#not sure if this is late but yeet

[rinzay]

Happy halloween yall!!!

[wildlyironicbee]

🙃

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Sometimes I feel very sad that I didn’t just focus on one creative skill. I look at my art some days and go I wish I’d spent all my time making only that, because that way it would look better and I’d do more and it wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t write very well because my art would be amazing and I’d be able to make the stuff I really want to and maybe even get a job related to it and I wouldn’t feel like so much time was wasted. And often times it really does feel like you’re wasting time and everything is telling you to just pick something to focus on so it can mean something and you can never seem to pick one of anything.

And then other days I feel like an absolute GOD. Anyone else able to write your own fic and then draw art for it just because you can? Can you make an edit/amv after writing a silly little analysis post on the show/character that is so perfectly on beat and fits the lyrics and with transitions so slapping you get chills while watching? Can you write a short silly ditty on the guitar about how you’re feeling using the eight chords know and belt it out only a little bit off key then do a choppy little animation of your sona singing it?

I may not be the most skilled at all of the above, and it can be a little lonely to be a one man band who doesn’t play half as well as a lot of people out there, but when your power goes out or your wifi dies or you have a day off, everyone else is busy and you’re alone...

you play the best gosh dang music in existence

[all-the-fish]

Oh, you know, just the usual internet browsing experience in the year of 2024

Some links and explanations since I figured it might be useful to some people, and writing down stuff is nice.

First of all, get Firefox. Yes, it has apps for Android/iOS too. It allows more extensions and customization (except the iOS version), it tracks less, the company has a less shitty attitude about things. Currently all the other alternatives are variations of Chromium, which means no matter how degoogled they supposedly are, Google has almost a monopoly on web browsing and that's not great. Basically they can introduce extremely user unfriendly updates and there's nothing forcing them to not do it, and nowhere for people to escape to. Current examples of their suggested updates are disabling/severly limiting adblocks in June 2024, and this great suggestion to force sites to verify "web environment integrity" ("oh you don't run a version of chromium we approve, such as the one that runs working adblocks? no web for you.").

uBlockOrigin - barely needs any explanation but yes, it works. You can whitelist whatever you want to support through displaying ads. You can also easily "adblock" site elements that annoy you. "Please log in" notice that won't go away? Important news tm sidebar that gives you sensory overload? Bye.

Dark Reader - a site you use has no dark mode? Now it has. Fairly customizable, also has some basic options for visually impaired people.

SponsorBlock for YouTube - highlights/skips (you choose) sponsored bits in the videos based on user submissions, and a few other things people often skip ("pls like and subscribe!"). A bit more controversial than normal adblock since the creators get some decent money from this, but also a lot of the big sponsors are kinda scummy and offer inferior product for superior price (or try to sell you a star jpg land ownership in Scotland to become a lord), so hearing an ad for that for the 20th time is kinda annoying. But also some creators make their sponsored segments hilarious.

Privacy Badger (and Ghostery I suppose) - I'm not actually sure how needed these are with uBlock and Firefox set to block any tracking it can, but that's basically what it does. Find someone more educated on this topic than me for more info.

Https Everywhere - I... can't actually find the extension anymore, also Firefox has this as an option in its settings now, so this is probably obsolete, whoops.

Facebook Container - also comes with Firefox by default I think. Keeps FB from snooping around outside of FB. It does that a lot, even if you don't have an account.

WebP / Avif image converter - have you ever saved an image and then discovered you can't view it, because it's WebP/Avif? You can now save it as a jpg.

YouTube Search Fixer - have you noticed that youtube search has been even worse than usual lately, with inserting all those unrelated videos into your search results? This fixes that. Also has an option to force shorts to play in the normal video window.

Consent-O-Matic - automatically rejects cookies/gdpr consent forms. While automated, you might still get a second or two of flashing popups being yeeted.

XKit Rewritten - current most up to date "variation "fork" of XKit I think? Has settings in extension settings instead of an extra tumblr button. As long as you get over the new dash layout current tumblr is kinda fine tbh, so this isn't as important as in the past, but still nice. I mostly use it to hide some visual bloat and mark posts on the dash I've already seen.

YouTube NonStop - do you want to punch youtube every time it pauses a video to check if you're still there? This saves your fists.

uBlacklist - blacklists sites from your search results. Obviously has a lot of different uses, but I use it to hide ai generated stuff from image search results. Here's a site list for that.

Redirect AMP to HTML - redirects links from their amp version to the normal version. Amp link is a version of a site made faster and more accessible for phones by Bing/Google. Good in theory, but lets search engines prefer some pages to others (that don't have an amp version), and afaik takes traffic from the original page too. Here's some more reading about why it's an issue, I don't think I can make a good tl;dr on this.

Also since I used this in the tags, here's some reading about enshittification and why the current mainstream internet/services kinda suck.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

Nico’s hands still on the stubborn pillowcase. “To…my cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Um.” He resumes, sliding slowly away from Will’s wide round eyes, stuffing the puffy square of feathers into its fabric prison. The ghost of geese past are not happy with him. He is their prince. They will submit. “Yeah? You could all those other times, too.”

“Yeah, but I want to come over.”

“Yes,” Nico agrees, wondering if this is perhaps one of those moments Kayla warned him about. Has it reached day five of Will not sleeping? He doesn’t think so. He was napping when Nico came into the infirmary this morning to help with the tidying he promised to do. At least he was drooling enough that Nico hopes he was sleeping. “You mentioned.”

“So I can?”

“Yes, Will.”

