#(mainverse.)

[vannscooter]

when you’re sitting there wondering if the ole man has any ptsd from literally being stuck in other universes, on his own, no tempad and no friends and no loki and how that might manifest into some not great nightmares but he may also not be the kind of person that you can tell he has nightmares; he doesn’t move during them, doesn’t yell or whimper or scream. just has them...and wakes up. and goes about his day trying to forget.

[bloodiyr]

@noctiyr​  :   for you,   the well of the world.  my blood.  viscera.  and flesh. 

 “    we’ll have to find something soon.   I can feel myself slipping now.      ”     a low anomalous dither,  strewn with endemic ache.   how long did you wander this earth before me?    alone,   wanting for someone to arise in your likeness.    [     even now,   I loathe to imagine it.    ]    my malformed mouth,   more a gnashing of razors than something that could reciprocate your kiss.    sanguine darts to iridescent gaze,    prosthetic reaching out for stygian nightmare.    maddening murmurs spoke of a reprieve from their suffering.   give in to us,  we will welcome you as one of our own.   give in to us.   an end to all things:   a peace that would inevitably come from a great godfeed. 

ichor gushed from their nose—   human shape now malignant.   but they were close to something  . . .  not an ending but a beginning. 

[thornbitten]

ocean man - Eidiya & Aluula

       @violet-royalty​

         It was the kind of anger that just kept cutting and cutting and it left him feeling raw and uncomfortable; a hatred stoked by sparks from a blade rather than the flames of a hearth. His taloned fingers curled sharply over his chest, resting lightly over his bloodpusher. Eidiya’s cerulean gaze fixed on the sea dweller that had seemed to teleport himself into what was essentially his backyard. Maybe having a hive so far removed from typical Trollian society that it breached the territory of tyrants was a bad call on his Ancestor’s part.

The troll crossed his arms as if to keep the harsh heat of his blooming hate from escaping into the frigid air. Oh, no. He took a staggering step back, his boot sinking into wet sand by rapidly increasing increments. Soon, he thought, he would be swallowed by the Mystery Beasts that lurked under the beach, their maws waiting for a troll of his relatively small stature to consume. At 6′4″ he stood nearly no chance of escape.

Maybe he hadn’t been noticed yet? Perhaps the sea dweller had yet to notice the way Eidiya gaped at him, teeth bared to the glistening moonlight like some hateful rainbow drinker of bygone times? Another step; this time his boot struck what was likely the bones of some smaller, weaker creature that had been spit up by the sea during its rage. The snapping crunch would have been appreciated under normal circumstances, it was a unique sound that made his long, pointed ears stand at attention. Of course, the sound carried. It became some sort of booming echo that seemed engineered to carry exactly to the sea dweller at his current position in the water.

“Damn.”

[sawdrenched]

Turn a Blind Eye - Dell & Emilia

@blind-discord

        Emilia had a soft spot for kids. Dell was incredibly like them when they had been that age: full of rebellion and bravado. Although they could easily admit they were more well behaved in their youth, as they only started peddling drugs well into their adulthood. Maybe it was the loitering in malls that did that, an easy stepping stone into delinquency. 

It was still very nice to see Dell engaging in a craft he liked even if it meant working for Blank Space. Of course, Emilia had personal bias against the man but he was treating Dell right. That was all that mattered.

Still, it was jarring for them to slip into the nightclub and be greeted with the blurred figures of patrons dancing against the neon lights. The sounds of Dell’s music was deep and vibrated through their bones. It wasn’t easy to fight through the crowd, but eventually Emilia found a suitable place to lean against a wall and wait for the kid to finish his shift. 

When the music ended and the show came to its typically grandiose end Emilia was quick to find their way to Dell’s little room away from the chaos. It was standard to knock, maybe more a formality now. “Hey, you really nailed that beat. I got you some chicken fingers, you done for the night?”

[smiledarn-blog]

arthur had a rather turbulent childhood . being raised by an overbearing , controlling mother and a rarely present father , emotional issues were bound to follow suit . never being allowed to make his own decisions or do anything at all that he pleases , a resentment for himself began to develop . he hated himself for not being able to stand up to his mother . he hated himself for not being able to stand up to anyone .  for the majority of his childhood , he kept his negative emotions sealed away inside . this lead to an issue with anger in the future . arthur always tried to keep his cool , before joker he would have never dreamed of hurting anyone . even when he got angry . despite this , his anger was explosive . sudden and unpredictable . but he often substituted yelling for violent . any violence that were to happen would be taken out on the objects around him . never a person .

