#he’s probably fine at acting

[absolutequeertrash]

just saw the deepfake witcher scenes with liam hemsworth and i hate it so much

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

a couple scribbles i cleaned up. also i think i like drawing him in varying states of distress

[mintjeru]

rough day?

open for better quality | no reposts

[racke7]

De-aged and injured Danny

Danny is found out by his parents. They don't take it well.

Clockwork is very upset about this, because he'd gambled on almost-certain odds of them being chill about it. So now he has to run damage-control before this very unlikely time-line goes even further off the deep end.

Unfortunately, Danny needs to be in the living world, not the Infinite Realms. Which means that Clockwork needs to put Danny somewhere safe. Somewhere where nobody will find him.

And double-unfortunately, the only place that remotely fits this bill is to contact Lady Gotham.

City-spirits aren't... super-reliable. They're Neverborns who very very rarely consider "humanoid shapes" worth figuring out. So they just kind of... exist. An ectoplasmic presence that's undeniable, but also extremely difficult to have a conversation with.

Thankfully, Lady Gotham is (for all of her... quirks) generally very hero-aligned. Which is why she's the best one to ask for sanctuary for Danny.

Danny who Clockwork de-aged as a way to "limit his injuries" of being vivisected.

Lady Gotham agrees, but she only has one "safe place" to put him. And her Knight is a little bit too paranoid for her to just dump an injured child in his lair, without causing more trouble than it's worth.

But it's hardly a difficult thing, to arrange a few things, and place Danny in a spot where his injuries will cause her Knight to hurry to his aid.

Such as... in a room filled with medical equipment, right next door to where Joker has just lost a fight with Batman.

Things escalate somewhat when Batman finds him and makes some assumptions about what Joker has been up to. Tempers run a bit high, someone loses a few extra teeth, someone else has to physically drag Bruce off Joker's body before he beats him to death, and the Joker considers the whole thing a grand old laugh (he has no idea what's going on, but it sure pissed off Batty, and that's always a treat).

Of course, the Batfam has to actually investigate the scene, evacuate Danny, give Danny medical aid, and then also ask Danny about what happened.

Danny wakes up and is very confused about a lot of things.

He's no longer being vivisected. Great. Love that part.

He's somewhere he doesn't recognize (the Batcave). Could be good, could be bad. At least the bed is pretty nice?

He's very small. This feels like a personal attack. He might not have gotten a good growth-spurt yet, but taking away what he had is cruel and unusual.

And there's a weirdo in an... armored bat-costume? Who isn't setting off his ghost-sense? What the hell kind of "normal" person wears something like that?

Still, Danny does answer the questions that Batman asks him, because... well, there's a green post-it-note in his pocket that says he shouldn't lie.

So Danny tells Batman about his parents cutting him up "for science". And Batman hears that the Joker somehow managed to hire two mad scientists who (upon the tiniest bit of suggestion from the Joker, who'd definitely seen the similarities between Danny and Jason and thought it would be a "funny prank") had leapt at the opportunity to vivisect their own son.

This is definitely worrying, because from the phrasing, they'd been "wanting to do it for a long time". And considering Danny's slow heartbeat and low body-temperature? They'd been wanting to do it because he was a meta.

So, somewhere out there (the Bats had found no trace of the two) were two deranged lunatics who wanted to cut open metas to "see how they worked".

Batman does the very reasonable thing and actually contacts the rest of the Justice League with their descriptions, just in case they'd managed to leave Gotham before the Bats had tracked them down.

[kacievvbbbb]

While I do so love the image of Mihawk as a blushing virgin bride bashful about all things sex and PDA. I cannot lie to myself.

This is a man that takes off his shirt to put on his jacket before heading outside. He has never known shame a day in his life.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i think fandom spaces would become much more enjoyable across the board if people stopped flipping their pancakes over other fans enjoying characters that they don't like. or, god forbid, like them but in 'the wrong way.'