Maybe it’s just an American thing. Nico has been noticing some Moments lately. He’s not sure if all teenagers have unanimously decided on some code they’d like to speak in during the few months he was busy defeating his great grandmother, or if maybe he’s finally stuck around long enough to notice, but nobody says what they mean, nowadays.

(He has gathered, thus far, that ‘on fleek’ is a synonym for ‘aflame’, although ‘yeet’ continues to evade him. Perhaps because Cecil and Lou appear to have indulged in the sick delight of replacing their every word with the term with the sole purpose to Confuse. Or perhaps, as Will has so indicated, they have each endured one concussion to many and are beyond any hope.)

“Sick!” That one Nico knows, at least. “I’ll come by after my morning shift? Connor got cursed by the Hypnos, Hecate, and Aphrodite cabins this morning so I have to do brain surgery before he forgets how to feel genuine human connection again, but I’ll be done by noon. Probably. I mean, Connor has a thick skull, genuinely I mean, which is why his lobotomy has been delayed so many times, but so long as I —”

It has been under Nico’s notice lately that Will eyes, genuinely, sparkle. He has read the cliche time and time again and rolled his eyes almost every time: diamonds sparkle. Water sparkles. Snow sparkles. Eyes reflect, and sometimes glow with reflection. They do not sparkle. To claim a set of eyes are sparkling is to profess to the world and all capable of registering your words that you are a brainless idiot who cannot dredge up from the depths of your mind, the most barren and bereft back corners, a single unique or clever comparison; a minutely original way to describe excitement or animation.

And yet.

Will is indeed very animated, and very excited about very many things, and it shows on his face; in the wideness of his grins, the springing mass of his curls, the stilted and flailing gilt of his languid limbs. It also shows, perhaps most obviously, in his genuinely magnificent eyes — Nico has seen the Logan Sapphire. He has touched the precious thing with reverent hands, stared in awe as it thrust out the light shine upon it like the golden ichor of Ouranous swirling with the sweet saltwater to birth Love Incarnate. He knows glittering, he knows gleaming, shimmering and shining and twinkling.

Will’s eyes sparkle, like the very tip of a mountaintop, like the crackling ends of a flame, like dewdrops on spider silk. It is transfixing. It is alluring.

“—ico. Nico! Hello-o?”

It is also a trap.

“Sounds great,” Nico says loudly, voice like cold soda over vanilla ice cream. He clears his throat, twice, to no avail. His vision begins to blur as the heat pouring off of his face warps the air. “Um. See you then?”

Will nods, or at least Nico hopes he does. His curls bounce, anyway. They are hard to miss. They remind Nico tangentially of how laughter sounds, unimpeded by shame; how the shimmering satin of a ribbon would curl and bend under the smooth slide of the scissor’s blade.

(His father’s circuit of jesters often included poets playwrights. They also doubled as Nico’s babysitters. Surely no lasting consequences, that.)

“Yes!” He flashes a smile, then, and it becomes imperative to note that his eyes squint at the force of it, and his slightly-too-big teeth brush his bottom lip, and he has, in fact, on each cheek, a dimple.

Now, Will is often and even frequently called Apollo Junior by just about every living soul in camp, up to and including Immortal Camp Director And Horse, Chiron; and uproariously once even Mr D, God of Wine. Allegedly, as taunted by Kayla, even by Will’s own mother. The golden hair and unfortunate habit of winking and legs for days do most definitely create an image.

Nico, however, contrarian he be, must deny: he has seen Apollo. Apollo is beautiful and golden and charming, but Will is not quite his spitting image. Will, more aptly, is the son of the Sun. He glows; the glare of his smile leaves impressions behind in the cells one’s eyes, the glide of his limbs is almost dragging, languid. To look at him is to commit yourself to blinding. To seek so desperately the solace of the light as to ignore the unsettling sting of the burn.

“I can’t wait!”

As a blissful cloud moving in front of the solar system’s brightest star saves your eyes the eternal fate of darkness, Will’s duty so saves Nico from an eternity of shadow. He returns, humming softly and horribly, to his work, sifting through folders and updating patient files, and Nico exhales the breath setting foundations in his lungs, slumping forward in fervent relief. A melancholic reprieve from the summer rays, if only for a moment.

He waves goodbye, or at least he hopes that he does, rushing out the infirmary doors and tripping down the rickety porch steps.

“Hurrying somewhere, Nicholas Claus?” drawls Mr. D, throwing darts a perilously balanced apple atop the horns of a satyr bleating in morse code.

“That was not even an attempt,” responds Nico, and hurries away before he can be dolphinized. Dolphinified? Made into a bottle-nosed beast. (Why bottle? Of all comparisons to make, who decided bottles were the utmost separate object to which the snout of the slippery beasts should be named? Oh, wait, drunk people. Bottles. Okay. Mystery solved.)

He manages, in his heroic retreat across the common, not to destroy entire swathes of grass and plants, a feat for which the Muses could perhaps write epics about. Truly he is capable of the utmost restraint and self-control. He does raise several full sized wolf skeletons, but they seem primarily preoccupied with hunting down the the Stolls, so a win-win as far as Nico is concerned. Probably not for Connor, who is apparently cursed or concussed, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he has managed thus far with his startling amount of daily braincell loss so by statistic and happenstance he is bound to survive another incident.

“There has to be away to shut myself off,” Nico says, out loud to himself, proceeding the slam of his cabin door and the heavy breathing upon it. He turns to his altar. “You mentioned an off button, Father. I don’t suppose it has been successfully implemented.”

No answer comes forth. He indulges in a brief moment of self pity, wherein the Nico who lives in his brain clears his throat, digs around the messy confines of his mind to find an imaginary black hoodie, slips it on, digs around again for a dagger, and stabs himself, choking and twitching pitifully. Real Nico then walks with great purpose to the exact geological centre of the stone cabin.

