notice Merlin observing them and making some notations. Not just during practice but all day. When he sees them around the castle, when they are relaxing at the Rising Sun, everywhere. It’s getting unnerving.

After a few days, some of them have moved up in the lists and some have not. And they have no idea why. Sir Ban seems to have bested Sir Agravaine (though let’s be honest, most of them would say they weren’t surprised). Sir Gareth won against Sir Kay and would now be facing off against Sir Devore who had won against Sir Mellion.

Now the knights are on their best behavior whenever Merlin is around. They still aren’t sure what they are being judged on, but damn if they aren’t going to WIN!

The next time the brackets go up, more knights are knocked out of the running for…whatever the criteria are.

The knights are now doing their absolute best on the practice fields. King Arthur commends each of them for their form - on point like he has never seen. Some kind of fire has been lit under them and he doesn’t know why but he likes it!

The next brackets go up and still they are no closer to figuring out why the winners are winning. You would think they would be insufferable about it - like any tournament - but since they don’t know why they were winning, they can’t be sure they are doing the right thing to win next time.

The knights of Camelot are suddenly the most chivalrous, most well behaved, most dedicated to their craft in all of Albion. The people are amazed at their sudden kindness and generosity. Meanwhile each of them grow more and more paranoid as the brackets keep going up.

Quests! Maybe it was quests? The knights start going out on quests and the word fame of Camelot spreads.

Arthur cannot figure out what has come over them all.

Arthur: Merlin, have the knights seemed…different to you?

Merlin: oh, you mean since I put up the lists?

Arthur:…what lists?

Merlin: the lists where they think they are competing with each other.

Arthur: competing for what?

Merlin: I have no idea what they think they are competing for but they sure are working hard to win it!

Arthur: and how exactly are you determining these “winners?”

Merlin: oh I’m just flipping a coin. They don’t know that though and they are all being extra nice to me😁

Arthur: so this was all…

Merlin: for shits and giggles, yeah

#merlin #could be read as #bbc merlin #but also #Arthuriana

[pinkd3mon]

Last post was too deep, I needed to make a shitpost

#Kirby #kirby of the stars #kots #meta knight #Kirby meta knigh #dedede #king dedede #Kirby dedede #kirby king dedede #could be read as #metadede #it was based on the whole sworn partners thing anyway #Kirby fanart #kirby memes #kirby shitpost #do you think meta knight regrets forming an attachment to the biggest dumbass in the Galaxy #meta knight would be happier if he embraced the cringe #if loving you is cringe then i don't wanna be based

[coffeexafterxmidnight]

The Token Human - part 1

So that Welcome Home ARG eh? Eh? You know it right, my followers? You should look into it some, it looks like it's shaping up to be something really, really good.

Anyway I'm a sucker for well-made evil children's characters in horror media so I tried to capture the ✨vibes ✨. I don't feel I succeeded, but oh well. Part 1 of a possible series? We'll see.

Reader [gender not stated] pov CW: Body horror, eye horror, size horror[?], creepy puppets, memory alteration, whump? ask to tag Part 2

Nobody else in Home was quite like you. But nobody in Home was quite like anyone else, either! Everyone was different, and unique, and special! That's what Wally told you when you first moved in. And he was right, like he always was. 

But still. Nobody was quite like you. Nobody had hair like yours, on your head, on your arms and legs. Nobody had skin like yours, soft and squishy in a different way than everyone else. Nobody had eyes like yours or ears like yours.

Nobody had hands like yours. And you noticed that right away the first time you held hands with them in a game. You had five fingers total. They had four.

You were pretty sure you were human. Julie was human too, but… a different kind of human, you were pretty sure of that, too. Really, everyone just seemed to be… them. Frank was Frank and Howdy was Howdy, Eddie and Julie and Poppy and Sally and Barnaby were all themselves too.

And Wally…

Wally was your best friend.

That's why when he invited you to his Home, to prepare a surprise party, you jumped right at it. You were always up for a party! You were too big for most of the games they played but you could put up the decorations and light the candles on the cake and clean the hard to reach spots your friends couldn't! You were a perfect fit in Home-

Wally called your name.

"Be careful!"

Bit late for that. In your little thought train you stepped back and right off the little ladder you'd been standing on to clean. It wasn't a bad fall, the step ladder was built for your friends after all. No, it just knocked the air out of you. But it reminded you of something else.