young arthur - joaquin phoenix

as arthur went through school , he realized he had a passion for entertaining people . making people happy . he also developed a need to prove himself . to become something that would be worth his parents pride . but their family was already poor , and when arthur got old enough to be looking for a job , he couldn’t find anywhere , his parents would consider , decent that would hire him . as a result , he went back to what he enjoyed doing . he decided that his own enjoyment was worth more than anything that would pay well . much to his mother’s disappointment , he became a clown . one available to hire . but as he would soon learn , it was difficult to get bookings and this caused much friction within the clown community in gotham . even arthur himself had had his fair share of fight’s with other clowns because of one had gotten a booking and another hadn’t .

arthur’s mother - frances conroy

because she lived in poverty her whole life , arthur’s mother had grown delusional as a way to cope with the fact that her son was now living the same way . she had forced herself to believe he was well - off . to believe arthur had a job that brought in good pay . to believe her son was no longer living in poverty . but in reality , he was a clown who struggled to find work as well as a place to stay . with a majority of his night’s being spent sleeping in the subway station . either on trains or benches . he lived each day as it came , and soon he grew a friendship with those he met along the way . as well as a genuine sense of caring for them . he wanted to do right by them . he wanted to do right by his mother . but the condition he was living in was only worsening the state of his mental health .

arthur sleeping on a subway train

arthur wanted to do something good . he wanted to help the people around him , the people like him . the people who were suffering just because money was an issue for them . this was why he became joker . he organized riots to stand up against the rich . to make a change . to make a difference . joker was a symbol for good in the beginning . but that rapidly changed as his following grew larger and larger . as people began to recognize him in his every day attire , not as joker . the attention got to his head . the gap between arthur and joker grew larger and more distant . he began to lose himself . he began to change . he became more joker than arthur .

joker protests and riots poster

[warpilct-blog]

          “   no----- that’s definitely not what i said.  or,  what  i meant for that matter. is it  so  hard to believe  that  i’m  actually doin’  this ‘cause i care ?  ”

                                                              *  /  @stellarstephi + starter call !

[lysglorie-blog]

            (    ♡  @pistolslang      )         

She's often set aside methodical and clinical thought for him. How they occupy every crevice, every vein and every breathless murmur to leave full lips. Seraphic cadence is stilled, melody paused for the revelation that is earthen anchor. His devotion and candor a distraction from the grind of every day medicine. from the science, and dictation she kept herself buried beneath. Digits work with pen to inscribe the last of thought, gaze raising as familiar scent wafts heightened senses. Angela can already tell he's had a longer day then usual, his limbs heavy and exhausted from the days toll. Something they've all paid many times over, routine and repetition an affliction of good soldiers dedicated to ending a war.  '  Jesse..  '  Name spoken as an affectionate gesture, letting man choose to lessen the distance between them rather then rising and intruding upon his being.  Lingering thought addled mind ; check his vitals, check body for signs of injury, do blood work. Ask him if he had been injured while out on the field / beckon further details about mission. All of these things she know she wouldn’t vocalize, not yet. Not when his tongue stilled with exhaustion,  not when he needed PEACE most.

[sawdrenched]

spoiled rotten - cj & emilia

@cjcandy

        Maybe they had fallen into the wrong line of work. It was the most reoccurring thought they had, often the last they would have as sleep wrenched them from the waking world. It was one that persisted even two years into gang work. Maybe it was the paycheck, maybe they really did enjoy it. They idly bit down on the lollipop they fed through the mouth of their mask, the crunch echoing in their ears. It was loud enough to drown out the meeting, to eclipse Reagan’s rough voice at least.  

In this spark of moment they could pretend to be alone.

Their tablet was set askew to them, forcefully shoved from the path of Dell’s shoes the moment they hit the table. They had already haphazardly scrawled the image of a puppy barking up at a pink haired figure, with several footnotes denoting; ‘Olive’s big day out’ or ‘you fucked up big time bordeaux the deadline is in a week’. Hell, they couldn’t even catch the eye of their men who had faithfully followed them to the meeting (the entirety of their crew being their publishing company, which was some commitment to be sure).

Maybe that was how Emilia’s eyes landed on the new face at the table; Cavity. Or at least that’s what they assumed she called herself. They took pause when the meeting came to an abrupt halt- oh, break time. Okay, cool. Time to guzzle down a sugary drink and draw something. But first!

With a deft, gloved hand Emilia withdrew a chocolate bar from their pocket, aimed and scooted it at the blonde woman, trying to be precise enough not to send it flying over the edge. It did reach its target; but instead bounced right into her unsuspecting face. That was about right.