“Okay,” he says again. He nods, once, narrowing his eyes in determination. The Nico in his brain opens one curious eyelid. (Does Will do psychiatric assessments?) “Okay, this is. Hm.”

It is not the first time they have been alone together, after all.

In the weeks following Gaea’s defeat and Will Solace’s nonstop, irritating persistence, Nico has been thrust in his proximity an incredible number of times. From his three day stay, during which he was simply so unconscious for so long his father was concerned enough to manifest onto the mortal plane and poke at his soul until he responded, to his unofficial indoctrination (ha) as a nurse, to camp clean-up efforts, to cabin renovation, to general life — they have become friends. Coworkers, at least. Together they make the camp a little more bearable for everyone in it, including Nico. It is rewarding work. It is illuminating work; Will is a good teacher, and he is funny, and he is good company (and he happens to have very long legs that he does not bother to cover up very often and Nico has eyes that do what they please). They have been in Nico’s cabin together several times over the last few weeks.

Never before has Will come over without some kind of stated purpose.

At least, not and absence he has made so obvious. True, the renovations took longer than expected, and the paint on the east wall is smudged from where Nico shoved Will, shrieking, off the stepstool, and they have perhaps, on occasion, used Nico’s illegal Wii when they were meant to be helping Annabeth make plans for Capture the Flag, but —

But.

Intent.

Is important.

It has been made abundantly clear to Nico over the summer that he has friends upon which he can rely. Reyna has made a point to Iris Message him at whatever Roman tryhard time she believes he should be awake, prompting an attempted murderous shadow travel that left him unconcious in Missouri and at the unfortunate end of many people’s shouting. And Will’s friends, who can perhaps at this point be called his friends also, have created a game entitled “How Many Grapes Can We Flick At Nico During Lunch Before He Goes Ballistic And Sends Us To Purgatory For A Little While” (four), which they are inclined and inspired to play every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Piper enjoys dragging him around to do Things. Jason is just around constantly. (Does he sleep? Nico should check on that properly.)

He had a point, somewhere. He’s sure he did.

It was maybe the impending anxiety attack, helpfully informs Brain Nico.

“Ah,” regular Nico replies, then grapples around for his least favourite pillow, slams it into his face, and screams at the top of his lungs for several minutes.

Brain Nico decides once again that commentary is the way.

I think we are an all powerful demigod of something, he muses. Dirt, maybe? Bad vibes? I can’t quite remember.

“The dead?” inquires regular Nico.

Do you think those years isolated in the Labyrinth perhaps situated us firmly on the shores of mentally unwell? responds he, blissfully unhelpful.

“I think that was Tartarus, actually,” says regular Nico, and promptly banishes his brain self to the deepest recesses of his mind, among memories of the taste of liquid fire and Calculus.

With the remaining, functioning (well.) part of his brain, he places both palms on the cool floor and attempts to focus.

Juicy Fruit It gets right to ya Juicy salt Hmmm Juicy Fruit, The taste the taste that’s —

For the love of all holy things, Nico begs his brain. It doesn’t work, but what ever really goes right in his life, so he pushes past the increasingly louder replays of eighties commercial jingles and maps out the ground below the cabin floor, pushes through the layers of underground.

Ah. Perfect.

He pulls up the very aptly placed skeleton of a cat, letting it scratch and sniff about his cabin before cautiously approaching him.

“You will be sure to tell it to me straight,” Nico says solemnly, holding out his hand. The cat bobs its nasal cavities in and out of Nico’s fingers and, apparently deciding him to be worthy of its attention, rams its skull against his knuckles. Nico snorts, running a fingernail along its cranial sutures and grinning as its purring echoes in his mind. “You seem very wise.”

The cat’s caudal vertebrae rattle in indignation, miffed at the mere idea that it could be anything other than wise. Nico is honestly quite impressed by its ability to glare without actual eyeballs, eyelids, or thought power.

“I am going to name you after my sister and pray that’s not weird,” Nico says. “I mean, I don’t think she would mind. You’re pretty cool, actually, and Hazel’s cool, kind of, so. Win win.”

Hazel the Cat seems unbothered by her christening, curling up in Nico’s lap. He runs his hand from cranial base to coccyx, finger dipping and bumping along the ridges of her spines, and settles against the cool floor, attempting to breathe evenly.

“It’s just.” He swallows. It takes a try or two, to work around the massive stone borrowed in his throat, and Hazel the Cat nips playfully at his fingers until his lungs settle again. “Before we had something to do, you know? We’d be cutting bandages, and he’d be all, hey, did you know bandages are mentioned in one of the first ever medical manuscripts and definitely predate it by many hundreds of years, and I would say I did, actually, I talked to the guy who made that clay tablet, and his eyes would get all wide and he’d be like no way, tell me everything, and then I would just talk forever.” Nico huffs. “We had something to talk about, you understand. Something to do.”

Nico tries to imagine what Hazel his Sister would say. Probably something along the lines of you are an impossible person, which is code for I have about as much luck as you do in this century, pal, the best I’ve got is hope for the best and remember adults no longer smack you for standing wrong. Which. Fair.

Hazel the Cat just purrs in his head again. It’s as encouraging as anything, he supposes.

“Am I supposed to have…conversation starters? He likes twizzlers and intentionally bad poetry. Maybe I could do something with that?”

Hazel the Cat shrugs at him.