Your friends… didn't really seem to feel pain.

"I'm okay!" You called out as the air returned to you.

Wally had been standing nearby with one hand over his mouth, but lowered it slowly. His smile returned, and he laughed.

"Silly, silly," he said between the distinctive sound of his amusement. "You were thinking too hard!"

Yeah, you were. You laughed with him and sat up. He stood over you now, his soft little hands helping you stand. 

"What were you thinking about?" He asked. "Was it the party?"

You hummed, backtracking your thoughts. What had you been thinking about, really? What set that train of thought rolling…? 

"I think I'm forgetting something again," you said, looking at him.

Wally tilted his head to the side.

"Silly," he said. "You're always forgetting things. What is it this time?"

"I don't know!" You said, smiling. "If I knew, I wouldn't have forgotten it, would I?"

You both laughed, but yours faded sooner than his. Your smile fell. What had you forgotten?

A door creaked and swung open. You and Wally turned towards the sound.

"Maybe," Wally said, "you forgot to eat. Let's go in the kitchen!"

"Okay!" You couldn't remember anything else you could've forgotten so into the kitchen with him you went. 

It was a nice little kitchen, though Wally never seemed to use it much unless you were here. He didn't like anyone seeing him eat. In fact, other than apples, you didn't know what he liked to eat at all. He liked sweets, you knew that much…

As you looked down at the colorful kitchen table, you frowned. You didn't feel hungry, now that you thought about it. You couldn't remember the last time you ate but it didn't seem that long ago. 

Maybe, you thought, running your hand over a scratch on the table, Wally was the hungry one but didn't want to say it. That didn't seem like him though, he was so open and sincere…

Your hand ran over and over the scratch. 

"Hey Wally?" You asked. "What happened to your table?"

Everything seemed quiet.

You lifted your eyes up towards the wall. The quiet stretched on and on. 

You had forgotten something. You had. You knew you had. It was close to you, slipping away from you like dangling strings every time you reached towards it.

It was close to you. Right there. So important. 

What did you forget?

"Wally?"

You looked over your shoulder.

You looked up at him.

Your stomach dropped. With a gasp, you stumbled backwards, away, your eyes wide as you looked at him. Looked up at him.

Wally once proudly told you he was twelve apples tall. You, uh, weren't. You were taller than him by a lot. But now he was tall, taller than you, looking down at you.

He tilted his head.

"Is something wrong, friend?" He said. "You don't look well. Maybe you should… sit down…"

"Wally," you said. "What happened to you?"

His mouth curled up, and your gut churned. That kind of smile didn't fit on Wally's face. That kind of smile shouldn't be possible on his face. He was a puppet - 

A puppet? What was a puppet?

Wally laughed. It shook his shoulders, every syllable moving them in a rhythm. As if string moved his shoulders, but he wasn't that kind of puppet so he couldn't-

What was a puppet?

He tilted his head the other way. Jerked it, really. 

"You're thinking too loud, friend." He jerked his head to the other side. "What do you mean, what's a puppet?" He laughed, ha ha ha. "Silly, silly, silly. That's you. You're my puppet."

His pupils went wide, and it was horrible how familiar it was, the feeling of teeth clenching down on - not your skin not your flesh not your head or your arms or any part of you.

You were. So tired. Like the energy poured out of you into a tiny drain.

My fear, you thought, he's eating my fear.

When he stepped towards you, you heard the click of his shoes on the kitchen tile. Had you ever heard that before? Your mind spun, you stepped away from him again.

"Don't-" you started.

Your name comes from his mouth in a tone you've never heard before.

"I won't," he said. "If you promise to stay."

And you knew exactly what he meant. And you knew you would do anything you had to, so you could go home.

You ran for the door.

It slammed shut.

The handle was meant for puppet hands, not human ones. Your legs gave out from under you as you scrambled with it, nails scratching the wood behind it as you tried to open it. Behind you his footsteps clicked, clicked, clicked towards you.

He said your name again, so sweet, so hungry.

"You don't really want to leave," he said. "I don't believe that at all. I know how much you love it here. We'd all miss you so much."

His arm reached out. His hand, with four fingers, took your wrist and pulled it away from the door. You shook your head, your throat wouldn't make a sound.