[theology101]

I honestly can’t WAIT for Maxson’s Brotherhood to interact with the remnants of the NCR.

“Like the Brotherhood - they were really good allies against the enclave, but fundamentally they’re just a little inbred cult. No outsiders, no new technology, but damn good with their power armor. Then they went crazy and we had to take Helios. Now they’re just hold up in their bunkers”

And then Maxson just… isnt that.

A massive cult of personality (the kind that the NCR used to mock about Roger Maxson) able to inspire, uplift and enlist THOUSANDS. A faction not only with the capability and technology to have power armor and vertibirds, but the capacity to Mass Produce them too.

A combination of Western Zealotry, Lyon’s Reforms, and a healthy amount of overwhelming firepower

Arthur is a unifying symbol that can take the isolated and sometimes contradicting Brotherhood Chapters and forge them into a Nation. He has two successful campaigns under his belt and two Fusion Reactor.

He has Liberty Prime.

I’m FASCINATED by what he’ll do. Will he reject Elijah and the War and give them an olive branch in their time of need? Will Arthur double down and seek revenge, using this opportunity to finish off the weakened NCR? Or maybe he just… ignores them?

His primary goal is, now that the Brotherhood has 2 cold fusion reactors, is going to be rebuild Lost Hills and then take Vegas, Helios One and the Hoover Dam. That was the original mission of Elijah’s chapter, after all and three incredible storehouses of pre-war tech. But I could honestly see him doubling down and trying to turn LA into a Fortress for the Brotherhood.

I honestly dont know - according to his stated goals, he has no reason to intervene against the NCR when peace is entirely likely. But he’s a Monarch fundamentally, and Monarchs dont like threats to their power.

Good news is he probably wipes out the Legion or whatever’s left of it!

[casualavocados]

Why not consider he might be waiting for you?

Winny Thanawin as Q and Satang Kittiphop as TOEY WE ARE, ep7

[normal-thoughts-official]

listen. yes it's pretty frustrating but i think it's so funny how they had aerin be an official LI, made his route fuck so hard even previous haters wanted to fuck him, and then had him dip in the same chapter that he had sex with MC for the first time. and then he's just been gone like it never happened for 9 chapters and counting. like i know ill get death threats for this but i genuinely think this was one of choices' funniest moves. what was going through their minds. 10/10 no notes

[romance-rambles]

modern alkaid | 319 roses and a date

Alkaid gets asked on a date by the girl he desperately wanted to ask out, at least before he found out who the flowers were for. You'd like to maintain that nothing you said was a lie.

2.8k, post-alkaid's florist ending [everything else happens the same way, except alkaid's first meeting with mc happens after godheim], misunderstandings + some angst, mc is reader, series: none

ALKAID STARES DOWN BLANKLY AT the bouquet of white roses in his hands. At some point during his stunned silence, he had unwittingly taken them off yours, just as you had hoped for.

All 319 of them, to be precise—which is a number that, put in a different context, can also refer to 3/19, the day of his birth. Even with the limited capacity he has at the moment to sort out the events that led up to this moment, he can't help the way his heart flutters at the knowledge that you remembered, even though so much time has passed.

"Alkaid?" A gentle tap against his shoulder robs the flowers of their spotlight. "Do you...not like the flowers?"

He looks up and sees you, still here—still dressed so beautifully he's once more in danger of succumbing to asphyxiation, with a fretful expression that makes him wonder if he's already there. When he does not respond, you close the remaining distance between them, obscuring all else from his vision.

It is a problem only because he has nowhere left to run.

"No," he croaks out finally, leaning back over the counter to accommodate you.

Obliviously, you move closer, leaving him with no choice but to avert his gaze once more. Alkaid can only hope you aren't offended—that you don't think he finds you unattractive, with how often he does so. It's only that your beaming smile reminds him of what it feels like to stare down the sun.

"They're lovely."