“It’s not even — okay, it’s not just that, though. What is — how close is close enough in a casual setting? Or too close? How am I meant to greet him? Am I supposed to offer something? Make something? What do I do if there’s a lull in conversation? Or if it’s all lulls? Oh, gods, how much silence is socially appropriate —”

Hazel the Cat twists in his hold, meeting his eyes as if to say well I don’t think you’ll be struggling with that last one.

“Shush,” he tells her, but his mouth is twitching. “I’m just — I don’t want him to finally realize I’m weird. Or boring, gods. He’s such a hyper person, you know? He never stops. And I am supposed to entertain him! I think!”

This time he can actually hear his sister’s voice, in the back of his mind — you’re such a dummy. Ringed with fondness from the many times she’s said it to him, shoulders nudged carefully together, head knocked gently against his. You are weird and boring. Most people are.

“Ugh,” he sighs, tipping his head back until it rests against the mattress. “Friendship is hard work.”

Hazel the Cat swishes her tail, rattling the discs of bone like a rattlesnake. It’s a surprisingly soothing sound, like rain pinging softly against his window, or the flutter of the poplar trees outside of his father’s palace. Unconsciously he matches his breathing to it, slowing until it’s even, gentle, deep. His eyes, without any direction from his brain, drift until they blanket his hazy eyes, heavy as stone..

“S’not that serious,” he murmurs to himself, soothed under the weight of his feline friend. “S’just Will, I guess.” A beat. He smiles, slightly, a small, curling thing, mimicking the coiled heat in his belly. “It’s just Will.”

———

part two

[gigabyte-flare]

There’s No Escape (Part 1)

Summary: You are going through a rather nasty breakup as you escape your ex-boyfriend’s apartment while he’s away on a top secret government assignment. You move to a completely new state in hopes he won’t find you. You clearly underestimated his determination because he has no intention of letting you go. 

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 1.1k (Next part should be longer! Wanted to get story building stuff out of the way before getting to the good stuff ;) )

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings may be added in the future

A/N: @dollrxst, @hxllfiredoll, @nexyswrites, @ghostkennedy, @lipglossanon and like a bunch of others who’s fics I’ve consumed and have been inspired by, this is all your fault and I’m not even mad about it. Please excuse grammatical errors and such, it’s been a hot second since I’ve written stuff like this. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was now or never.

Leon Scott Kennedy, your soon to be ex-boyfriend, is away on some top secret government assignment and isn’t due back for about three days. You had been seeing each other for about six months and he insisted you move in with him after three months. He seemed wonderful at first, but living with him proved to be way more than you had signed up for.

He was bat shit insane.

You weren’t sure if it was due to unaddressed trauma from his line of work or whatever but his controlling and sick nature was ludicrous to you. He was controlling, manipulative and sick in the head. His idea of fun was holding a knife to your throat while fucking the absolute shit out of you. That was just the tip of the iceberg on the things he forced you to do for his pleasure. 

Anything you absolutely could not live without was getting stuffed into your little Jeep Renegade. If it didn’t fit, it was getting left behind because you had absolutely no intention of coming back. Clothes, toiletries, some of your books, your video game console and games, a couple pillows and some sheets all got stuffed in. When you were confident you had everything essential for your impromptu move, you closed the back hatch on the Renegade and grabbed your purse, phone and car keys from the kitchen counter, making sure to leave the copy of the apartment key you miraculously found behind. You lock the apartment door and shut it. You lean up against it and take a deep breath before you rush back down to your car. You had a long ride ahead of you; Washington D.C. to Boston was about a 9 hour drive.

It was now or never; you weren’t about to squander this opportunity to escape.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was dark by the time you finally arrived in Boston. You navigate the confusing winding streets and find your apartment that you got with your best friend, Becky. You see her come out of the front door as you pull up in your car and park. You see her wave as you step out.

“Hey, you made it! I trust you had a good ride,” she inquires.

“Yeah, long as hell, sorry I’m so late. What time is it?”

“It’s like 9:30, come on in! I ordered pizza for us,” she says, motioning you in. 

You grab your purse, keys, phone and one of the pillows you had stuffed into your car and go inside the apartment. You decide you can unload your stuff in the morning. The kitchen is the first room you end up in and you set your stuff down on the small island before stumbling your tired legs into the living room where the smell of pizza was calling your name. You practically collapse in a reclining chair after grabbing a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table. You let out a loud sigh of relief. You made it. You escaped.

“How are you feeling?” Becky asks before taking a bite out of her slice of pizza.

You finish chewing on yours and swallow hard, “I’ve never been so happy in my life. I’m honestly surprised I’m not dead from some of the bullshit Leon pulled.”

Becky shifts nervously on the couch. She was the only person you confided in about your sick, demented ex-boyfriend. You didn’t even tell your parents, you didn’t want to worry them. 

When you moved in with Leon, he forced you to quit your well paying I.T. job and forbade you from ever leaving the apartment alone. He took your phone away, but you found ways to sneak it back so that you could at least contact Becky. You didn’t want to think about the things he made you do; it was an absolute miracle you weren’t dead or pregnant from the amount of abuse you endured. 

“He hasn’t contacted you yet, has he?” 

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you lean back in the recliner, “nah, he won’t be back from whatever assignment he’s on for another few days, and I blocked his number.”

“Good,” Becky replies with a nod.

“I’m going to hit the sack,” you say suddenly as you get up from the chair and begin to walk back into the kitchen to collect your stuff. 

“No problem, I’ll help you unload your car tomorrow. I was able to get the day off from work.”

“Thanks, Becky.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It’s late in the afternoon when Leon finally gets home from his excursion, his forearms covered in scraps and bruises. He couldn’t wait to see his baby girl, his cock growing hard from the anticipation. 