"Hey now," he whispered. "No more mysteries this time, okay? Don't go digging into things you don't understand. And everything will be fine."

You felt the teeth again, biting chunks into your mind. The panic. The fear. The dread. Gone, gone, gone. 

My memories - you thought. He's going to eat my memories, too. He's going to eat my memories and put me back at square one. I was so close. I was almost-

You took a deep breath and groaned. Your eyes opened to a strange place, one you didn't recognize for a moment or two. The evening sun streamed in through a window, onto the couch you laid on. You groaned again and covered your eyes with your arm.

"Where am I?"

A familiar voice called from another room. You lifted up your arm, and smiled. Of course. You were at Wally's Home.

"What happened?" You asked.

"You fell off the ladder!" Wally said. "You must've been thinking too hard again. You think too much, I think."

You laughed a bit. "Maybe I do. Falling off a ladder? That's a bad time to get distracted."

You frowned. Wally watched for a moment.

"Did you forget something again?" He said 

You sat up fully with the realization.

"The games!" You cried. "I left the games for the party at my house!"

Wally laughed. Was it just your imagination or did it seem… relieved almost?

"You can get them tomorrow," he said. "It's getting dark. You should stay here for tonight. I don't want you to trip on anything."

You thought about it, frowning at the patchwork blanket draped over you.

It would definitely be bad if you tripped and hurt yourself in the dark, you thought. Wally was right, like he always was.

"Okay!" You said at last. "Thanks Wally." You smiled. "You're a good friend."

#welcome home #welcome home puppet show #wally darling #welcome home wally #welcome home fanfic #welcome home fandom #yes yes this is cringe I know BUT LOOK AT THE SCARY PUPPET #reader pov #gender neutral reader #could be read as #welcome home x reader #yandere wally darling #tagging for visibility #I didn't really intend for it to be that way but if I can see it I think everyone else can too

[stevesbipanic]

When Eddie said "Make him pay." He knew he already had one foot in the grave. His chances of survival were slim, even if he made it out of the Upside Down who knows what would happen to him. Would an angry mob or an electric chair be Eddie's end.

So he asked Steve to make Vecna pay. Pay for what he did for Chrissy, for what he did to Hawkins, for the trauma he put the still living through. Most of all make him pay for whatever my fate may be because this is my last stand.

Eddie asked Steve to make him pay as a boy who already knew he was a ghost. He was passing on a message that the fallen begged from them from the grave. Make Vecna pay for us, for what we could have been.

"Make him pay." was a plea from a dead man tired of running and ready to face death head on. Make Vecna pay in case you don't get back in time and we're already gone. Make sure he pays for the little girl who's baiting him into the trap he probably already sees.

Eddie asks Steve to make him pay for how much he put Steve through. To take that hurt and end it for them all. It won't bring back the dead, but it will let them rest easy. Make him pay so I can rest easy, Stevie.

#that scene just still gets me ahh #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #could be read as #steddie #stranger things s4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #make him pay

[bittersweetstargazer]

okay yeah so I made this off of that one post by @frownyalfred about Clark not understanding that human can sense like danger bc he obviously. isn't. so anyways. there's two of them and they're both short– the 1st one is 600 words and the 2nd one is 400 words because I have other things to do with my life currently and I would probably add more to them and maybe I will in the future but this is the best it's gonna get for now (unbetaed as usual)

Untitled by bittersweetstargazer:

1.

Clark stood next to Bruce as Jon and Damian scurried over to the next house in the neighborhood. He chuckled as Jon tripped and almost fell, catching himself only by using his powers of flight. Damian had grabbed him by the back of his costume like scuffing a cat.

"They look so . . . happy." Clark commented, bumping his, shoulder against Bruce's. Bruce snorted, pointing at his own son.

"Damian looks like he's about to stab Jon. I'd hardly describe that as happy."

"Fortunately, he doesn't have his kryptonite sword."

"Oh, I wouldn't trust that. It looks like his sword is covered in lead. To cover what? The world can only dream."

Clark tensed, trying to look through the (supposedly fake) sword Damian brought as part of his costume, jaw dropping when he couldn't.

"You mean he—!"

"No." Bruce snorted. "He made it out of plastic but covered it in a thin layer of lead to mess with Jon."

"Why is your son making empty threats to mine?"

"Did you really expect anything else from him?"

