#ground and think again

[loveridden1999]

people who still hate Joe Alwyn need to get a life asap

[zorangezest]

2/3

they're fighting! someone come break them up!!

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[starry-bi-sky]

on a completely separate note; shizun luo binghe with a disciple shen yuan who fell into the abyss??? *thinks about LBH canonically stealing SQQ's corpse for 5 years* he'd hallucinate i think. like, like visual and audial hallucinations.

Keeps thinking he's seeing SQQ in the corner of his eyes, or wandering between the trees, amongst a group of disciples. Thinks he hears him calling for him, but its just the wind or another disciple.

Gets Xiu Ya reforged but patently fucking refuses to make a sword mound. Because his disciple Is Not Dead :))) There was No Body. He's Not Dead. And If You keep Insisting That He Is, He's Gonna Skewer You :). He's holding onto Xiu Ya so he can return his most favored disciple's sword when he returns. It's on his hip right next to Zheng Yang where it's supposed to be.

Also this motherfucker?? does not sleep btw. He has the image of SQQ, wide eyed and hysterical and standing at the mouth of the abyss burned into his fucking eyelids. Can't use the dreamscape to escape it either because he keeps trying to save him and either he does and it's an incredibly cruel trick to wake up to, or he doesn't and he gets his heart broken in several different pieces again.

There is no convincing this man that Shen Qingqiu is dead. Absolutely nothing at all. He is buried so deep in denial that moles would be jealous of how deep he is. He keeps making tea for two in the bamboo house only to remember that it's just him. SQQ's fans are hiding everywhere, little reminders of his presence. He goes to wake up SQQ on the mornings he sleeps in-- only to find the room empty.

[crunchchute]

III

[a-compass-without-a-needle]

This is what happened after 3.1 isn't it?

[lilybug-02]

Dewi wouldn’t hurt a fly…usually.

Bug Fact: The African Cicada is the loudest bug in the world reaching up to 107 decibels (about the same as a car horn).

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Masterpost

[vaguely-concerned]

sometimes I think of all the on-the-surface warm, well-meaning but deeply ineffectual advice and attention john gives harrow through harrow the ninth (make some soup and get some sleep! get a hobby! don't be so hard on yourself! self care harrow! as long as I need take no actual responsibility in this relationship whatsoever I would have loved to be your dad!) set up against the stark truth that with his other hand he has been staging her attempted horrific murder again and again and again like a living nightmare on the logic that it will 'put her down or fix her'. and then I find that I wish there is a hell. a special hell where twitch streamers turned necromantic death emperors go

[accirax]

(Whit did, in fact, gaf, but he wasn't about to let anyone know that.)

[spoopdeedoop]

random ass hc that benji gets super emotional over cute animal facts

[dykealloy]

such a small detail but I cannot stop thinking about law leaving kikoku by luffy's bedside when he went out to talk with hancock and ivankov. idk it stirs up a lot of questions. like does law do this often? does law, like zoro, talk to his well-behaved cursed sword like "kikoku, sit. watch." before he leaves to go have lunch or a well deserved twenty minute post-surgery nap. is this the protective equivalent to leaving a baseball bat by the bedside? doctor's bedside manner emotional support blade? but then I also can't help but notice that it's unsheathed. which... actually, who is that sword protecting really, just sitting there? did luffy wake up more than once in the cradle of that submarine while his body was still recovering? (drugged up to the gills, entirely noncoherent, unable to be reasoned with, going in and out of consciousness, the only thought running through his mind being "ace"). probably would've been a nightmare for the heart crew

[monstera-modd]

Through new skin and connections #6 DPxDC

When Danny Said He Wanted a Break, This Is Not What He Meant! Also apparently now he has a… boyfriend?

24 Hours Earlier…

It all started when his parents surprised him and Jazz, with an unexpected trip to Gotham, New Jersey—for a ghost expo.

So, they packed up, and for the last thirteen hours, they had been crammed together in the GAV. Fortunately, all of his parents’ ghost-hunting gadgets had been stuffed into the trunk, leaving him with only one thing to worry about: the gun his dad kept fiddling with in the front seat. Thankfully, it hadn’t exploded or shot him. Yet.

Finally, they pulled into the Orchard Hotel. Old Gotham, his mom had said—for the charm. Whatever that meant.

All Danny saw was fog. Or smog. Either way, it didn’t matter—he wouldn’t be able to see the stars at all. Stupid city.

Once they had everything set up in their room, his parents announced they were heading to the expo, telling him and Jazz to enjoy themselves. Jazz, for her part, declared she was staying in for some peace, quiet, and no ghostly business.

"No, you don’t count, Danny."

Which left him alone.

Well, he was in Gotham—might as well take some pictures of gargoyles or something for Sam.

For the next two hours, he explored, checking out things he could show Sam and Tucker when he got back—the ancient Egypt exhibit, Ivy’s gardens, etc. Things were going well.

Then, between one breath and the next, his ghost sense went off.

A wisp of blue mist curled from his lips.

He managed to track the ghost into Gotham’s sewer system, twisting and turning through the tunnels as he chased it down. Finally, he got close enough to yank out the thermos and seal the ghost inside.

"Man, can’t I just get ONE day off!"

His voice echoed down the tunnels.

Then, silence.

Too silent.

A low, hissing growl reverberated around him.

Slow. Measured.

Like something huge was waiting in the dark. Sizing him up.