He fumbled with his keys in the low light until finding the correct one to unlock the front door to the apartment. He unlocks the door and opens it.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Leon calls out.

But there’s no response.

“Sweetie? Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

Leon could feel adrenaline rush through his veins as he starts to frantically search each room for his sweetheart. He became hyper aware of the dead silence of the apartment the further he searched. When he got to the bedroom, he ripped the closet doors open and found most of your clothes were gone. He ran into the bathroom; your toiletries were gone. Almost all your belongings were gone.

“No, no, no, no, nO, NO, NO!”

Where could you have gone? He never in a million dreams imagined you would ever leave him. You belonged to him. You were his everything. Everything he did, he did it for you, he did it to keep you safe from the disgusting world. Pure rage began to flow through him as he stalked back into the kitchen. Unsheathing his knife, he stabbed it into the center of the small dining table before he used both hands to flip it, letting out a primal growl as he did so. 

“That fucking ungrateful bitch!” he growls before walking over to the overturned table to retrieve his knife. 

“I loved you, took care of you, protected you… and this is the thanks I get…”

He pulls out his cellphone, dialing your number and putting the phone to his ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please check the number and try again.”

Taking a deep breath, he then attempts to send a text to the number.

We’re sorry, the number you have entered is not valid.

Breathing heavily, he puts his phone back in his pocket, balling both his fists and closing his cobalt eyes. He stood there for a moment, seething when he suddenly appeared to have a revelation. His eyes snap back open and he digs his phone back out from his pocket and opens an app. A smile slowly overcomes him as stares down at the phone like he was staring down at a long lost lover.

“There you are. Don’t worry baby girl. Daddy’s coming to get you.”

Part 2

[xysidhequeen]

It’s getting late (for me that is) but what about Jason first meeting with the rest of the council (Frostbite, Clockwork, Pandora and etc)?

You mean: Abominable Snowman, Benjamin Button and Mommy-sorry Step On Me? (Jason's crush on Wonder Woman did in fact transfer to Pandora)

Jason generally likes all of the council, and all of the council likes him in turn because he makes Danny happy.

He met Frostbite first. Danny took him to the Far Frozen to get checked out and to be sure the Baby Ghost was healthy and stuff. Jason had been forewarned and honestly, by that point, yetis were just one of those 'yeah that tracks' moments for Jason. Jason asked Frostbite, as a joke, if he could give him a piggyback ride. Frostbite picked him up, plunked him on his shoulder and booked it. 10/10 Jason had the BEST time. Definitely his favorite doctor.

Clockwork he met next, and it basically went:

Clockwork: I see you found your knight young king.

Danny: Yeah, thanks for WARNING ME

Jason: Who the is this fucker?

Danny: imagine a grandpa given unlimited power over time but retaining the 'stay off my lawn' energy but towards the time stream.

Jason: Ah

Clockwork: Wonderful. Off you two go

He then yeeted (yote?) Them through a portal because a member of the Flash Fam had severely fucked the timestream doing speedster shit. Luckily CW had smashed a hat on Jason's head first and he was in human form so the Flash fam member didn't recognize him. They were a bit too occupied with Danny yelling at them for fucking up and ripping them out of the speed force. The Flash fam member bought them lunch. (This was not the first or last time CW sent Danny to deal with the Flashes. They knew of him, and were all more than a little frightened of Danny. They think he's like. A speedforce demon or something. Theyre glad he eats burgers and not their souls) it was fun, even if they were stuck in the 40s for a bit until they cleaned everything up and got the Flash fam member back in the proper timeline. (You can imagine this as any of the Flash fam)

Jason met Pandora when she came to spar with Danny. And he just. Instant puppy crush. He watched this Amazonian woman beat the snot out of Danny and it was the best day of his life. If Fright Knight hadn't already claimed him as a protégé he would've been begging Pandora to train him. She thinks Jason is cute and is always happy to spar with him when she's around.

[radiance1]

Hi. I just had an idea about temporally misplaced Danyal Al Ghul.

Clockwork yoinked him after he was seriously injured and patched him up. Basically saved him. And then yeeted him to the past to be adopted by the Fentons.

So by the time Danny and Damian have a reunion Danny is in his late 20s at most, early 20s at the very least. And he is most definitely a shapeshifting magical eastern dragon with a cult and all that.

I do not make anything having to do with Danny being related to the Al Ghuls.

However

This gives me the foundation to do such a thing.

Alright, so we would need to find a reason why Clockwork would even want to help Danny in any sort of capacity since he wasn't being pushed to kill him because of the observants.

But what if the reason was because he needed someone to beat some sense into (and I am both sorry and not at all sorry for this) his husband turned tyrant turned sleeper soon into the future. Since in a few timelines Danny does beat Pariah Dark he just, decided to push him onto that path.

The perfect opportunity presented itself when Danny was heavily injured in a battle between brothers to decide the true heir, to which both was heavily injured actually, and yoinked him away, patched him up, and left it to the LoA to assume he was just dead after his body disappeared.

So then, following the timeline he foresees where he fought against Pariah, gently and carefully guided him along the timestream (For which to prevent the notice of other Masters of times) to a few years prior and landed him in the care of the Fentons.

Over the years he did gently nudge things here and there to have the Fenton's views on ghosts changing slowly, but surely, as thanks to the boy for unknowingly helping him.

Oh, and avoiding a disastrous future, he guesses.

