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chilled-ice-cubes · 1 year

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“2003 roy is a horrible person” yea that’s why i love him

#go war criminal go #anya.txt #fma 2003

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smokestarrules · 8 months

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gotta say I am a huge sucker for how Adventure Time will sometimes just cut to Princess Bubblegum doing something extremely morally dubious like cutting off a tiny person’s limbs with scissors and then sticking those arms and legs onto another tiny person’s limb stumps but then she'll turn around and go like "Good morning, Finn! Are you ready for a sploinking day?" and whatever atrocities she had just been committing will Never be brought up again.

#whenever I watched parts of this show when I was younger marceline was my fav character but now that im actually going through the whole #thing for the first time it is So easily bubblegum #she is a war criminal she is a lesbian she is Never Going to Die #WHAT a character #the fucken worst. everyone hates her at some point in time and its deserved. she has no idea what good and bad are and I Love her #adventure time #princess bubblegum #bonnibel bubblegum #smokey speaks #500 #1k #10k #20k

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iaure · 11 months

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𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3: 𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4: 𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 CW: self-awareness, stalking, obsession, delusion, ptsd, mention of a brother's death, thoughts of kidnapping. Written in the third person. Use of Y/N. Spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spiderverse.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ heaven have mercy on my simple soul. we might have another dearest series on our hands, but for miguel. god. jesus. i made this in one (1) day. it's two am.

wc: 1.7k

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻❜𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗱𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀.

Miguel knew that feeling all too well. Gabriella faded away in his arms, a flash of technicolour and geometric shapes. An entire world, falling away and escaping from him, like grains of glass as fine as sand but still so colourful. That's what kept him moving. He never wanted someone to make the same mistake. But he was only a man. he couldn't be alone in the isolation of his own making forever. He built up those walls, praying he'd have the sense to never knock them down. But brick by brick, other people did. First was Jess. She was his friend, his sister in arms. Then Peter, then a thousand other faces and names and hearts and morals and everything that made Spider-Man, Spider-Man. They each took a brick, as though it was nothing. It was just by pure chance that she was the one to take that last brick. She was a new addition. Friendly, witty, quick on her feet. Just like everyone else. Another Spider in another place and another time. Another in a million, another clone, another warm body as fodder. But when Jess brought her to him, Miguel knew; she was one in a trillion.

She had stood next to Jess, firm, with a thousand yard stare like she'd been digging around Miguel's soul and yanking out her favourite bruises. Harrowing was a good word for it. Her estranged brother, a captain in the police, had died. She looked like she'd seen Hell. Fresh bruises, scarring, her suit torn in some places...and she stood tall.

"Spider-Woman, from Earth 7290. Also known as Y/N."

Jess spoke softly, a hand on Y/N's shoulder. Her breathing was steady but her eyes had glazed over, completely tapped out to the situation. Miguel felt his heart tug. He knew what it was like. Everyone did. Most Spiders were sad, upset, but she simply seemed...angry. Furious, even. Like if Miguel made a move towards her, she'd chew him up and spit him out. He'd seen people try to tame horses before, ones that would buck and kick and neigh until someone's leg was broken. It was like Jess was doing that. The one hand on Y/N's shoulder, keeping her in place.

"Miguel?" Jess spoke up, and he came out of his haze. "Are you listening?" "Yeah." He nodded, quietly clearing his throat. "Sure. Get her a watch." Jess shared a look with Y/N, one that he couldn't quite tell the reasoning behind, but the glance of her eyes was enough.

Spider-Woman of Earth 7290 took the last brick.

