#normal abt this

[gender-luster]

when the last days of lex luthor also ended up being the last days of superman because these self-sacrificial fools actually couldn't exist without each other

[stillalivedcingscience]

Still listening to this flayed!Henry Creel playlist all the time sigh

[strangetorpedos]

oh my god. looking @ the playlist dropout made for valentine’s day and. crustaceans & crushes is on it

[the-mighty-crabjoys]

just found out one of my fave fic authors is actually my mutual i had. no fucking clue. whhat the hell ohmy gof hey. hey what’s up

[were-coyote]

actually that bts pic just made me realize how close amelia's hair is to Violet's..... it's definitely like the same texture just kinda cut and styled a bit different. holy fuck

[deputystakes-a2]

@deputyfangs said, but, you know, at any point, when you were looking at that gun thug, did you see your daddy’s face?   /   not said as an insult, said moreso out of concern

this messiah needs watching. ashley’s entire career in the united states slayer corps had been built upon this—a sheer hatred. a wrath which he had inherited from jeremiah, the man whose sins he was forced to pay for.  ( he often paid in blood. that was jeremiah’s religion. that was his worship. fists which beat him battered blue. )  of course he saw jeremiah’s face on the faceless targets at the range. of course he saw his father’s face on the gun thug, on every target he was cleared to take down. of course, of course, of course.

christian looks at him with a certain kind of sorrow.  ( if christian were a man of faith, he might pray for him. god knows who else would. )  he looks at ashley with something deeper than pity, deeper than concern. ashley wants him to look away. he hasn’t said he could look.  ( ashley’s youth had been shattered into a thousand jagged pieces by jeremiah’s fist and boot. irreparable damage had been done. but when the light caught the glass just right, it looked less like a massacre; more like something you could find your religion in. the angels had a thousand terrible eyes. divine beauty tended to err on the terrible side. )  christian looks at him, and suddenly, his empty apartment feels too cramped. his words aren’t malicious in their intent, but he goddamn wishes they were. malice, he could work with. malice, he knew. but ashley didn’t know what to do when he wasn’t aching. he didn’t know what to do when he wasn’t being struck. a dog of war backed into the corner. a dog of war who’s been kicked too many times. you take away his will, his wrath, and you’re left with a pathetic desperation for violence.

christian knows better than to come any closer.

            “i did.”  he tips back the rest of the bourbon in his glass, creekwater eyes wincing.  “i did—i always fucking do.”

this messiah needs watching. this messiah is about to break. this messiah has made a slaughterhouse out of a bone-white afternoon.  “i can’t help it, he just—”  they both know who he’s talking about. when he looks into the mirror, he sees not himself, but the lamb his father slaughtered. jeremiah haunts him. jeremiah is the poltergeist tearing his childhood home apart.  “i wanted to kill him, when i got out.”

in the corps, he thought it through a million times. in the corps, he thought about using a knife. he thought about the scar, the stitches, the blood. solitary tear dares to streak down his cheek. it catches the light. it catches his scar. “but someone fuckin’ beat me to it.”