Everything followed along with his plan, slowly coming to fruition until the boy knocked some sense into his husband, to which made him the new king of the Ghost Zone after the Observants deemed Pariah unfit to rule beyond this point anymore, and as a boon because he was unable to have the Crown and ring in Pariah's possession (given to Clockwork to watch over, so as to not have a repeat of Pariah Dark), he was granted the ability to turn into an eastern dragon at will.

Occasionally he sent the boy back into the past to right some wrongs, avoid disaster, and to occasionally collect the soon-to-be Duke after he found himself in the past. Though he does find himself (and his husband) amused at seeing the boy slowly having a cult built in his name.

Danny's honestly been living the good life, no longer being expected to succeed the League of Assassins and leaving it up to his twin, he was adopted by a new family who, while a bit eccentric was amusing nonetheless, and they did become a true, proper family after his reveal went exceedingly well!

He was 25 now, and decided to take a break from both his kingly duties, and Amity Park, his parents pushed him to take this as a well-deserved vacation and, since Jazz was also in Gotham, he could drop by and say hi to her!

Danny was a bit miffed about leaving the inner-workings of the Ghost Zone to Vlad, more so that it's him than anything. But he did at the very least trust the Duke's skill in making everything go as smoothly as possible and having him consumed in paperwork would stop his brooding over being unable to find that guy, he had a one-nighter with.

(He's honestly surprised anyone would do that, but he guesses people have... interesting tastes. Also, a brooding phoenix, to his displeasure, was far worse than a phoenix trying to woo his mother.)

So he stopped by Gotham, said hi to sister and decided to crash at her place for a while. Wandered around Gotham, seeing the sights, tasting the food, talking to people.

A very good vacation, in his books.

So now what was he supposed to do, when he found his vacation interrupted by what was undoubtedly his twin along with the goddamn Wayne's showing up in his sister's apartment.

They gave him a jumpscare of a lifetime, honestly. But also couldn't they do this somewhere else? Like, a coffee shop, perhaps?

[raz-writes-the-thing]

New Years (Broadchurch One-Shot)

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Neither of you have had a New Years kiss before- it's time that changed.

BROADCHURCH: @clarina04 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @yeethaw13 @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

New Years holidays had never really been your thing, to be completely honest. The booze, the drugs, the partying- and don’t even get you started on how horrible the fireworks were for the environment and the poor animals. 

But this year was different. Sure, yes, you still weren’t a fan of the booze, drugs and fireworks, but this year you had Alec, who had promised to do his best for you. New Years was less a holiday for cops and more like overtime. The amount of stupidity out on the streets and driving around ensured that cops didn’t get to celebrate like everyone else. He’d had to fight for it, but he’d gotten there eventually. 

But Alec had done you a solid this year and applied for the time off. It was your first year as a couple this year, and you were excited to spend it together without his phone going off to call him into the office- which was becoming increasingly common lately with the crimes stacking up in Broadchurch. 

But tonight it was a no phones policy or you’d yeet it out the window into the snow never to be seen again and Alec knew it, too. 

It was a nice evening cuddling in front of the TV and catching up on some of your shows together. You were several episodes behind on Mad Men and were desperate to see how that was going to end this season. 

As it got closer to midnight, though, you found yourself thinking that maybe you would actually like to experience a little of that New Years energy that everyone was always going on about. 

“Would you dance with me?” You asked him suddenly, interrupting his focus on the television. 

Alec stumbled over his response for a moment before settling and agreeing, standing up to move out into the clearer dining area. You grinned at him and changed the channel to the local countdown. You muted the television and put some soft music on to sway too. 

Alec took your hand and your waist, the warmth of his hand bleeding through your shirt. 

“Bit out of the blue, love,” he said, shuffling a little closer. You shrugged and held on a little tighter. 

“Yeah, I just- I’ve not really done the New Years thing before but I wanted to do something small with you. New Years kiss, some dancing, you know.” 

“Truth be told, I’ve never really done the New Years thing either,” he responded, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes, feeling such an overwhelming sensation of peace. “Never saw the appeal,” he continued, twirling you around his arm softly. “But y’ken- I’ve never had someone special as you  t’share it with like this.” 

Your cheeks blushed the lightest shade of pink and you giggled. 

“Someone special, hey?” You asked. You would have elbowed him if your hands hadn’t been in his and on his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” His voice was so soft and quiet it was a wonder you even heard it. 

A flash on the television behind you caught your eye. You looked over to see the one-minute countdown starting. You chewed on your lip. All of a sudden you were nervous- why were you nervous? 

Alec chuckled and gave you another twirl. 

“Another year ‘a this shite, eh? Who wouldn’t want t’share that wi’ y’er, darlin’?” 

You had to tamp down your smile. Forty-four seconds left. 

“Another year of this? Sign me up, my love,” you replied giddily, resisting the urge to kiss him right then and there. Thirty-two seconds left. 

“Y’might come to regret that,” he chuckled, slowly coming to a stop and cupping your chin with his hand. The way he was looking at you was so intensely affectionate it was hard to keep eye contact with him. Thirteen seconds left.

“Never,” you replied breathily as he leaned in. A statement but also a promise. Your eyes flicked to the television briefly. 

Five. 

Four. 

Three. 

Two. 

Faint cheering could be heard from the town centre, fireworks popping in the distance. Loud music only just managing to reach Alec’s place. But your brain was drowning all of that out, focussed only on his lips on yours. A first for both of you and a promise of commitment. 

A promise you both intended to keep for much longer than a meagre twelve months.

[lucidreamer-uwu]

Hi! Can I request headcannons for cuddling with the om brothers?

Cuddling with you

LUCIFER

Would most of the time be the big spoon. Times when you'd be the big spoon is when he passes out before you even get to the bed.