He'd see Y/N around, walking around the Spider Society and speaking with other Spiders. She seemed to hold that anger close to her heart, despite the other Spiders telling her that it'd get better over time. They'd healed, or got over it, or pushed it out of their mind. But not Y/N. She stayed mad. She stayed angry. Miguel understood that more than most. Mourning took time. So many had gotten over it after years. It wasn't fair to expect Y/N get it over it so fast. He didn't think so, anyway. After all, it was an anomaly that took her brother's life. A mistake. It had fallen off the proverbial map, but according to Jess, Y/N had 'handled it her own way'. Whatever that meant. Miguel didn't really care. All he worried about was her. Rather than just taking the brick off his walls, she smashed it in with a hammer and ran it over with a bulldozer. She had a wrecking ball to smash a single blue and red brick. And he hated it. Because what about Gabriella? What about his wife? Did their deaths mean nothing now? And how was this healthy? Granted, Miguel wasn't a healthy person. Not like that. But the sudden way his mind dedicated himself to her was absurd. Did it have to do with his DNA? With the spider mutation? Rapture? Mating season? There had to be an explanation. A cure.

But there was none.

Now, Miguel's mind was rotting away. He wished he could pry it open and take to it with tweezers, to prod out the parts that he hated. But his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, and he knew he didn't stand much of a chance anymore. It was all Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Even just the faint, passing scent of her was enough to drive him up a wall that very much shouldn't exist. Passing word of her wellbeing made him tune into conversations he was never part of. He began to develop a seventh sense: touch, hearing. sight, smell, taste, spidersense, and Y/Nsense.-the uncanny ability to know when she needed help. Trademarked, owned by Miguel O'Hara exclusively. Peter once teased him about how Miguel would suddenly jump up and scoot over to the cameras, checking in on Spider-Woman 7290.

The teasing didn't last long when given way to the severity of the situation.

Gradually, Miguel leaned into it. If he couldn't fight it, then join it. Revel in it. Let his eyes linger on her frame. Let his waking hours resort to thinking of her. Let him suffer. He deserved it. He began to follow Y/N around. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And sometimes, Miguel would see enemies-a Vulture here, a Doc Ock there-and he'd help when she wasn't looking. Little favours here and there began cropping up. Getting her groceries. Taking care of her cat. Fiddling with the gas for the car of the one creep that kept following her around that was so sure she was Spider-Woman. Granted, the creep was right. But he didn't know that.

(He did. Love comes in many shapes and forms.)

Y/N never seemed to notice. She was off, battling her own demons and fighting the good fight in her own world. She was good and kind and still angry but she used that anger so well, and Miguel loved her for it. She burned with the anger of a thousand dying stars. She was everything. When Y/N would stop by the Spider Society, Miguel made sure to look good. Brush his hair, brush his fangs, make sure his eye bags weren't too obvious, or if they were, then they looked good. He was trying to get her to like him, after all. Check to make sure his suit didn't have any tears or holes. Because Y/N was gorgeous. She could drag herself in with her guts spilling out like roadkill and he'd still think she's the most beautiful thing to grace the multiverse.

The beauty of delusion, he supposed.

He was aware how delusional this was. He knew how absurd it was that he saw her and fell immediately. Was this what happened in fairy tales? Is this what Prince Charming felt when he saw Cinderella? The world completely spinning the moment there's even a hint of her? The complete dedication of his heart to this woman that barely acknowledged him...someone who would only glance his way if it was a requirement. Y/N was cordial to him, but little more. And it made his heart ache. She spoke to Jess more than she spoke to him. It felt wrong. It felt cruel, like a tease, trailing up and down his spine but never providing relief. One word to him was ten to Jess.

Miguel refuses to admit it, to accept that he was willing to stoop so low. But there was a brief moment where he thought about hurting Jess. Or getting her on some mission that would take forever. Breaking her bracelet when she least expected it so Y/N would have to come to him.

He'd never act on it. He was sure of that.

If there was one thing Miguel was proud of for himself, it was his restraint. He had the unparalleled ability to simply...hold off. Another day, he'd tell himself. Next time, he'd self-assure. Then another next time. Then another. Until heaven knows how many next times it's been, and he's aching for her to even look at him, but why won't she glance his way? Why was she so cold? He's done everything he could. Just look at him! For god's sake, just fucking look at him! That's all he wanted! Five minutes with your eyes on him, your undivided attention.

