Killing Hope

college classes start tomorrow so in less then 24 hours you will be in a class room, most likely playing a name game or looking at the syllabus and getting stressed or making a terrible first impression bc you came in late but remember to also be excited, bc you may be meeting your new best friend during that godforsaken game and a lot of opportunities can happen in one semester and that project is weeks away ok that’s a lot of time you got this so dont die ok 

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Rover plush is made. And wow I need to learn a lot more about sewing stuff… He’s not perfect but I love him
Now to try and sort out the rest of my cosplay..

anonymous asked:

1:What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Oh boy. So. Like probably every shipper reading TKJ, I felt personally victimized by those last pages that offered a glimpse of WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN, so close, so attainable, only of course it’s not because as Joker himself says, it’s far too late. They’re too entangled in their respective tropes and in this one narrative they’re pushed into over and over, and in the context of TKJ, it’s clear from the start that there could be no salvation for either of them since the story serves as a meta commentary on the state of their relationship in general, narrative-wise and in the context of DC’s publishing model. Still, the comic makes sure to give Joker room to express that he WISHES redemption could be possible, that there could be a way for him to break out of the cycle (which is what he’d been trying to do since the start of the story, and, in a way, so was Bruce, only their means of doing that are so drastically different). When he says, “I’m sorry but no” you can tell he regrets it, that it’s eating him up inside, that for this moment he’s disillusioned with the part he has to keep playing over and over and over. He wishes he could reach out to Bruce in return. He wishes he could find a connection, and in a way he does when they both laugh, but their story dictates that this connection cannot last beyond the ending of the comic. So I was devastated, and I kept rereading it over and over and thinking about possible “what ifs,” and I think at that point I stumbled on a short smutty fic that went with the “what if joker says yes” premise but not in a way I thought was satisfying in regards to the closure I needed, because what I really wanted was something that would explore all the dark and ugly stuff between those two. What would rehabilitation of someone like the Joker even look like? What did Bruce mean when he said they could do it together? What would his role be? How would this process go, and under what circumstances could it be successful? Could it even be successful at all? How would romance work in this scenario, if at all? And so on, and so forth, until the “what if” headcanons began to pile up to the point of overflowing, and I went, “fuck it, imma fic this.” I went with the assumption that Batman actually laughing at J’s joke would trigger something in J that would eventually push him past his initial refusal, that it’d be so unexpected and important to him that he’d want to at least try to accept Batman’s helping hand, aaaand off we went. 

I chose Bruce’s POV because honestly I was excited at the challenge and I found that his point of view was a very valuable writing exercise because his way of thinking required discipline from me. I tend to go overly verbose, which Batman isn’t, so it’s been very fun and revitalizing for me to try out a way of writing that would fit with what I imagine his internal voice might sound like. And the present tense is because I like the effect of immediacy, intimacy and immersion it creates as opposed to the traditional past tense, and it works better for HWA. 

And I think I’ll end here because it’s already turned into an essay, oops. Thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble about this!

This page is for honesty:
And honestly, I am slowly killing
myself in hopes that you will see
and come back to me. As selfish
and narcissistic as that may be
I am holding on to what’s left and
dreaming of a faded out glory.
And I’m chanting your name in honesty
and bludgeoning through brainstorms
which bloom in your memory
but wilt in its absolute absence.
And honestly, I would give up
any amount of my life just to feel
your lips again. But I would rather die
than be forced to let you go,
one more time.
—  When life calls for honesty - Grayson Alexander

Peridot is anything but common

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ty @jvvvk for being the mastermind of the sniper!lance craze and for enabling me to work on my au :’) 

If I were the president, I could stop terrorist attacks against the United States in a few days. Permanently. I would first apologize – very publicly and very sincerely – to all the widows and the orphans, the impoverished and the tortured, and all the many millions of other victims of American imperialism. I would then announce that America’s global interventions – including the awful bombings – have come to an end. And I would inform Israel that it is no longer the 51st state of the union but – oddly enough – a foreign country. I would then reduce the military budget by at least 90% and use the savings to pay reparations to the victims and repair the damage from the many American bombings and invasions. There would be more than enough money. Do you know what one year of the US military budget is equal to? One year. It’s equal to more than $20,000 per hour for every hour since Jesus Christ was born.

That’s what I’d do on my first three days in the White House. On the fourth day, I’d be assassinated.

