What would Jason do if he lose Dick? Either by him dying or disappeared.
Thank you for the question, ano.
1. He goes gaga.
2. Haha, sorry.. but honestly, I would too.
3. If Dick dies, Jason will definitely dump him into the Lazarus Pit or dig up every possible way to resurrect him. If Dick disappears, you sure as hell Jason would flip up this whole universe looking for him.
4. Seriously, he would fight trying, but if both options are unavailable, he would go mental, killing and seeing the world in pure black and white. It’s a world of a kill or a no, just like Two Face’s coin.
5. Because every criminal reminds him of Dick, of the one who took him away, and why mercy and morals will never work.
6. He would blame Bruce for letting Dick die or vanish off their life, for not being there when he needed him the most, for not trying.
7. He would be brutal, he would be ruthless, but also, he would be reckless.
8. Because who fears Death the most? The one who has died before.
9. And who fears Death the less? The one who got nothing left to lose.
P/S: Why you people keep asking for angsty stuff like this? It breaks my heart just imagining about it (´；Д；｀)
I’m so tired of seeing people act like Troy got killed for no reason or for “shock value”. Madison killed him because he took a safe place away from her and her children for no reason. She was doing whatever she could to keep the peace and to keep that place safe and he ruined it for no reason. Ophelia died and Alicia almost died as a direct result of those actions. She did her best to help him and to save him but he couldn’t be saved. After everything she did for him, even saving his life he still destroyed their home on purpose. He didn’t care who died or who he hurt with that hoard. She can’t spend all her time babysitting him so he doesn’t do something stupid again and get people killed. At the boarder he had a hand in killing probably hundreds of people for “research” and at the ranch he killed hundreds more. Stop acting like he was some fragile kid who never did anything wrong or that Madison is supposed to magically help him somehow.
- how they all watch each others backs while walking through the school
- Stan calmly explaining about the bar mitzvah
- Eddies little hands over his mouth when Richie was freaking out about his missing poster
- also Richies glance to Eddie when he’s freaking out about his missing poster
- How Richies glasses make his eyes look slightly bigger
- Bills quivering lip
- How quick they were to accept Mike and Ben into their group and how quick Mike and Ben fit in
- Beverlys rings
- Blonde kid in Henry’s gang looks like Draco Malfoy
- Eddie’s so small and cute I love my son
- Richie holding Eddie’s face after they find Pennywise attacking him
- Every time something happened with Eddie and his asthma whether is was just him using his inhaler or the fact that he could barely breathe when Pennywise was attacking him just makes me want to hold him forever
- Eddie buying Richie ice cream
- Bev just looked so scared covered in all that blood I’m in love with her
- “Derry started as a beaver trapping camp.” “Still is! Am I right boys?”
- We didn’t see Bill with his parents much (his mother not at all) and I just think that shows how alone he was in his need to find Georgie, and why he felt so betrayed when his friends gave up too
- Ben’s room ❤️
- Eddie’s little red shorts
- Bev: “I need to show you something?” Richie: “More than you showed us yesterday at the quarry?”
- Beverlys slow-forming smile
- Richie and Eddies long ass hug at the end
- Eddie looked so sad when his mother took him away after he broke his arm he was just so sad
- Henry’s shaking hands over his face when his dad shot the ground next to him
- “Nothing like a little fear to make a paper man crumble.”
- Stan Mike and Eddie all in the “Bill no what the fuck” club
- Richie eventually joining this “Bill no what the fuck” club after Eddie was put in danger
- “Bills gonna kill you!” AKA Georgie’s fear of disappointing Billy. (Fuck you, Pennywise.)
- The way Pennywise looks at Richie after he calls his lair a “crackhouse”
- “Don’t breathe through your mouth.” “Why?” “Because then you’re eating it.”
- That was Eddie coming out of the Matress? I didn’t realise it was him the first time.
- “Not every plant is poison ivy, Stan.”
- Pennywise used Eddie to lure Richie (cue me sobbing)
- Stans little bunch of curls peeking out through his bandage
- Bens lil nose
- Mike always looks so scared and worried I just want to protect him
- Bills pyjamas that are almost to small for him in the beggining of the movie
- also the cinematography in the beginning (well, the whole movie actually) is beautiful and part of the reason I love this movie so much
- Ben’s cliché kiss to wake up Beverly has been so overused in the past we all thought it wouldn’t work but it did and that surprised us.