Satisfied with his answer, you pull back. Your hands are clasped behind your back, and your ponytail sways slightly, once more retreating behind your shoulder. There's an adorable star-shaped pin fastened onto the strap of your cross-body bag.

He sighs discretely, relieved, and pulls the bouquet up to his face as casually as he can. The petals, he hopes, will be enough to cover up the deep scarlet staining his cheeks.

"I'm glad!" You clap your hands together. "I was worried they wouldn't be to your liking. Maybe I should've asked you what your favorite flower was before I tried asking you out."

A self-deprecating laugh slips out as you scratch your cheek. An intricate design spans the length of your nail now—shades of red and green shaped into what he can clearly recognize as halves of a rose hugging the edges—against a black background.

Alkaid bites his lip, converting the interrupted gasp into a quiet exhale.

"You guessed right. I like white roses," he says, hoping desperately that his words are nothing less than reassuring. "Though they share that spot with lilies as well."

"Lilies," you repeat, a determined gleam in your lovely eyes. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

He bites his lip harder.

THE MORNING HE'S DUE TO hand off your flowers, Alkaid finds himself contemplating the benefits of coffee behind the register.

Though his favorite concealer and his usual color corrector have done much to brighten up his undereyes, they can do little for the grogginess that comes with staying awake the whole night (Why such a specific number? Who are they for? Do you remember him at all?). And, by the time the clock strikes nine, he's already downed three cups of strongly-brewed tea.

What pushes him to finally break away from his usual preferences is a simple headache.

The store is empty, and there remains more than half an hour before you're set to arrive. A sharp twinge of pain in the side of his head as he stands up to check on your flowers draws out a careful hiss. Alkaid, with some amount of lingering hesitance, flips the sign on his door to closed, with a note explaining the rough length of absence. Then he walks out the door, his destination the artsy cafe across the street—the one that makes him think of you whenever he walks in.

Allen, the normally deadpan barista on duty, seems to shut down when Alkaid corrects him on his order. Soon, the news spreads to the rest of the employees, who take turns staring at him as he leaves with a warm thermos of coffee in his hands.

But, in the end, it proves to be an unnecessary trip.

You're already in front of his flower shop when he returns, half-crouched and studying the sign the way someone might study a work of abstract art. Today, too, you have a large, dark blue backpack slung over both your shoulders, its surface decorated with various pins and stickers—mostly of a cat, your cat, but also of a popular manga that you seem to like.

In Passing, that is.

It's about a love triangle featuring a tyrant emperor and a well-liked leader of the rebellion. Even without the reviews praising it for subverting expectations, Alkaid would've picked it up anyway.

He's on the third volume right now, and—

Hmm? His eyebrows furrow. Where did I leave it? In my bag?

All of a sudden, the sleep that had been so insistent on dragging his eyelids down vanishes. Alkaid wracks his brain desperately for the answers, stomach churning at the thought of you finding out about his latest reading material.

Unfortunately, you choose that moment to turn around.

"Oh, Alkaid!"

Your confused expression soon melts away, leaving behind only a cheerful smile. Tightening his grip on his thermos, he exhales silently, before flashing you a gentle smile.

"You're here." Time stops as you begin to approach him, your keychains singing a short jingle to accompany you. Your expression softens, as does your voice. "You didn't forget about me, right?"

Alkaid can only sputter out a half-coherent apology.

The words get drowned out by the insistent, purposeful beating of his heart. It's as if it wants to claw itself out of his chest and entrust itself to your hands, as it is, with shattered bones sticking out of it.

You laugh prettily, as always. "It's okay. I'm just joking."

Then, like a moth to a flame, his gaze falls upon your lips. A soft red, with a glossy sheen, one that matches the color of your skirt. On a plain canvas, it's all the more striking. It leaves him wondering about things he, currently a stranger, shouldn't be fretting over.