Danny stiffened, fingers hovering over the thermos’ lid, ready to open it again in case his capture had company.

Then he saw them—two yellow, slitted eyes gleaming from the shadows of a side tunnel.

Unblinking. Watching.

His stomach dropped.

Not a ghost. Run. Run. RUN.

The water rippled.

Danny barely had time to shift before something massive lunged from the depths.

Killer Croc.

He bolted. But he didn’t see the teeth until it was too late.

Fangs clamped down on his shoulder.

Pain exploded through him.

His vision blurred as Croc’s jagged teeth pierced flesh and ectoplasm alike, locking onto him like a vice. But it wasn’t just pain—something wrong crawled through his veins, spreading outward in a sickening wave.

Danny screamed.

Instincts misfired as his ghost form glitched between tangible and intangible. His breath came in ragged gasps, hands shaking as the burning spread.

With a strangled cry, he lashed out—a ghostly wail ripping from his throat.

The sonic blast slammed into Croc, sending him staggering backward with a snarl. He wiped his mouth, flicking away a droplet of glowing green blood.

Danny staggered, clutching his shoulder. His legs felt… weak. Heavy.

Something was wrong.

He needed to leave. Now.

Croc lunged again.

Danny shot up through the ceiling, flying fast.

He only stopped when he crashed into a dumpster.

________

Tim was not pouting.

And he was totally at the manor right now—not walking around downtown Bowery tracking a case. Pshh, you’re crazy.

…Okay, maybe he was kind of tracking a case. But none of this was his fault.

He had almost gotten caught while out, and now he’d lost the person he was tracking. And to make things worse, he couldn’t use his phone or call Oracle because that would ping his location here—which, again, was not the manor.

This was all Steph’s fault.

Like, yeah, okay, maybe he did eat Alfred’s last cookie. Big deal. That didn’t mean she had to be a total bitch and tell everyone he hadn’t slept in over three days. And then get him benched over it.

Now, with no lead to follow and no real excuse to keep going, he was stuck wandering aimlessly, trying to pretend he wasn’t sulking. He could just head back, but that meant admitting defeat. And if he was going to be benched anyway, he might as well make the most of it.

He was just passing one of the city’s many dark alleyways when—

BANG!

The noise was loud, echoing off the brick walls.

Under normal circumstances, his instincts would’ve kicked in immediately. Investigate, assess, act. It was part of being Red Robin.

But he wasn’t Red Robin right now.

He was Tim Drake-Wayne.

And Tim Drake didn’t fight crime.

…But he was nosy.

Slowing to a stop, he backtracked to the alley entrance. At first, he didn’t see anyone—just the usual grimy brick walls and trash littering the pavement. But then, his gaze landed on a dumpster shoved hard against the wall, a massive dent caving in the metal.

His brow furrowed. Hesitantly, he called out.

“Uh… hello?”

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then—A low, barely-there hiss echoed from the shadows.

Tim froze, his vision slowly adjusting to the darkness. Now, he could just barely make out a long, dark… tail?

Now he was just confused. Should he call this in?

With that thought, he reached down to pull out his communicator while simultaneously keeping an eye on the animal - thing - under the dumpster. However, before he could press the button, he spotted a pale gray hand peeking out. And wasn’t that concerning? Because now, this might not be an animal at all, but a person . A meta ? Maybe something like Croc?

That theory was confirmed when the pale hand turned into an arm, then a torso -thankfully attached to a head ( don’t ask )- and… yeah, it was a snake person.

A snake person who, as of yet, hadn’t noticed Tim as they slowly regained their bearings and looked around.

Then Tim kicked a tin can.

Alarmingly familiar glowing green eyes snapped up to meet his.

Is this one of those pit monsters Damian is always going on about? Tim wondered as the creature let out a loud hiss, baring very long, very sharp fangs– fangs he would very much prefer to stay on the other side of.

“Umm… are you okay?”

Okay, maybe talking to the possibly hostile snake creature wasn’t the best idea, but honestly? He was at a loss for what else to do.

“I won’t hurt you… if… if that’s what you’re thinking,” he added, shifting nervously under their unwavering stare. The way they were looking at him sent unpleasant memories clawing their way to the surface– not something he needed right now.

Then, without warning, they hissed again -eyes darting in every direction- before lunging straight at him.

Moving on instinct, Tim rolled out of the way. When he stood back up, ready for a fight against what he now definitely thought was a snake person—probably a venomous one—he realized... there was nothing there.

Nobody but him stood on the empty street. No sounds of movement, no creature slithering through the trash. Just… nothing.

_______________

this is part 1! i was too excited to add more and love the suspense!🫶🏼😆💚

Edit: why does this look smaller on my phone than on my computer 🫠 I thought I wrote more! Also added a bit more to this chapter!

Now up on my AO3!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64163269

[fyllophobia]

260225

[eyeballsoup7310]

I think it’s a very interesting glance into Cesare as a person that he was killed for being ‘bad’ at art and then, a thousand years later, he saw a chance to enter another creative space and based his whole brand on never making anything good

[stefisdoingthings]

horror or love; which will last?

[borgialucrezia]

"It’s just his entire family, whether they know it or not, has been ganging up on him from the very beginning of the first season. What’s the problem with him? I think he’s lovely. I think he’s really kind and compassionate and cuddly." — DAVID OAKES

[yourmoodboards-areonfiirree]

XI, The Rebel 𖤐

𖤐The Black Tarot𖤐