- Pennywise is a fucking hoarder
- The fact that Stan and Eddie left first is just foreshadowing for what happens next and I want to cry
ok one of the biggest things in this episode, in my opinion, is david being a realist.
this whole show he has rarely, if ever, dropped his positive attitude and tried to force it on others. this whole show he thought max just needed a push to unlock his true, happy self, but the reality of the situation didn’t match up with his expectations.
when david realized the reality of the situation, and was face-to-face with max’s pain, he sobered.
he and gwen took max away from the other families. they sat him down and treated him to food. david apologized to max for being blind. he apologized for trying to make him be happy, and this here is the biggest thing for me, he validated his feelings.
he continuously told max he didn’t have to be mad, or cynical, or frustrated, throughout the show with max’s best interests in mind. but here, when he saw all of this, he told max how he had every right (EVERY RIGHT) to be angry, and he said he was sorry his parents didn’t care, TOLD HIM HE DESERVED TO BE LOVED. AND MEANT IT. AND DIDNT EXPECT HIM TO BE HAPPY RIGHT THEN AND THERE.
and that, the fact that david was able to do that for him, the fact that david wanted to do that for him, is everything to me.
I just... I just wanna talk about Matt Holt for a second.
This kid has been to hell and back. On his first mission into space ever he, along with his father and captain, gets abducted and basically tortured by a homicidal alien race. This boy has never left earth. Up until this point he didn’t even know that there was life outside of earth! So, he’s gotta come to terms with all that, and also with the fact that he is now a prisoner who will probably spend the rest of his now very short life at the mercy of these killers.
Then, he gets separated from his father and Shiro. Shiro saves his life and then he’s gone. His father is sent away and this kid is alone. Like really, truly alone. And from what we learn about him, he seems like a pretty independent, self-assured individual. But he’s got two parents, he’s got a little sister whom he’s really close to, I’m sure he had some close friends too. I don’t think Matt Holt has ever really been alone in his life. But then, suddenly, he is.
But this kid, man. This kid makes it. He is resilient. Through a series of events, he is freed from his captors. And what does he do? He doesn’t run away, he doesn’t try to go back to earth. He doesn’t break down and let his experience overtake him. He joins a resistance group and fights. Not only does he fight, but he becomes a ranking officer! Like, he doesn’t know any of these aliens from a hole in the wall and they don’t know him. He owes them nothing. But somehow, he feels a duty to stand with them against the ones who took him away from everything he ever knew and everything he ever loved.
So, he fought and he resisted and made some dangerous enemies. So dangerous, in fact, that it would seem he had to fake his own death and go off-grid so that he wouldn’t be found. Now, this kid is on an unknown planet scouring through transmissions that he can’t really understand hoping to find even hints of clues to defeat the enemy. He is alone once again, in every sense of the word.
This kid should be hard as stone at this point. But when the audience finally gets their first look at him. He’s happy. He’s cheerful. He praises his sister, he flirts with Allura, and he even makes a food pun!
You have a kid who’s been to hell and back. A kid who’s got literal scars from his demons. A kid who, out of all the characters, except maybe Shiro, has had the most traumatic experiences. And yet, he’s still so… bright. He still smiles, and laughs and jokes and appreciates things like how smart his sister is or how pretty a girl is. And I think that’s just pretty fucking amazing.
Summary: In which Bucky falls in love with you, a writer.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 1,531
When Bucky first met you, he didn’t know you were a writer. All he knew was that your coffee was scorching hot when it toppled over and spilled all over the front of his shirt. Your words were rushed as you fumbled over an apology and dug around your canvas bag for something he couldn’t see.
Bucky would learn minutes later that you were on a quest for crumpled up napkins to clean up the mess you’d made. He didn’t have the gall to tell you that a napkin was pointless. There was no way to clean up the mess he was after seeing you. Because, as silly as it sounds, he knew from the moment that you collided with him that he’d willingly withstand the heat of a thousand freshly brewed cups of coffee for another second with you.
Lance was never proud of the one thing that could make him stand out.