But no. Another day, he said. Next time.

But maybe he could simply...take Y/N away. Her world was inconsequential. It'd be easy to take care of any villains. He'd do it for her, single-handedly. She were everything. He could just keep her there, in his office, never allowed to leave. He could come back after a long mission to her loving arms, her warm embrace, flush to flush to flush to flush. He'd do unspeakable things just for her to trace the vague outline of his body with her eyes. If Y/N told him to kill, he'd do so without question anymore. Miguel barely had any control over himself.

The next time he saw her, it was while dealing with Miles. It was so much, all at once and never at all and undying and swarming his senses. It was so much that he didn't realise how much she'd been smiling at the two teenagers, how sweet her gaze got, the gentle touches and warm laughter and how Gwen and Miles looked up to her.

He didn't know Y/N had a soft spot for kids. And he found out most vividly when she was the first one to help Miles escape, blocking off what must've felt like half of the Spider Society with the same undying rage, now spent on protecting her new friend, the child she called such sweet things. That she saw as her own.

Miguel felt his heart shatter when he had to take her down. The way she fell into the floor, limp and dangling like she was nothing more than occupied space. His heart was wounded, wailing like a dying dog. She picked the newcomer, the anomaly, over him. Him, her one true love. Did it matter that she'd known it yet? No. It only mattered that she helped Miles escape.

Lord, he thought. I worry that love is violence.

#divagaciones (per)#yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #i am a girlboss i am a war criminal i am a lunatic and i am clinically insane and the next virgin mary and i am never going to die

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odinsblog · 5 months

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Moscow security forces carried out raids on gay nightclubs, bars and saunas in the city center on Friday night, according to media reports, a day after Russia’s Supreme Court effectively banned the international LGBTQ+ movement in Russia, labeling it an “extremist” organization.

Police searched venues across the Russian capital, including a nightclub, a male sauna, and a bar that hosted LGBTQ+ parties, under the pretext of a drug raid, local media reported. Eyewitnesses said clubgoers’ documents were checked and photographed by the security services.

Ostorozhno Novosti Telegram news channel reported that, on the pretext of searching for drugs, police raided a club on Malaya Yakimanka where a party for the LGBT community was taking place.

(continue reading)

#politics #russia #vladimir putin #homophobia #lgbt #transphobia #lgbtq #religious reich #vladimir putin go fuck yourself #vladimir putin is a war criminal #russia is a terrorist state

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ludaroace · 3 months

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thinking about the way ramon said “fit and pac you should know” instead of anything else and i’m probably thinking way too hard into it but

either cucurucho knows or doesn’t know and either way ramon “wins” the conversation . some of the other eggs might have been outwardly hostile to cucurucho, but ramon is the only one who did not actually answer a single question with anything substantial except for when he said “you should know”, which could be seen as a very subtle challenge to the federation especially combined with what else he said

if cucurucho knows, this is nothing other than ramon being snarky . if cucurucho doesn’t know he can’t just say that, because isn’t the fed supposed to know everything about the islanders ? which honestly, i think that’s what ramon was going for, because he’s a smart boy and knows that according to the federation, his only parent is fit . maybe spreen if they’re being technical .

ramon doesn’t lose anything by including pac if cucurucho doesn’t know because everyone else does and honestly it’s a matter of time for pac signing the adoption papers . he’s not divulging anything that’s not common knowledge

and it’s not like cucurucho could tell ramon that pac wasn’t one of his parents because that’s not true . ask anyone on the island and they would all agree that he is . hell, i think there’s a good chance ramon has called pac pai more than he’s called fit dad . cucurucho really should know, shouldn’t he ?