He's not sure how long he stares for, with slightly parted lips and a series of half-realized thoughts chiding at him to stop—only that it's not long enough for you to grow uncomfortable.

Alkaid clears his throat, holding up his thermos (I should've bought her something too, he thinks) as an explanation. "I apologize for the wait. I went over to the cafe across the street."

"Coffee lover?" you guess, making room for him to open the door.

"I'm usually more of a tea person." As he slips inside the store, he can't help but chuckle self-consciously, remembering all the different ways he imagined this scene playing out. Naturally, his next words are nothing more than the most blatant lie he's ever told. "I thought I'd try something else for a change."

"Is it a nice place?" Upon seeing the puzzled look he sends over his shoulder, you clarify, "The cafe. I've seen the reviews, but I think only experience can beat the testimony of someone you know."

He considers your question for a moment. "The staff is very friendly. I often stop by during lunch for their sandwiches."

"I see..." you murmur.

"I think you'd like it," Alkaid blurts out as he slips in behind the register, happy to note that his copy of Volume 3 is, in fact, in his bag. "The owner enjoys collecting art—there's a lot of different paintings all over the cafe. Um, since you're an art major."

"Well, now I have to try it out." You don't seem particularly startled that he knows about your major; instead, you take to drawing patterns across the wooden countertop. He thinks he sees the familiar curve of an A. "The cookies you recommended last time were really great too."

When he keeps his silence, the complete opposite of what the state of his mind currently is (she remembers?), you look up.

"Hmm?" You tilt your head, confusion clouding your once smiling expression. "Do I have the wrong person? You're Alkaid, right? From that time in the snow mountains?"

He forces himself to nod, but that too is enough.

A shy smile blossoms on your lips, paired with both a brief flash of relief flitting through your gaze and the slight, almost imperceptible widening of your eyes. Placing your hands above your heart, you sigh exaggeratedly.

"You had me worried for a moment," you say. Your eyelashes cast a dark shadow on your undereyes. "I thought we'd never meet again."

For a moment, he wonders if there's more to your sorrow than you let on. Does it have anything to do with the way you disappeared? Somewhere so far away that no one could reach you at all?

Alkaid shakes off his thoughts.

"But we did," he responds carefully. I never thought we'd meet again either, he does not say instead. "Whether it was destiny, whether it was just a coincidence, we did. All we can do is make the most of it."

A tinge of sadness mars your lovely smile. "I think that sounds lovely."

SOON AFTER THEIR REUNION, DONE properly this time, down to exchanging numbers, Alkaid excuses himself to go fetch your flowers. When he returns, lovesick heart brimming with curiosity over the recipient's identity once more, he finds you've returned to doodling on the counter.

"Here they are, 319 white roses," he announces.

There's a blank expression on your face when you look up. Slowly, as recognition dawns upon you, it melts away to something bitter and rough. Its jagged edges dig into his his heart, leaving a paralyzing mix of sadness and longing to wash over him.

And then—

"Thank you," you say, and take the flowers off his hand.

His hand twitches, yearning for the camera he still keeps in his backpack, for the days where he feels like memorializing something instead. Lovely is the only word he has to describe you as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears and pull the bouquet close with a faint smile.

Then, you close your eyes, and you inhale deeply. Once more, you are somewhere else—somewhere far, somewhere he can't reach.

"Ah, sorry." You crack one eye open. Now, the bouquet is clutched against your chest, but your sadness remains. "I guess I'm a bit nervous. I don't know if he'll like the flowers."

He? From some far corner of his mind, he recalls the image of your guardian. A tall man, with long silver hair and a pleasant, but guarded expression. Cael, he thinks is the name.

"For your guardian?" Alkaid inquires.

Your smile drops entirely at the mention of your guardian. A complicated series of emotions flash in your gaze, soon averted to one of the potted plants at the display. Scratching your cheek, you offer him a polite laugh.

Today, only some of your nails are a plain black. The rest remain bare.