Loves to burry his face snuggly in the base of your neck.

Cuddling with him would always involve a little teasing.

Praises you through sweet whispers in your ear.

The way he holds you makes you feel safe and the kisses he plants on your head lulls you to sleep soundly.

MAMMON

Completely encases you in his arms.

Likes to have his head on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat and hug your abdomen.

He tells you about his day and asks about yours as he holds you. Most of the time he rants about his day while you hug his head dearly. And you'd both fall asleep like that.

Might hug you a little too tight sometimes.

Has drooled on you multiple times before.

Has squashed you multiple times before.

Will definitely give you pouty kisses.

Due to his naturally possessive nature, he'd give you zero personal space. He'd be clinging on you for hours if you were cuddling.

LEVIATHAN

At first he'd be VERY conscious about even touching you but would eventually get used to it.

When he does get used to cuddling with you, he'd crave it every now and then and at the most random times.

Doesn't matter where you were, he'd need his cuddles ASAP.

At RAD? He'll pull you away from the group and literally just hold you in his arms in an empty hallway or classroom.

In someone else's room? He'd YEET you out of there, not caring what his brothers say.

You aren't around? He'd blow up your phone just to ask for cuddles.

The best cuddles he gives though is whenever he's jealous. Yes. When he's jealous after seeing you give anyone a hug, you'd be cuddling hours on end. He'd be so clingy that he even carries you to the kitchen to restock on his food and drinks supply for his room.

SATAN

He will always be the big spoon unless you want to be or when he's in a pouty/grumpy mood and you have to cheer him up.

He sometimes sings you songs. Other times he tells you his favorite stories that he's got memorized.

Talks about his day and asks about yours. It would often start with him ranting about something, but would always end in fluff and him purring.

One arm wraps around you and the other rests on your waist or hip is his favorite default cuddle position.

ASMODEUS

Weirdly likes to hug certain portions of your body at different times.

Sometimes likes to hug mainly your arm, sometimes your leg, other times your head. Something like a koala bear.

Loves to play with your hair, style it, comb it with his fingers, tuck it behind your ears/mess it up.

Rubs his cheeks on you.

Pets you a lot.

Says your name while he sleeps with a happy expression.

BEELZEBUB

When you cuddle, he always makes it a point to hold your hand — to intertwine your fingers together.

He wants you over him most of the time just so he's sure that he wouldn't squish you.

You cuddle facing each other and his hands are behind your back, securing you completely.

He often sniffs your hair and kisses your head afterwards. The smell of you drives him crazy, not because he has the urge to nom you, but because he cherishes you do much.

BELPHEGOR

He almost always demands that you hug him with you entire body when you cuddle.

He'd be lying on his side and you'd be hugging his torso so that your head is just under his chin.

Your legs must straddle his abdomen too. He loves it when you're as close to him as possible.

Lays his chin on top of your head and kisses your hair everytime he wakes up in the middle of his naps.

Sorry for the late answer but here it is anon! Hope it isn't trash :")

Tag List: @mcx7demonbros @gojohater101 @my-names-angel-but-im-not-one

[pearwaldorf]

I have been trying to write this on and off for a while. I figure the second anniversary of the show is as fine an occasion as any to shove it out into the world. It is not everything I want to say about it, but I think the important bits are there.

It is a human impulse to be seen. To be told, through art, you are not alone. It is universal, but of special importance to people who are not well-represented in media (i.e. everybody who isn’t cis, white, able-bodied, skinny, and conventionally attractive).   

This show speaks to me as a queer person who figured things out later than most of my peers. (Not quite as late as Ed and Stede but not terribly far off either.) It’s not super common to see queer media address this, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that reassurance until I got it. That it’s okay to find these things any time in your life. To be told “A queer is never late, they’re always fashionably on-time.” 

They’re not my first canon queer ship. But they are the first ones where I knew it was true from the get-go. Multiple people assured me this was the case. And yet, I still didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes. This experience is not unusual for fans around my age.  

After I finished up season one, I laid in bed and cried. It’s not something I thought would affect me so much, but it feels like a weight I’d carried so long I didn’t realize it wasn’t supposed to be part of me is gone.

One of the reasons people unfamiliar with the fandom seem to think it’s absolutely crazy (which some of it is, to be fair, but every fandom has that) is the way fans of the show get extremely super intense about it. It took me a few weeks to realize this is a trauma response. I’m not even sure “trauma” is the right word. It doesn’t interfere with my day to day function, but it lasted for years. Decades. So it was definitely something that fucked me up. And in the way you can only start to see something as you’re moving past it, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get my head around this. (I don’t know if I have anything to say about it yet. Maybe I need more time to sit with it.)

I know this sounds contrary, but I’m really glad David Jenkins does not come from fandom. Sometimes it’s good to know where a line is, and others it’s better to not know there’s a line at all. And this is, sad to say, remarkable to somebody who has had to deal with this for so long. With so many writers and showrunners aware of the line, and getting right up next to it, but never crossing it.

Imagine doing a show with a queer romance and not understanding why this was received with such emotion and fervor, because it’s just two people in love right? What blissful ignorance that this needed to be explained to him! And then he listened to people’s experiences with queerbaiting, and went “Oh my god you thought I was going to do WHAT?” And then you go “Huh. That is really fucked up.” 

The problem with being told something enough, even though you know it’s wrong, is you start to believe it regardless. All the excuses and hedging. It’s so very difficult to do they tell us, when we hear from queer creators how they had fight tooth and nail to make it as gay as it already was. 