#qsmp #qsmp ramon #qsmp ramón #child too smart for his own good with a vendetta for the federation vs a bear go #the fed really got unlucky that ramon was raised by an anarchist war criminal who absolutely taught him to not talk to the police #and that the same child’s other dad is a genius escaped convict #if anyone knows how to deal with an interrogation it’s ramon #ramon tag

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clefairytea · 11 months

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Seivarden Vendaai really gives Harry Du Bois a run for his money in the pathetic meow meow race. You meet her lying face down, naked, high and half dead in the snow. As soon as she sobers up she starts crying. The family car hates her. She sobs that she wants to die and the person who saved her life goes “then why don’t you, pussy”. She still finds time amid this to be indignant about being asked to do minor chores. Babygirl.

#clefairy squeaks #Truly the saddest most pathetic war criminal going #imperial radch #cw suicide mention

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brainrotdotorg · 4 months

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how many tasteless sacrilegious dolores dei-themed stripteases and burlesque shows do you think have been performed in elysium. blonde wigs and all white dresses and golden wreathes and all that. no bra obviously. spotlight shining right on the titties to mimic a lung glow effect. dolores dei drag queen performances lipsyncing to vesper-messinian chants

#dont ask me where this thought came from.#at least one pole dancer had a very short-lived war criminal theme going on for a little bit.#she was described the be supernaturally beautiful and all that after all #thinking about what the real world equivalent of that would be... jesus christ striptease?#i dont know why this. happened #i was listening to felix colgrave's infernum and my mind started to wander in the most fascinating way

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

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Hey hope your doing well! Could I request Price with a really shy civilian reader?

Ohhh so I am going to cheat a little here and actually expand a little small AU I did before for this, I hope you don't mind soulmate AUs! (If you do you shall need to get your butt back into the ole inbox and I shall do something else) <3

You did not want to die. You especially did not want to die because of a bloody maniac seeing fit to blow up the building that you worked in.

You could barely breathe with all the smoke and debris in the air, but at least the floor hadn't collapsed yet. Couldn't be long though, you could hear the building letting out great sighs as if struggling to stay upright. If it came down, you were toast. You took a breath and rubbed a hand to the raised words on your collarbone to steady yourself. Old habit. Your words had been there since you were born, the handwriting so bad that everyone assumed you must have a doctor for a soulmate.

You broken love?

The only saving grace of this was that the office had actually been closed due to the aircon being busted. Of course, you had to have left your bloody laptop charger and had to have chosen to go get it when there was a terrorist attack, of course. Not much for it but to start crawling in what you were sure was the direction of the door to the stairwell.

It was a struggle, you were pretty sure in the initial blast your whole left side had been thoroughly fucked up so you had to pull yourself along on your right side, but you made it to the stairwell.

You took a breather and leaned heavily against the wall, trying to steel yourself for continuing on down the stairs. Wait, there were people coming up the way. That was very much the wrong way to be going.

One of them bit out a curse and leaned over you. All you could think about in your state was how kind his eyes looked.

"Wasn't told there was anyone else left in the building Captain" one of the men said to the one leaning over you.

"You broken love?"

Oh. Oh.

"I'd probably be ok calling you Captain in bed."

The other men were howling with laughter, but you were mostly out of it now with pain and the rush of endorphins that came from those words on your collarbone finally settling fully into your skin.

"We can discuss that later sweetheart, let's get you out of here."

God you were a pretty thing weren't you? Had passed out the moment he had lifted you in his arms, like you had known that moment you were safe. You'd always be safe with him, after all he had fought his way to become a Captain to find you, the words wrapped around his left forearm always pushing him forward.

His boys were happy for him he knew, Ghost already taking over the rest of the op to allow him to be here for you when you woke up. They had already killed or captured most of the terrorist ring, the building sweep was just clean up.

The paramedics said you weren't in any immediate danger, pretty bashed up though. Suspected break on your left arm, suspected fracture on the leg, some light burning on your face and neck. Price went with you in the ambulance to the hospital, holding your hand as you dipped in and out of consciousness and babbled away nonsense at him. Even when you had gotten the x-rays you were loopy as hell, the doctors said it was stress, exhaustion and pain, prescribing a heavy dose of painkillers and a good night's sleep.