"Like father, like son, I suppose." They both turned to each other and glared.

"Anyway," Clark huffed, "I think it would be nice if we could just have a nice, calm night of no crime-fighting together, right?"

"And with our children."

"Together. And our children, yes."

Bruce shrugged. "Sure."

Clark's left eye twitched. "Right."

They walked off to go join their children just as Damian started scolding at Jon for messing up their innocent act.

"Imbecile!" Damian hissed. "You said the wrong thing! Did you see how many pieces of candy we got? Five! Do you remember how many we got last year? Seven!"

"I'm sorry! My suit was pinching me and I couldn't focus!"

"It doesn't matter about how uncomfortable you are, you must stick to the script!"

"But I—!"

"Boys." Clark cut in. "You already have plenty of candy. And Damian, you're rich. You can buy more candy anytime."

"It's not about the stupid candy!" Damian scoffs. "Half of these aren't vegan-friendly anyways. It's about how much candy we can exploit from these suckers."

"Damian." Bruce raised an eyebrow and his son fell silent. "Although, I must say, your current strategy is quite succe—"

Bruce tensed, falling silent. It didn't escape Clark's notice when Damian also tensed as well. Hm. His earlier statement didn't seem to extend to just murderous tendencies.

"Bruce?"

Bruce shushed him. "Something's not right."

"Not right?" Clark and Jon shared a look. "Everything seems fine. How do you know? Get a report from O in your earpiece?"

Bruce shook his head, eyes looking around sharply. "Someone's watching us."

Before Clark could even begin to think of a response to that, Bruce jumped forward right as a gunshot rang out, covering Damian.

Jon screamed as Bruce grunted, a blossom of red blooming from his right bicep. Damian scowled, pulling out a sword from a hidden sheath on his body. Jon went white.

"You had that on you the entire time??" He whimpered, backing towards Clark. "Relax, dimwit. It's not made of Kryptonite."

Bruce pulled off his shirt, craning his head to inspect his wound. He hissed as the fabric brushed against the broken skin, spreading the blood further across his arm.

"We should get out of here before our mystery sniper takes another shot. We're easy pickings out here in the open."

He pressed his shirt against his arm, attempting to stifle the blood flow. Clark picked him up and tried not to brush against his gunshot wound as Bruce struggled to get back down.

"My arm is injured, not my legs."

"I still don't want to risk any side effects you might get from blood loss. I know you have a high pain tolerance but transportation would be much easier this way. Also, the faster we can get you to Alfred, the better."

Bruce sighed as he settled back into Clark's arms, lip curling as he was lifted into the air. He heard Damian start to curse in another language as Jon attempted to lift him as well.

"Language." Bruce muttered, head sliding down to meet Clark's chest. Clark simply chuckled and flew down the familiar path to Wayne Manor.

2.

Bruce grit his teeth as Clark landed on his balcony, the familiar feeling of his neck hairs rising washing over him once more. He tried to focus back on his book, but he found it difficult with his body desperately trying to warn him about a nearby threat, which happened to not be a threat at all.

"Hey B!" Clark greeted, his smile unnaturally bright, like the sun on the earth, like warmth on a cold day. It made him shiver.

"Hello, Clark." Bruce replied simply. It was always hard to grit out more than a few words in his presence, as he constantly felt like he should turn tail and run. It was one of the reasons why he chooses to communicate with grunts rather than speaking.

Clark walked inside, plopping himself on Bruce's bed. "Busy today? There's a game tonight and Gotham is playing against Metropolis. I got some tickets, if you'd like to come? I've already asked Lois, but she's too busy following her newest Lex scoop."

"Which is?"

"She's convinced that Luthor's been ordering sex toys filled with Kryptonite as a way to avoid detection. After he was caught last press conference, he tried to play it off as a new product they were planning on branching out to, but everyone knows that—"

"That Luthor's bald head is probably the last thing you'd want to get off to? Yeah, I figured."

"Yeah. Anyways, I'm pretty sure that one she finds what she's looking for she's gonna get one for me as a 'souvenir'. God, I hope she doesn't. That would be awkward to explain."

"Mhm." Bruce hummed, placing his book face-down on the table, unable to even continue the farce of reading it.

"So, about that game? I'll pay for everything if I have to." Clark waved the tickets in front of him, trying to tempt Bruce into accepting.