(The one thing that made him stand, even in his family, the one thing that destroyed the chances of affection and hugs and attention, the one thing he’d never move past, the one thing that’d always haunt him, the one thing that could get someone killed)
Lance was born with a smooth back, tan skin free of birth marks but full of freckles. Lance was born with beautiful blue eyes, deep tawny hair, and a dazzling smile. Lance was not born with a pair of wings.
Lance was wingless.
Less than 1% of the world was wingless, and that meant those who were….never had good fates. Abandonment, abuse, neglect, suicide rates almost a solid 100….anyone born wingless in this time and age was destined a shitty fate, to die for the lack of something they could not have.
But Lance did not.
His mother hated him with her very soul, but even she wasn’t heartless enough to murder someone, no matter how indirectly. His siblings might laugh with him, might eat with him, but they were never around for more than a few seconds, tossing looks over their shoulder for a parent or aunt or uncle. Lance was hidden away, kept out of sight by his parents and family for his whole life, living in the attic or traipsing the private stretch of beach that had been in his family for years, hearing the voice of the sky but never being able to answer it. (Not like he could without wings, anyway)
But then, he found a way he could.
The Galaxy Garrison, a military school where uniforms over wings were required, where group preening, cuddling, and flying sessions were encouraged but never mandatory. A place he could hide in plain sight and still see the sky. A place Lance signed up for in secret, got a scholarship, and shoved it all at his parents, the father who’d taught him the wingless were useless and the mother who never hugged him. A place that hate crimes couldn’t trace back to and murder his family if his secret ever got out.
It was too good to be true.
And it was. Lance was never the best, always mocked for trying to answer the call of the sky for the first time in his life. It wasn’t like when he’d answered the push and pull of the ocean. The ocean was cool, sometimes cold or freezing, but sage, wise and ready to crash and fall and crest back up. Ready to change, ready to grow, ready to soothe. Content to watch and learn, finding complexity in the simplest things, but brave enough to venture out on it’s own, to try on its own to live up and live past expectatons. The ocean was a gentle hand running over his back, swirling him around in currents of fate and past, gentle but wild, pushing but never shoving.
The sky shoved, but in what Lance saw as a good way. Watching gaggles of siblings and uncles and aunts swoop and soar, thrown out into organized anarchy midair, riding drafts. The sky was wild, insane. It could not sit still, it could not listen, it could not be gentle or understand. It was headstrong or helpful, stubborn or relenting. There was no in between. When it’s chicks matured and reached for the air, the sky threw them out, to the ground or the air.
A few chicks crashed, or came close, but they picked themselves back up, flapped with crooked or straight feathers, and chased the others. The ocean did not work that way. It could mimic, but it would never let it’s young crash or drown unless it was the best choice. Lance was glad for that, though he knew the sky would have pushed him faster, harder, to be who he could be, he knew he’d be the rare smashed egg, splattered on the concrete.
If it took years, he didn’t care. He was alive.
Lance remembers the looks at the Garrison at night or on weekends when he wore a bulky jacket and the issued pajamas, instead of snatching the chance to stretch his wings. The stares, the quirked eyebrows that the kid who joked, flirted, and screamed on a regular basis wouldn’t try for more attention.
Hunk, dear god Hunk, had wings big enough for both of them.
Beautiful, mahogany feathers that glowed golden on the ends when light shined on them. Thick, massive wings that he’d drape around Lance’s shoulder, wings that engulfed him in warmth and affection and took away unwanted attention. Too many people saw Hunk’s wings as plain. Lance saw them as a fucking savior, the first thing to treat him nicely and warmly.
But this savior need protecting from the savee.
Which was why Lance never told Hunk, or the team, that he was wingless.
Even Alteans had wings.
Coran’s were a gorgeous tangerine color, white, brown, red, and black speckles slipping between the feathers and coating them like candy sugar. Allura’s were an exact image of Alfor’s, deep, black wings the color of the vastness around them, silver streaks and dots making constellations that shined in lights.
The team’s may have been Earthen, but god, were they ethereal. Shiro, had a collage of slate gray and white, individual feathers breaking layers of colors, proof of the stress of the Arena. They peaked at the top, and were enormous, taller than Hunk’s but not quite as wide or thick. Pidge’s wings were peaked, but they curved out into cute little floofs. They only reached her hips, not past her calves or thighs like everyone else. They clearly weren’t fully grown, but Lance loved their speckled outsides, the tawny, earthy, color so close to her hair but clearly had a more hay-ish tint.