—  William Blum

the-demon-inside-of-you  asked:

Imagine Bones telling dad jokes to the crew. He would typically say one in response to Jim saying something. Like "I'm hungry" And Bones just smirks and replies "Nice to meet you hungry I'm Leonard McCoy". Spock doesn't get why Jim always facepalms afterwards and why Bones has such a shit-eating grin. Imagine Bones telling dad jokes/ bad jokes to Spock in an attempt to get him to smile. Just Bones telling dad jokes and thinking he is the funniest guy ever.

omfg like one day Bones is like “yeah i’m reading this book on the history of glue.” 

and Spock is legitimately interested because what’s it all about? How long can the history of glue possibly be? and Spock can’t see Jim basically trying not to bust a gasket behind him because Jim knows what’s coming and he looks like a cherry tomato trying to hold his laugh in. 

and Bones gets the widest grin anyone has ever seen him get because he’s finally got that vulcan hook line and sinker 

yeah i just can’t seem to put it down.

and Jim is keeling over and Spock is just like ?????? because he still is curious about the glue? and if Leonard can’t put it down it must be fascinating. 

xzombiexkittenx replied to your post “If you guys wanna give me some short hannigram fic prompts tonight I…”

An old murderous patient of Hannibal’s comes calling on the murder husbands post-fall and is like “why not me?!” and will is a jealous little sinnamon roll

How had Hannibal not smelled the poison in the wine? Perhaps he had, Will thought. Perhaps curiosity had simply gotten the better of him.

They were bound back-to-back, hands half numb from the ropes at their wrists squeezing far too tight.

“Hello, Benjamin,” Hannibal drawled, calm. His fingers stretched back to rub idly against Will’s knuckles. “It’s been some time. Are you well?”

Benjamin. Will had heard Hannibal mention that name before, years ago. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to clear the fog from his mind.

Benjamin’s eyes grew wide. Endless black voids swallowing the light. “I haven’t been well since you ended our doctor-patient relationship, Dr. Lecter.”

“Ending our relationship was in your best interest. I couldn’t help you after Klaus.”

Benjamin spoke through clenched teeth. “You were the only one who could help me.”

Will remembered. The former patient who had come to Hannibal after the death of his lover. Hannibal had given him a referral, for his own good he’d said. Will knew Hannibal had simply cut him loose in the hopes it would be the final push over the edge.

Clearly it had been.

Benjamin had a large hunting knife clutched in one hand. He waved it wildly as he spoke. “After Klaus, after seeing him like that, it made me… feel things I didn’t understand. After finding out what you are, it all made sense. Our connection. We’re the same.”

Will couldn’t help but smirk. He knew Hannibal was doing the same, could hear it in his voice when he spoke. “We’re not the same, Benjamin. What you did to our wine was quite rude.”

“Tell me,” Benjamin croaked, pointing the knife in the general direction of Will’s face, “why him? Why is he so special?”

Hannibal gripped Will’s thumb between two strong fingers. “Will and I are just alike,” he said, voice dripping, slow. “Picture what you felt for Klaus. Let the memory flood your veins and swell beneath your eyes. Recall it as it were the day you loved him more than you’ve ever loved another thing… That feeling is a fraction of what I feel for the man tied at my back.”

Only Hannibal Lecter would taunt the unstable former patient who had drugged, bound, and was currently holding them at knife-point. Will bit his tongue, fighting the urge to do the very same.

“I’ll love you more than he does. I have no limits.”

Will scoffed, unable to help himself. “Please,” he said flatly. “You’ll fall on that blade and save us all the trouble if you know what’s good for you.”

Benjamin snarled, feral and wild. He lunged at Will with the blade and Hannibal swung their bodies around with all his strength, kicking Benjamin’s legs out from underneath him and sending the knife clanging to the floor.

Suddenly, Hannibal’s hands were free. Of course he’d been able to escape all along. Will would expect nothing less.

Hannibal was on him before Benjamin could get back to his feet. His neck cracked quick and clean. His body fell limp against the floor.

“A little help here?” Will pulled at the ropes still binding his wrists.

Hannibal picked up the knife and cut the rope clean through. Will stood and rubbed at his chafed skin.

“You should have killed him instead of giving him a referral.”

Hannibal tossed the knife down. It landed on Benjamin’s back. “He killed three men that I know of after he was released from my care. Patience was a virtue, in this case.”

“I’m not eating him,” Will said, frowning down at the body on the floor.

“And you don’t have to.” Hannibal pulled Will close, kissed the corner of his downturned lips. “We have plenty of leftovers in the freezer.”