#;;oof

[cxpedcrusxder]

Do you think your father would be proud of who you've become?

Interview Bruce Wayne//Unprompted Asks~~

🦇—-;; "I-" Bruce pauses, brows furrowed slightly. "I'd like to think so...but, I really don't know...I do want him to be proud of the man I am today, but there are days I feel he would be disappointed...I guess I will never really know for sure."

[in-nightmares]

@oldmankingsmen from here

The door opens— and it isn’t Arthur on the other side. Short, standing at about a foot and a half shorter than Arthur, at about chin level (though his hair stood tall, so tall it reached Arthur’s eye-level), there was a man with orangey yellow hair, yellow sideburns, and the bushiest beard and brows a man could really have. he had on a dark orange, almost brown vest, a white shirt that jutted out with his gut, and a pair of bluejeans that needed hemming over brown shoes, held up but a large gold plated wrestling belt.

Fingerless gloves creaked as he looked Arthur up and down. Lance’s expression was something akin to a deer in the headlights, seeing the state of him. His brows rose several inches, nearly competing with his hairline. “Uh. He ain’t in. Haven’t heard from him in a few days.” There’s a pause as he clearly fumbles, staring at Arthur. “You look like shit, kiddo.”

Arthur’s pupils were huge, and he had to squint against the way that light now bothered him. He didn’t know where Reverb was, why the demon hadn’t woken up to rain hellfire on him, but it was... good. This was good. He just wanted to be near his only friend in his last moments. Never once even having his residual mental capacity to think about how unfair that might be for his dear friend, to clean a dead body out of his apartment. Stumbling and dizzy Arthur has to keep himself held up on the door frame as it opens, waiting for the horrible colors in his vision to fade so he can focus on who’s answered.

The person that finally somewhat comes into focus has those tears that had been welled up in his eyes spilling over in a moment. “U...Uncle Lance...?” His words slur, and in his confused state he can’t even imagine that this wasn’t his own uncle. It brings the poor mechanic to his knees right in the doorway. “I know I haven’t been home in so long it wasn’t my fault I’ve been in a lot of trouble I’m so sorry can you—“ a sob rips it’s way out of his throat. “Can you just stay with me, for a little while, please. I’m dying and I don’t wanna die alone Uncle Lance.”

[griefprofiled]

also moulin rouge hits different when u realize the reason she couldn't see who zidler was pointing at across the room, was because she was having vision issues from dropped oxygen levels in her blood on account of what was already extremely progressed tb and from having literally passed out due to it literally ten minutes earlier :/

[voiicefound]

[ask-the-ghostlyfigure-idvau]

"Yes I'm dead, It's actually more fun down here kicking Leo down the stairs than that place up there"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

(@black-mead)

[in-nightmares]

*stabs reverb in the kidney*

merry fucking crisis

Eyes widen ever so slightly, frozen for a few moments before trailing down to the knife. Head tilts curiously. What a new feeling. It was... agony. Red hot and stinging. A twisted, twitchy grin drags itself onto his face, despite his entire body feeling like it was experiencing little shockwaves of pain “Now this is what your human holidays should really be about.”

Tears flow from his eyes, thick and heavy. But they weren’t his— Arthur could feel it too, y’know!

[in-nightmares]

“I can’t keep living like this...” It’s a heavy, sad sigh, accentuated by a head falling into his hands sorrowfully. He’s down there in those cold caverns, mourning in his corner of their cave. A rare occurrence, Reverb had decided to sleep— leaving Arthur all alone. “This isn’t even living, I’m barely alive at all.” He tries to see his own hands in the darkness but it’s useless, only Reverb has the ability to. There are shapes he thinks he sees vaguely, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just his imagination or not.

But what could he do? It’s not like he could just up and die. No, he wasn’t that lucky and besides— there’s no way he could do anything without the demon noticing and stopping him. It was hell. To be prisoner inside of his own body, forced to do terrible things, all alone... he couldn’t take it anymore. There wasn’t even anything that he could do, except cry. So just like all the other times that’s what he settles for; huddling against the corner trying to warm himself up, and crying to the darkness. Just to wait until he doesn’t have to be in control anymore.

[voiicefound]

lydia will probably never deal with her trauma enough to let herself have children because she's afraid she'd snap and become her mother send post