everyone in the LU fandom right now

…

Additionally,

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Inspired by this post

My pookie is no more an 8 🙏🙏🙏

cobb vanth in bacta tank after his encounter with cad bane

He lived bitch. But not for long. Historians are not sure if it was Sypha or Alucard who ended him after he posed on his own grave.

it was probably sypha....

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JOSEPH LIVED LETS GO (I knew already but still) YEEE

Wow first Mone, now Shun... Sendai kids woke up today and said we're gonna show them some real quality skating

My players assured me they enjoyed the challenge in the Extraction sitrep I ran today, but also I did cringe heavily at dealing 18 damage to one of my players in a single attack.

René, my pc from Day's End, a zomboid rp server.

Upping the delulu to convince myself my blorbo survived a supposed death so I can keep my happy selfship happy.

Windblade and Starscream are being gross and affectionate in the windscream fic and its delightful 

fred weasley having wife named katy and children name ursula and catherine and sending special christmas photo with their sweaters which are with the first letters of names to molly is canon (even if he is dead, always in our hearts, fred)

If I out Twilight in the space it makes a space cowboy ?

babes they let a bitch out of the hospital !!!!!

hhhhhhhhhh Mach content

TW for mentions of blood, self-harm, death, and murder

Mach took a deep, shaky breath, clasping his shaking hands together. He couldn't stop shaking. Why couldn't he stop shaking?

He knew why. He knew exactly why. But he couldn't tell anyone. He had already told Peter, and he had felt like ripping his core out of his chest when he did. He had forgiven him, for some insane reason, though. But nobody else would. He couldn't even forgive himself.

The memories weren't always there- sometimes, the only reminder of what he had done would be a small seed of guilt hanging in his chest. But now the memories were back, full force. They were uprooting the wiring running through his body, manifesting in full-body tremors that just wouldn't go away. And the undeniable urge to bash himself against the wall until he shut down.

NO! He drew his hands close to his chest, sucking in a harsh breath in a futile attempt to clear his thoughts. It didn't work. He could see - he could feel the blood dripping down his hands, running through cracks in his plating and seeping into his wrist joints. The blood of however many soldiers who had just been fighting because they were ordered to. However many men who had been waiting for rescue, only to be met by a mechanical weapon of death. However many innocents who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

His fingers dug into his wrist joint, breaking through the metal. He dug his fingers deeper, ignoring the pain ricocheting up his arm. His emergency systems booted up shortly after and cut the power to his hands, making them go limp. Some small amount of oil leaked from the opening, flowing like warm syrup and staining his sleeve black-ish gold.

Such a small amount of pain for so many horrors... it wasn't enough. He had rotted, sitting alone and isolated for a century. That had been exactly what he deserved and right now, it was what he wanted. He couldn't, though. Not anymore. The others depended on him, just as he depended on them. His initial disappearance had almost broken a few of them; he didn't want to know what would happen if he disappeared again.

And so he lived, despite all the atrocities he had committed. He lived, pretending that he wasn't weighed down with guilt every day. He lived.