"No, it's not for Cael." You answer carefully. "Actually—"

Looking down at the flowers, you take a deep breath. When next you speak, your voice has reclaimed the softness it'd shown him earlier—your searching gaze as well. You leave him with the truth, imparting it onto him like a mischievous secret.

"There's someone I'd like to ask out."

His stomach drops, and you leave him with the memory of lovelorn smile, forever imprinted behind his eyelids.

"I hope he says yes."

[3:00 PM] you: Alkaid, do you have any plans tonight?

[3:17 PM] alkaid: No, I'm free

[3:21 PM] alkaid: Did something happen?

[3:22 PM] you:

[3:22 PM] you: I haven't asked him out yet. Gonna do it soon

[3:23 PM] you: All of my other friends are busy rn.

[3:24 PM] you: Is it okay if I stop by after you close up shop?

[3:24 PM] you: I'd want to talk to someone about it

[4:31 PM] alkaid: Of course

SOMEHOW, ALKAID MANAGES TO GET through the rest of the day.

His heart is held together haphazardly with duct tape and carefully-placed staples, though their efforts are thwarted constantly by a popular refrain (You hardly know him. Of course there's someone else.), and he's one stubbed toe away from being reduced to tears, but he manages. Somehow.

He swallows down his what-ifs and maybes and waits, watching the hands on his wristwatch inch ever closer to six in the evening. And eventually, the vaguely promised time arrives.

As he's stepping out from behind the register, a familiar chime echoes cuts through the silence. Alkaid looks up and sees you, dressed still in red and black, your turtleneck and skirt swapped out for a knee-length dress.

"Hi."

The bouquet of white roses—held in both hands, a stark contrast to the black leather jacket you're wearing—covers up its neckline. You smile sheepishly at him, pulling at the mesh of your bright red skirt to mimic a curtsy.

You're beautiful. Even the flowers surrounding them pale in comparison. Even the aurora they'd seen together pales in comparison. You rob him of his breath and leave gasping for a reprieve, but so long as he keeps his memory in even the smallest capacity, that's simply impossible.

The familiar knife called jealousy stabs into his heart, leaving him keenly aware of his longing. He averts his gaze, but the damage has already been done. You are beautiful, and he has waited years to see you.

"Hi." Alkaid swallows uncomfortably, as the sound of your footsteps draws closer. In a panic, his hands brace themselves against the edge of the counter. "Was something wrong with the flowers? I thought—"

A mysterious expression sits upon your features when you pull his gaze onto you, seemingly oblivious to your magnetic power.

With a deep breath, you thrust the flowers at him, knuckles brushing against his chest. You pull back for a moment, taking your flowers with you, and the soft coral of your blush makes it difficult to discern whether you find yourself a victim the of same scarlet blooming across his cheeks.

"That's—" You cough politely. There's a heart-shaped pendant dangling from your golden necklace. The dress is either strapless or your jacket has covered up the straps. "—what I'm here to find out."

Alkaid tilts his head. His confused gaze darts across his surroundings and stops at the glass window of the store's display, thinking perhaps that your mystery boy might be outside. But while the streets are not barren, there is no one outside his store.

You say his name in the same way you told him your secret. Like it's something precious. Like it's something you love. And the truth begins to settle into his bones with a finality that deafens the half-coherent puzzle pieces he's been trying to fit together—he is the only one you could possibly ask out in this empty store.

He has no choice but to look back. At you, and the bouquet you're offering him.

"Would you like to go to the movies with me?"

AND THAT IS HOW HE finds himself with the beginnings of a bruise forming on his lip. He doesn't mind, not when the sting he feels as he wets his lip reminds him that this is not, in fact, a dream (It feels like it though, he thinks), nor a fantasy.

"You...you don't have a girlfriend, do you? It's been a while since then..."