When you eventually woke up properly, you were warm and cosy in a bed. You felt awful. You looked down to find your arm in a cast and your leg in a splint. You were also... Well, clean. And wearing clothes that were definitely not yours.

"Morning love."

You squeaked and dragged the blankets right up to the bridge of your nose, peeking over to see an incredibly handsome man standing by the door of what was not your bedroom. Wait did you know him? It felt like you did. What on earth had happened?

He laughed and it was the most gorgeous sound you had ever heard which made the tips of your ears burn and your heart race.

"You broken love?"

Wait those were your... only when you shifted to touch your words they were already settled into your skin. He had said them to you before. That's why you knew him. He said them when he had found you in your building, when you thought you had been dying. And you had said...

You would quite have liked for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, but you settled for pulling the blankets all the way over your head and hiding in the hopes he would never look at you again. You could not believe your first words to your soulmate had been about calling him Captain in bed. You were mortified. You would never in a million years have said something like that if you hadn't been delirious from the shock.

You heard his footsteps and the crinkling of his clothes as he crouched next to the bed, the feeling of a warm hand landing on your head over the blanket.

"Don't tell me you're embarassed now love, I've not even told you about what you were saying when I was trying to give you a bath" he laughed.

Jail, jail for this man. You would fix this by simply never emerging from this cocoon again. This was your home now. Even if he was petting at your head and you knew it would feel so much better without the duvet between your hair and his hand. Oh God the thought made you snake your good hand out of the safety of the blankets to snatch a pillow back inside and scream into it.

John Price thought you were adorable. He knew you were shy, you had babbled to him about it last night while he was gently trying to keep your cast out of the water in the bath. It had been you that stripped off and him trying desperately to slow you down, knowing you were off your head on pain meds. But you wanted a bath and he couldn't let you do that on your own in the state you had been in.

You'd told him all about yourself in broken jumbles of words. Your name (he had immediately tested in on his tongue and found it fit there), your favourite colour (he'd paint the walls on Monday), how it was so nice to be able to talk to him because usually you would be way too shy and he was so handsome and kissable (he was more than willing to prove you absolutely correct about him being kissable when you were sober minded).

You hadn't been kidding about being shy. He liked that more than he thought he would, that his soulmate was this sweet, soft thing who was so flustered over so small a flirtation. Oh he couldn't wait to see all the ways he could made colour deepen your skin, find all the words that would have you squeaking and trying to hide away.

"Sorry for teasing, couldn't help myself. Will you come out please? Let me see that pretty soulmate of mine?" he said with the gentle affection of a man finally content in life.

He coaxed you out like one might do a nervous kitten, no sudden movements, light sounds of encouragement. And when you finally looked at him your hand moved to your collarbone out of habit to trace your words, although you winced in pain when you bumped the cast.

"Try not to move it too much love, we can do some exercises to keep your mobility up after breakfast."

You nodded, still looking up at him with those big nervous eyes. He smiled at you and pushed up his sleeve, laying his forearm on the bed and letting you see the words there.

"They're yours, you know. I'm yours" he said, like the concept came as easy to him as breathing.

And as you gingerly reached out with your good hand to trace the words, you couldn't help but whisper the word mine before taking his hand and pressing it to your collarbone.

"Yours."

#mhairianswers #mhairiwrites #price x reader #john price x reader #soulmate au #Price is going to torment his love so much #Always flirting outrageously just because he likes how you have to scream into your hands about it #what a cutie of a war criminal

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darklight-owl · 2 months

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Me, looking through youtube to find background noise to draw: oh sweet. A tier list of the bad endings of Mystic Messenger, a game I've never played and know nothing about. Sure, this should work.

Me 50 minutes later: What the fuck happens in Mystic Messenger.

#can someone explain????#like huh????#a bomb????#a cult?????#i thought this was a dating sim where the gimmick was that it took place in real time?????#why are these anime boys war criminals??????????#hello?????????? Is anyone there?????????#mystic messenger #<-shit's going in the main tags I hope I brighten some mm fan's day with this #owl's posts

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