"Clark, you are aware that I'm a billionaire."

"Yeah, I know." Clark huffed. "Can't I just do something nice for my friend every once in a while?"

Bruce shook his head fondly, reaching over to grab his ticket from Clark's hand, trying to ignore the spike of fear he felt while getting closer.

"B, you good?" Clark frowned at him. "I heard your heart skip a beat or two."

"Fine." Bruce waved him off. "Let's talk about the game. I can't let you sit there thinking your team is going to win while I know very well the Knights are."

"Hey!"

#guys I'm so sorry idk what possessed me to come up with luthor making sex toys #batman fanfic #batman #bruce wayne #dc #fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #clark kent #superman #jon kent #superboy #damian wayne #robin #damian robin #could be read as #superbat #if you prefer #could be read as platonic #tumblr prompt

[bruciemilf]

Sal Maroni: breaths

Battinson:

#actual leaked footage real not clickbait!!!! #wheres my fics of bruce ruthlessly beating the shit out of this man?? #do it for your fucked up husband bruce!!!!!! #dick age 10 after his soft emo dad who cries when he steps on spiders brutally assaulted an ancient citizen: #KICK #bruce wayne #battinson #dc #dc comics #harvey dent #hes coming yall!!!!! #sal maroni #the batman #memes #could be read as #bruharvey #twobats

[blaackbiird]

just some sketches for a fic idea about my burning days HC [ here ]

would take place sometime after Lucifer heals Alastor's wound from Adam, so Alastor is helping him to pay back that debt

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #alastor the radio demon #could be read as #radioapple #myart

[catparty41]

I take my whiskey neat…

I sat down with an idea, roughly 3 hours later…

#peril wof #clay wof #cat does art #blood tw #wings of fire #Could be read as #cleril #wof art #Comic #my first comic I am never able to get these things to work ;-; #hozier #Not really okay about peril #I also have a hunch that there is black mold in my water bottle……..

[spagoleon-tadc]

[At Kaufmo's door]

Jax: [Places his hand on the doorknob and sobs]

Jax: How could you do this to me? We are so understaffed.

#incorrect quotes #tadc incorrect quotes #incorrect quote #incorrect tadc quotes #tadc #the amazing digital circus #jax #tadc jax #the amazing digital circus jax #kaufmo #tadc kaufmo #the amazing digital circus kaufmo #abstracted kaufmo #could be read as #jax x kaufmo #but I'm personally not

[tooomuchtofu]

An old man stands by the side of the grave / And this man’s heart is to heavy to pray / For he is numb with the pain / Of the love that he couldn’t share

[Images ID: a digital lyric comic to Kiev by Renaissance featuring Wolfwood and Vash from Trigun Maximum.

First image: Top half of the image shows Wolfwood in the dark with his arms crossed on a ledge, holding a lit cigarette. Lower half shows Wolfwood with the Punisher slung over his back and Vash grinning next to him. Wolfwood is handing a child a lollipop. The page reads: “He was a man, just a simple man.”

Second image: Wolfwood stands with his back to the viewer, holding out the unwrapped Punisher held out as if to shoot. It reads: “His thoughts and pleasures were few.”

Third image: Top half of the page shows Vash and Wolfwood sitting at a bar. Vash is drunk and laughing, with one arm slung over Wolfwood’s shoulder. Wolfwood is smiling at him. They are both holding glasses of alcohol. The lower half is darker and shows a closer view of Wolfwood, who is looking down at the glass in his hand with a bitter expression. The glass is glowing an artificial blue, which is reflected in his eyes. The page reads: “His bread he shared with his father; that was the life that he knew.”

Fourth image: Image is divided into diagonal thirds. Top section shows the sky, containing two suns, the edge of a ship, and a flurry of confetti. Middle section looks down on Vash, who is seated on a white couch and looking up with a distraught expression. Wolfwood’s arm is visible where he sits next to Vash on the couch. Bottom section is a close-up of Wolfwood’s face. He looks tired and there is a blue glint in his eyes. The page reads “And how the snow fell in Kiev today”

Fifth image: The front of Hopeland Orphanage, a church-like building. Above it in the sky two suns are visible as well as a ship that is flying away from the viewer. There is a rain of confetti. Page reads: “And how the wind drove the mourners away”

Sixth image: Wolfwood stands in the center of the image in an indistinct setting, walking away from the viewer and throwing a wave over his shoulder. The Punisher is slung over his back. Page reads: “Now there is only one man at the grave of Davorian”

Seventh image: Below two suns, the couch is visible from behind. The top of Wolfwood’s head is visible over its back. Next to him, Vash’s head is surrounded by a mess of various crooked yellow wings. Feathers are scattered throughout the foreground. Image reads: “And two men died there in Kiev today.”