Holy shit, Keith.
His wings were like giant sparrow wings, angular but not peaked, wide burgundy curtains of feathers that fell to his thighs. They were warm, and firm, like a well trained muscle (which they were, technically). The ends were sharp and sleek, but the shy wing touches he sometimes gave Lance proved they were incredibly soft. Lance was always reminded of a wolf when he saw them; built for fast paced marathons. They were no where near as strong as Hunk’s, but Lance had watched Keith carry a Pidge in a simulated rescue. Wings weren’t designed to carry more than the weight of one person, the person with them.
He would never have a pair of wings.
So he reveled in the freedom that lacking a pair of wings gave him. Lance climbed, slept on his back, swam, and learned how to read emotions through little tics. The swimming came easily, like the ocean changed for him, parted and shifted to let him pass or propel him ahead. Lance knew he did. Wings weren’t an instant evolution. Generations of humans developed the genes and mutations of wings - Lance wasn’t just going to instantaneously sprout gills. He could, however, form a thin membrane as a sideways, second pair of eyelids. The same membrane acted as a moveable filter in his ears to hear underwater, and a slight webbing between his fingers. Strategically placed, retractable fangs a little bigger than his front teeth weren’t hard either.
The most notable change was when his legs stopped kicking, his knees disabled, and they swished back and forth. He could easily switch to kicking, but the longer he spent in the water, the more his legs acted as a single mass of flesh and bone. It wasn’t a tail, and Lance sometimes thought he was imagining it, but it was like a snake’s body, swinging side to side to move forward.
Wings were amazingly expressive, every angry twitch or nervous shuffle gave way to a mindscape, a scope of emotions and thoughts Lance learned to pick up on. Hiding your wings was seen as a sign of fear, distrust, and refusing to show them was a red flag in any relationship, platonic or romantic. It was normal to reach out and rest a wing on someone else’s as a sign of reassurance, and to purposely keep your tucked away meant you didn’t trust anyone with them. Your wings were essentially your life - if they got wet or mutilated you were grounded, tied to Earth and water.
And water drowned.
To his team, Lance was a hallow corpse without emotions. He was jello before it froze. They could hear his laugh, see his smiles, hear his cheers. But without his wings, the team couldn’t read him clearly. It was like they had lost their glasses, and Lance was the blurred board they couldn’t see, couldn’t guess, couldn’t decipher more than a few letters from.
They didn’t know, so they couldn’t understand. Lance wasn’t sure if he ever wanted them to understand.
In the large mansion, isolated from the bustling
city, a place was covered in mystery, a place was covered in death. On these grounds, an atmosphere
so thick laid like a blanket around the house, suffocating the people in it.
One shouts so loud that the people outside-
the butler, chef, and gardener- cringe in hurt. They know what is real. They
pack their backs and get ready to get out. They know what is happening. One,
sadly, is still shrouded from it.
William shouts as loud as his lungs could
Celine? Come out! You got me! This was an elaborate prank, you got me, now,
At first, it was a call for them, come on, pleasepleasepleasecomeout. No one’s dead,
right? But as time went on, it was becoming a chant. A chant of his heart,
for his mind, to keep working, keep moving, keep calling. They’re not dead.
They’re playing a prank.
“Come on William.” He whispered to himself,
fiddling with his lenses. “Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. D-Don’t…” He
swallowed, a sharp short pain in his dry throat. “They’re not dead. Come on!
A voice calls from his back, and he looked at the
corner of his eyes. A cracked mirror.
His friend, reflected on the smooth, jagged surface. A look of anger, vengeance, burning. “Stop.”
understand, Mark.” He grits out in a faux happy tune, but both knew it was
fake as it can get. “Those two- they were— are, my friends. For years! And you know they love pranks. They’ve got to
get out soon!”
The other man steps forward, and it was
only this time did William register the familiar cane in his hands. A surge of
disbelief ran through him, and blindly, as if his body knew what his mind
wanted to do before it instructed him, walked briskly towards the other and
snatched the cane, clutching it close to his chest.
“This- this isn’t yours. It’s Damien’s.
Not. Not yours.” He stammered, not knowing why. Was it anger? Disbelief? Or was
he hurting already? What did it feel to hurt? “You’re not supposed to hold it.