You rub your arm lightly, muttering about something he can't understand, and what else is Alkaid meant to do but take your hand? He squeezes it gently, tickled to find that he can return the favor for all the times you've stolen his breath away.

Your lips part slightly, but whatever you hoped to say does not leave the confines of your mysterious mind. Instead, you draw some of your hair from both sides over your flushed cheeks.

"Nothing like that," he reassures, smiling gently at you. "I'm just surprised. I didn't realize you were talking about me."

"That's a reli—what." In a single moment, your voice goes from girlishly breathless to an irritated flat. Releasing your hair, you blink uncomprehendingly at him. "How?"

Watching you descend into another muttered ramble, Alkaid shrugs. "If you'd still like that date..."

You whip your head in his direction. "Then it's a date!"

The first time he met you, it was when you had fished out of the snow and offered him a warm drink to fight off the cold. They had talked about miscellaneous things, from your half-hearted desire to request a camera for your birthday to who could make the better model between them both.

And back then, he had thought to himself that there was no sound more beautiful than your laugh.

Almost four years after the fact, as he watches you giggle, Alkaid can confidently say his past self had the right idea. Such a specific title leaves him with room to declare your follow-up smile to be just as breathtaking.

[andoutofharm]

every time i see northerners act like queer people dont exist in red states/in the south i have to log off for a while lest i become a terrible creature

[epickiya722]

I think about how some folks pointed out Kenjaku's stitches look healed as Kaori compared to Geto and then it hit me.

Kenjaku had to pose as Kaori for at least a year given most of that time... they were pregnant. Kenjaku had to stay in that body for a long time because life was being carried in that body.

It gets creepier, like levels of "should have been some horror movie" when realizing not only Kenjaku paraded as someone who Jin believed to be his wife, but paraded around in a dead body. And for nine months or more, Yuji was being carried around in that dead body.

[fecto-forgo]

ive been thinking about the KSA cult quite a bit lately and yk, while maybe this isnt how youre intended to interpret things, i find seeing the situation was hyness could have chosen between just dropping the "awaken the dark lord" plan because the heart was slowly corrupting him into insanity, and just continue living with the girls he raised, or go through with it even if it means losing himself and risking their safety, and he ultimately prioritized his own goals of revenge above his daughters is very fascinating, specially considering star allies themes of friendship and bonds, its already there with his present mistreatment of them in comparison to kirbys neverending love for his friends, but giving him far more responsibility in what he did because he always chose his own goals before the girls.oh man do i love narrative contrasts.

[cupiidzbow]

also this was sooo fuckin funny he was getting his shit rocked by a 5 foot guy in a cat suit

[aroaceleovaldez]

writing PJO chars' adhd/autistic/dyslexic/etc traits is extremely fun for me, especially exploring the different ways those traits might manifest for each of them and how they react to those traits in themselves based on their individual personalities and I need to do more of it.

anyways Nico autism hc that I've been meaning to write for ages but haven't gotten a good excuse to yet - if he gets stressed out enough Nico will very rarely have speech loss for up to a couple of days at a time. It TOTALLY freaks him out the first time or two that it happens because Using Your Voice is such a big thing for him. something something that quote from BoO about being halfway to Asphodel already. And he struggles a lot with general cues already so he puts even more weight on being able to communicate very directly and efficiently, and being physically unable to communicate verbally is like his worst nightmare. Plus he's already stressed and probably shutting down whenever it happens so it's just Extra Bad and it takes a bit of his friends helping calm him down and find other ways for him to communicate that works for him for him to start feeling better and shifting his perspectives a bit about what that whole "using your voice" manta means to him (mostly just. a little less literal). also he totally learns sign language in probably at least one or two varieties cause he cannot stop picking up languages.

[ask-quinn-connors]

The Realization

[Based on this post]

[Seriously... how did he not figure this out sooner???]

[Also don't mind that I didn't line or color it… I’m not used to making comics (and I’m also just tired from school and shit :P) so I go burnt out FAST]