End ID.]

#trigun #trigun fanart #trigun maximum #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trimax #trigun spoilers #trimax spoilers #trigun comic #could be read as #vashwood #trimax vol 10 #tofu.art #death #smoking #alcohol

[pollyna]

The parting glass song fic au where Ice knows it's time and has everybody around his table one last time. Even Bradley is there, almost incapable of watching the man in his eyes but, after he and Mav have their dance, he asks for one. They don't move, Bradley hugs him and cries because he realised what the whole meaning of that night and he realised too that they don't have any more time. Ice kisses his forehead and hugs him back, and hugs Mav too, when he joins them.

Oh, all the comrades that e'er I had

They're sorry for my going away

And of all the sweethearts that e'er I had

They'd wish me one more day to stay

But as it falls unto my lot

That I must go and you must not

I'll gently rise and I'll softly call

Good night and joy be with you all

#tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #ice has one last night with everybody he loves around him before he gets in bed and sleeps #could be read as #icemav #or as oneside #tom iceman kazansky & pete maverick mitchell are bradley rooster bradshaw's parents #<- on this i don't want to hear excuses #angst #mcd #song fic #the parting glass by hozier #top gun: maverick

[orangeocelotmartyn]

Drowning

This had happened before, he thinks, in another life.

He was cold.

When he opened his eyes, it was to a dark sky—the only light the full moon hanging in the sky, but it was bright enough.

Bright enough to see that he was back on the godforsaken black heart altar, kneeling off center on the cursed thing, in a congealing pool of blood.

For some reason, the blood didn’t disappear like the body—Ren’s body—had.

He wished it had. It was a reminder of how badly he had fucked it up, how he hadn’t made it a clean kill—it probably hurt Ren, was probably why he hadn’t respawned yet. 

He couldn’t bear to stand, walk through Dogwarts knowing that Ren might not be there anymore, he might’ve just ruined it all, all for a chance that this book Ren had found had the right idea—that summoning a blood god for help was their only hope. 

The sun was just creeping over the horizon when he heard footsteps, but he didn’t look up—too afraid that the cold had gotten to him, that it was a hallucination—or perhaps it was someone coming to ask why he’d killed Ren, drag him off for the illegal move.

The hands that touched him were, if it was possible, even cooler than the air surrounding them, and it made him flinch, even as he allowed those hands to cup his face, guide him so that he was looking up, to meet the (red, blood red) eyes of Ren. 

No, not Ren. The Red King.

“Arise, laddy, ye have done well.”

Martyn stared up at him, blinked disbelievingly, but when the shape didn’t waver, nor did the hands on him, he nodded, and clumsily rose, feeling his knees ache in protest at finally moving after hours of nothing.

As he stood though, he noticed the scar—a jagged, ugly thing, that would tell all who saw it that he had failed—this was a scar that showed clearly how it had come about, and Martyn opened his mouth to apologize—

But was swiftly silenced. “Shush, lad. Ye need not apologize for doing as ye were bid. But I’m afraid that the test isn’t over quite yet.”

Martyn blinked out of it, realizing how close they were, and fumbled at his scabbard, as if he thought he needed to defend himself—but the hands cupping his cheeks hadn’t strayed, feeling warmer by the minute.

His lungs burned, though. Maybe it came from staving off a panic attack, but he was going to power through it, be strong for Ren, who’d need it.

He couldn’t even think about it anymore when a sharp pain sliced through it, and it was clear what had happened, when Ren’s grip on his face tightened, before releasing, taking a step back. 

“Now you shall make a terrible choice, Hand,” he announced, still in that weirdly formal tone. “Are ye with the Red King to the end, or do you take Dogwarts for yourself? Make your choice, lad. Make. Your. Choice.”

The slice on his cheek was dripping blood, mirroring the blood on Ren's claw, as his hand went to his sword’s hilt at the pain, but at Ren’s words, he paused.