It’s his. Mayor’s.”
“You shut your mouth!” He retaliated, hands
shaking, and he felt his body drop. ‘Stop.’
He yelled desperately in his mind, a
slow hysterical feel creeping in his internal voice. ‘Stand tall! At ease! Parade rest! God fucking-‘
A firm hand landed on his shoulder. A
familiar touch, yet not so. It felt cold, as if owner’s anger that he was
feeling was ice-hot. William blinked the tears from his eyes, and removed his
glasses, drying the tears on them. And-how peculiar was that. He was on his
knees. When was he on his knees? Did he do something wrong?
“Did I kill them?” He asked no one, no one
in particular, absolutely removing anyone around him from his midst. He was
alone in this room, wasn’t he? Or was the man behind him, no, not just a man,
Mark, behind him? “No, no, I didn’t, right? Mark’s alive?”
“Oh god. Oh god. Goodness gracious. I
thought- and Celine, and Damien, and-and-and, and Y/N, right, I didn’t kill
them?” He tried to stand, but his knees were too wobbly, and he had to balance
himself upright. “Mark, I didn’t kill them?”
Mark didn’t answer. The anger that was
projected on his face earlier waned, morphing into something drastic, pitying,
hurting, all at once. “William- I, I’m trying to tell you, please, listen-“
William’s smile grew, a painful one, and
his eyes, oh his eyes, filling up with hot tears.
“Mark, I didn’t kill them?!” He asked once
more, and he stumbled, losing grip. He stared at the cane first before looking
up at the other’s face. “T-Tell me, you’re alive?”
“I-“ Mark brought his hand up to his face,
massaging his nose. “It’s hard to explain, but yes, I am alive, but- but not in
the way that I used to be. William.” He bent down and gripped the steadily
hysterical man. “William, listen to me. I am alive. But I- I am Celine. I am
Damien. We’re both here, but- but we’re dead, William. Do you understand?”
The man stared at him, and Dark, who had
been just letting his anger reign himself in, bit his lip, seeing the absolute
pain in his eyes. Celine and Damien, in his conscious, struggled, gasped. Both
tried to control themselves to project the man they wanted to take vengeance as.
Then they heard the ramblings. The
ramblings, by god, the ramblings,
they figured out, my god, where was
their friend going?
“D-Damien in the body? C-Celine in the
body? That’s- that’s great! They’re not dead! Mark’s not alive! That’s even
greater! No one’s dead! No one’s dead! F-Fuck, no one’s dead!
However when they saw their childhood
friend break, absolutely break, Dark
knelt, and shed a few tears.
“William, please.” He looked at his friend.
The other man stood up, fast as lightning,
and shouted upwards. “No one’s dead! They’re all alive! Hah! G-Good one, good
one!” He smiled, a painstaking, hysterical, twisted, and deranged smile. “That
must be pretty harsh! To be there in there! What do you call yourselves?”
In a small, but relenting voice, he
whispered, “Dark.” And he winced at the bigger smile that took over his friend’s
face. “William, do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
“Yes!” He smiled, and- were those tears? Tears
of a man so far from reality. Tears from a man who can’t accept reality and
forged his own. Tears that signified the great loss of a man.
Dark stood up, and looked at him, with
baited breath. Celine and Damien’s friend’s sanity was long gone. In a broken
giggle, William beamed widely.
“No one’s dead! No one is dead!”
And that was the final straw for Damien. In
Dark’s mind, he paced gripped his lapels as hard as he can, and grinded out
through his teeth his words.
“He fucking did this to him! Look at him!
Fuck, Celine!” He demanded, and Celine watched his tirade, eyes widening as she
saw the anger overtake him. “He took everything away from us! He took me. I
could deal with that. He took you, and I couldn’t. But- but William! The man
was damaged enough as it is! That fucking son of a bitch-“
“Don’t Damien please me, Celine!” His voice
was getting higher. “No matter what we could do, magic arts or not, there is no
way with helping William anymore! All he sees is Dark, Mark’s face, accommodating
us, and we don’t have any way to show him that we’re here. He doesn’t
comprehend it!” He yelled, watching her reactions. “You cannot tell me that I shouldn’t destroy his work, his loved ones,
his life! Look at how he destroyed him without an ounce of thought!”