His hands and mouth began working before he could, unbuckling his scabbard and dropping it on the ground as he spoke, words bubbling out breathlessly, seeming familiar in his mouth—

The buzzing in his ears hadn’t stopped either making it hard to hear himself even think, but it was okay, Ren was striding back up to him to cup his face again, his thumb rubbing at the cut on his cheek, his eyes nearly glowing as he kept eye contact, pulling back to lick at the blood on his thumb—

The burning feeling in his lungs wasn’t going away—why wasn’t it going away? His king was alive and whole in front of him, had accepted his fealty—he should be happy, why was it so hard to breathe? 

He felt arms wrap around his waist—that couldn’t be right, Ren’s hands were on his face, what?—and they began dragging him away. (Martyn? Martyn—guys—) He fought against them, trying to get back to his king, who was fading away, like he never had been—

They breached the water, and Martyn began coughing up water as Jimmy smacked his back, and it was hard to hear him over the ringing in his ears, but he got the gist that he was worried, oddly enough.

“Cranky I got your kill?” Martyn managed to wheeze out, still feeling the sting of the water in his lungs, which made Jimmy squawk. 

He could tell Jimmy was coming up on a rant, and he was happy for that—he could let it go in one ear out the other while he figured out how to make excuses, go find Scott.

He had to be sure he came back right.

#rendog #inthelittlewood #could be read as #treebark #3lsmp #limlife #renchanting duo #ren #martyn #scott

[achillesuwu]

Looks, Na’vi live in a planet where plant glow isn’t it ? So… their night vision must be terrible. HOWEVER it doesn’t mean that Avatar have a shitty night vision (because why would you not keep that ? just like the 5 fingers, it’s an useful capacity)

I’m just saying that he would be extra funny if Jake & Tsu’tey (because I’m in denial of his death and some people say they removed it in the new release so HE IS ALIVE) walk into a room for whatever reason and… Tsu’tey just keeps banging his foot on the furnitures and nearly falling on his ass/face multiple time. Jake keeps asking him what’s wrong but he just doesn’t want to say because they have the same vision right ? Jake can easily move here why can’t he too ? *proceed to not see a chair and fall right on his face, ass up*

(Also the potential of Jake being a little shit and saying something like : What is it’ brother ? You do not See ? :DD)

#avatar 2009 #avatar #na’vi #tsu’tey #Could be read as #the embarrassing moment of being clumsier than the most clumsy guy around #jake sully #Jake sully x Tsu’tey #avatar 2

[blue-dress-and-ready-to-impress]

slight gore tw

my partner and i were joking around about the scene where akechi throws his glove at akira and then he said "sew the glove to your skin- then he'll be with you forever" and thats been rotating in my head like a washing machine ever since

(the rest is under a cut bc it got really long)

because that's such a good metaphor for their relationship, isnt it? like akira will never be able to let go of akechi fully, and that glove is the only remaining physical presence of akechi. just the love of taking this last bit of a person and making sure that it cant leave you the way they did and making sure theyll always be close to you

even if you take the third semester from royal into account, akira wants akechi back so strongly that his wish from the counselor is to bring akechi back but the glove is one of the things that lets the counselor's akechi know that he's not real

and the fact that akira has to go through both this physical pain of literally having a glove sewn into his skin and the mental pain of always having this reminder of the one person he couldnt save marked on him like a brand and the glove cant grow with him

just sewing the last physical reminder of your greatest rival to your skin as a metaphor for grief

#persona 5 #could be read as #shuake #gore #body horror tw #it was definitely a joke on my partners end #but its been living in my head rent free #goro akechi #akira kurusu

[bruciemilf]

Diana grows up learning the spirit of Themyscira lives in every Amazon. In whatever shape, in whatever form they come.

She's there for every clay forging. She blesses the adorable lump of clay, slowly starting to take shape of something close to a person.

She thinks of Mother's tapestries, the pictures in her books. Of Ares and Zeus, fathers of all fathers. And she thinks who needs Gods when you have sisters?

Sisters accept you and protect you. Sisters are your blood that walks and breaths and laughs. And Diana knows there's tribes that don't accept certain Amazons.

Just because you're born among them doesn't mean you belong.

But for her, it's different. "If they're on the island, they're one of ours. Amazons don't forget their own."

There's a man on the beach shore, with eyes full of sand.

Diana's more curiosity than woman. When her sisters poke at the strange figure with their feet, trying to wake him, or check for life, she simply turns him him to check.

He's young; Hair as darks as nightsky. His face is pale, almost pearly. It reminds her of moonlight, softly spilling down the ocean when it's completely dark.

Her hands wipe away salty water from long, elegant lashes, and looks for a heartbeat down his chest. There's a strange symbol on it. Diana's hands feel like ice.

The Bat makes a noise, a whine, too fragile for a man. But maybe he's more. " We must take him in."

" This is not a place for men."

" No. But it can be a place for brothers."

He's almost frail, wrapped in furs and skins and blankets. His whole body is tense, even in this state of vulnerability. As if he's burdened even in sleep.

But there's names whispered to Diana at night, when she changes sweat soaked shirts, when she tinkers with the belt laid next to him. " Jay. Timmy. Dick. Cass. Duke. Dami."

Perhaps they're his Gods. Or maybe something more important.

When the Bat wakes, he doesn't remember much of anything. He looks at Diana with such wounded eyes, like a beloved deer waiting to feed the tribe and be celebrated for her sacrifice.

The sisters avoid him. Mother knows telling Diana to stay in line would be useless. Besides, she might not be aware of it, but her gaze does soften when he shyly asks for something to read.

He doesn't speak much. Diana does, thought. " Jason, Cass, Dick," she tests the name. So very strange sounding, but comfortable in her tongue. " Are they your lovers?"

The Bat's eyes widened slightly. The mango she brought him fill up his cheeks, making his face round, and her chest warm. " ...No. I don't know what they are but, -- but they're in my heart. They're my loves."

A random flicker of hope passes through her chest.

"Maybe we could go look for them someday. Bring them here."

"Yes," he let's her hand fall in his. They're almost like hers, if not a big broader. Scarred and beaten and cracking. The labor of love. " Maybe we will."

♡♡♡

Jason's body is restless. It's been restless for a year, like a beast getting hunted. Hoping while dying. He's no stranger to that.

" Dick."

His brother's pure sunshine, usually. Or pretends to be. He's got no strength to act anymore. No more power. Gotham is missing its heart.

"I found him."

" Jay, you're upset. I know you are, but,--"

" Dick," He breaths, hard, lungs pumping adrenaline, " When Bruce dies, I'll feel it. I'll bleed all over Gotham again. He's alive. I know he is. And we're going after him."

Dick's voice collapses, in a rare, painful moment of truth. He's not Nightwing, or Batman, or Robin. He's Jason's big brother. He's a legacy of ruin. " You're not the only one who loved him."

"Maybe. But I'm the only one who'll find him. Even if I have to burn my path."

#diana of themyscira #could be read as #wonderbat #but theyre more besties here in my head #bruce wayne #diana prince #amnesia au #dick grayson #amazonian!bruce au #in my mind MAYBE superbat is established #on the other hand. the thought of amazonians beefing with kryptonians because they mistake them for very powerful alien warriors is cool #too bad their prince is dead set on courting one. #text #my writing

[scitties-enjoyer]

Grian is blindfolded, lying on his stomach, gripping tight to the headboard.

The man above him, sat on his hips, leans down, a line of warmth running along Grian's back.

Grian shivers with anticipation.

A mouth comes to Grian's shoulder and presses a kiss to his skin.

Then he bites down, sharp teeth tearing through Grian like nothing, burning pain shocked through his system. Grian writhes and grips the headboard harder as the teeth pull away, ripping muscle and skin away too.

There's the sound of chewing, and of pleasured noises. Of him consuming Grian.

He leans down to lap at the blood welling from the bite, long tongue feeling as odd as it ever does against Grian's exposed flesh and bone. It burns with pain, obviously, but there's something else too, something addictive in its strangeness.

Grian never wants this to end.

Another bite to the same shoulder. The same process repeating. Endlessly maddening.

Later, the sword by their bed will be used to kill Grian, he'll respawn and both Grian and his vex will go about their day.

But for now, they're both going to revel in the feeling of him meticulously tearing away every inch of meat he can get on Grian's back.

#hermitshipping #could be read as #scarian #or #cubrian #cw cannibalism #tw cannibalism