Celine bit her lip and exhaled. “Damien. I-“
A gunshot suddenly brought them out of
their reverie. Dark blinked, looking at the scene in front of him. A bullet, on
the floor, punctured. William, with a gun on his hand, looking lost, like a
child without their parents. His eyes wide, he turned a questioning look at the
other, who smiled in response.
“You weren’t responding to me.” He laughed,
and something unsettling was in his eyes. “I just wanted to check if you were
still there. With me. Alive.” He put the gun in his holster. “Y-You weren’t
moving, and I know I didn’t put a bullet in you, so you couldn’t have died- but
you weren’t moving anymore, so I figured, why not put a bullet on you?” He
chuckled even louder. “That seems to bring people alive!”
Dark chose to be silent, and Celine could
only sob in her hands, as Damien stood up tall in Dark’s subconscious,
unyielding, and hateful. He watched his childhood friend, his comrade, the man he had grew up with, the man he sought out in times of trouble, break as if he was just a plaything; crumble, as if his sanity was just an insignificant sand in the wind; and disappear into a pit of madness, right before his eyes.
Dark’s body to stand, and hug the other man, whispering reassurances that he
was alive. William would nod and whisper “No one’s dead” again and again, further angering Dark.
This was all Mark’s fault. This was all
Mark’s fault. Mark’s fault. Mark’s fault.
And he will pay.
So. What do you guys think? Hope you like it! Comments will be appreciated ahaaaa
Please bombard me with Pining Sherlock fics. I need some.
You asked for it, you got it Nonny! This is literally my favourite trope in the entirety of existence. I have a tonne of fics, and I’m still sorting all of my bookmarks, so I probably still have more to add. I had SO MANY TO PUT ON THIS LIST, that I had to remove links to the authors, because Tumblr kept deleting all my links. So yes, over 150 fics here below, all from mostly Sherlock’s POV (@holmesthesociopath, this should help with your ask as well until I finish the list of Sherlock POV fics for you)!
Because I’ve been working on this list for over 6 months, please advise me of any broken links and I will do my best to find them again for you!
you know what’s absolutely heartbreaking? andrew wasn’t born closed off and guarded, he wasn’t born stone-faced and unimpressed with the world.
andrew was born as every other infant. he was a toddler at some point, giggling at everything, wide-eyed and curious. andrew probably had a favorite stuffed animal, a favorite blanket. andrew probably hummed along to songs as he finger painted and scribbled everywhere.
andrew most likely tried, and had, friends. he probably played play-pretend, hide ‘n seek, and other silly games we all played.
he wasn’t born “damaged” and that’s the heartbreaking part, the fact that the people who were supposed to protect andrew, love him, care for him were the ones who took all of that away from him.
he was a child like everyone else, and that was stolen from him like everything else was.
Stop. I know who you are. I know what you’ve done. You took my boy away from me! You left him in that place to die! You faked his death! We had a funeral. We buried him. And now you’re asking for my help? Go to hell.
I know who you are. I know what you’ve done. You took my boy away from me! You left him in that place to die! You faked his death! We had a funeral. We buried him. And now you’re asking for my help? Go to hell.
I dont know if this is somewhere on your blog already but what is your opinion of the three kung fu panda villains?
oh boy first of all i lOVE kfp, i dont dislike any villains but i think some are more effective than others, but i think all their designs are pretty equal.
tai lung: i know the kfp movies are homages to the genre and he’s definitely imo the most…cliched one, but that’s because the first movie is still establishing the universe. i do really like his dynamic with shifu
shen: my favourite,i love that they made an evil peacock, he has a lot of good lines. his fighting animation was really cool
kai: when i think of kai all i remember tbh is his Imagine Dragons™ theme (which i like a lot). imo the weakest, mostly because they tried making him funny which took away a lot of the effectiveness
Warnings: Sort of angsty. I don’t know what to file this under. I guess some humor?
Summary: “Did you just stab me?”
A/N: This is for @bladebarnes 4K celebration Writing Challenge. CONGRATS DARLING :) :) :) Permanent tag list is closed. Sorry! Bucky tag list is nearly closed. Others are still open so let me know if you want to be tagged and what you want to be tagged in HERE (in anything but the permanent tag list).