And then comes Jenks, just yeeting it out there: majority queer and (not and/or. and) POC cast, an openly non-binary person playing an openly non-binary character. The ability to not have to make one queer (and/or) POC character speak for everybody, so you can inject a tiny bit of nuance into the conversation. The way you can tell more kinds of stories, like the one where the smol angry internalized homophobe comes into his own with the support of a queer community, even though he was a giant fucking asshole to them before.

So many people were like “You can just DO that? It’s really that easy?” And wasn’t that a fucking Situation, to have that curtain pulled aside. What next? Majority POC casts with stories about POC written by POC? Absolute madness. (Please please watch The Brothers Sun on Netflix. It’s so fucking good.) 

And people will scoff and say “Of course a cishet(?) white man would be able to get this pushed through.” But do they usually? The thing I don’t think people understand about allies is they use their privilege to wedge the door open. You still have to do the work to get through, but at least you have a place to start. And it really fucking matters.

The press keeps trying to tell me The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin is the OFMD substitute we need while we float in the gravy basket. I’m sure it’s a perfectly fine show, but I don’t know who has watched OFMD and decided the itch we needed scratched was anachronistic historical comedy.

I want stories written by people that reflect their lived experiences, with actors and crew committed to bringing that to life. And I would like streamers and studios to commit to giving them a chance, and marketing them properly so people know they exist. 

You can keep people satisficed with scraps for only so long. At some point, somebody is going to give them a whole seven course dinner and people will wonder why they’ve been putting up with starving this entire time.

[no-psi-nan]

Haha no worries! It's downplayed a lot in the series because it's supposed to be a comedy, but when you start looking more closely at the stuff Kuniharu does, it paints a picture of a terrible father and a bad husband too.

It's been a topic on the blog several times, so I'm sure people can chime in with more evidence, but here's what's off the top of my head...

Raised Kusuke. Nuff said tbh lol.

Kuniharu calls Kusuo a monster multiple times and is almost certainly the reason why Kusuke and Kusuo himself believe that Kusuo is an inhuman freak. This attitude is certainly not coming from Kurumi, and nobody else knew about Kusuo's power. From the beginning of the series, Kusuo genuinely believes he's unable to connect with other human beings, and it's mostly because of this attitude inherited from his father.

Kuniharu is never seen attempting to prevent Kusuke from constantly picking fights with his brother, and only attempting to discipline Kusuo for behavior that Kuniharu considers disrespectful to him. This is mostly a fact by omission, but we do see him belittling Kusuke when the kid obviously already has an inferiority problem.

Kuniharu is one of the worst performers at his job and the first to be let go in the case of a crisis. When he loses his job, he's unable to find any others because his only real skill is shoe-licking. This was a parody chapter though so questionably canon. He's always running late for his job though and we see him trying to make a manga artist rip off Naruto, so honestly it makes sense that he's that bad at his job. The only time he's shown as slightly competent at his job was during a parody chapter too hsfjdlshfks.

However what's definitely canon is that he either doesn't make much money or mis-spends most of it. In an area where Nendo's mom, a single woman, and Satou's family, the exact average family, can afford to live, Kuniharu had to take out an 80 year mortgage to pay for a similarly sized home. For context, most mortgages are for 30 years, 15 if you git gud. Btw, the house was literally a gift from Kusuke, Kuniharu insisted on paying out of manly pride or something. Sir, Kusuke is a freaking billionaire and this is like the only single no-strings-attached genuinely kind thing he's ever done hsfjdlshfks

Completely irresponsible with money: has a huge Valentine's day budget for his wife's gift ($3,000 iirc?) and then spends it all at the bar paying for his coworkers' drinks (the same guys who abuse him at his job and think he's garbage). He also spends huge amounts of money on his model figure collection, and has a whole room of gym equipment he never uses. As a result, Kusuo has a very small allowance and for some reason, his one favorite food (coffee jelly) is not included in the grocery list. Even though Kusuo canonically gets insane rock bottom prices for literally everything that gets bought in the household. How do you fuck up so badly financially that you can't buy your clinically depressed son the one (inexpensive!) thing that brings him joy??

By the way, Kuniharu started dating Kurumi when he was a college student and she was in high school. Kusuke was born like a year after they met, so you can do the math about how little time he spent before knocking her up 😬 They basically had a shotgun wedding. No wonder Kurumi's dad is NOT a fan of Kuniharu...

Literally one of the first chapters is Kuniharu and Kurumi domestic violence but make it funny. They're throwing furniture, Kuniharu is breaking the windows, Kurumi is yeeting her husband, and all this shit is over a single coffee jelly, which again, should be a normal part of the groceries for their household. They constantly bring their son into this drama too, which I'm sure is fantastic for his mental and emotional development btw.

There's a manga exclusive chapter that's a parody, so questionably canon, but in it Kuniharu physically attacks Kusuo multiple times over differences in opinion.

However, it IS canon that Kuniharu takes any opportunity to try to physically harm Kusuo. Ex. Hitting him in the massage episode and trying to step on him when he turns tiny.

Canon tries to redeem him a bit by showing moments where Kusuo is a baby and Kuniharu is trying really hard to make him smile because he wants his baby boy to be happy. Unfortunately that just makes it seem like he tried to be a good father for a bit when Kusuo was a baby, and then as soon as Kusuo's powers developed enough to make him miserable (the time when he needs the MOST familial support!), Kuniharu just gives up, and starts using Kusuo as his personal genie in a bottle. While also trying to fix his own fragile ego by attempting to establish dominance over his son. ????? Get therapy bro.

Canon also shows that Kuniharu's love points for Kusuo are the same as for his wife, however, not even Kuniharu believes that, as he tries to run away to evade it hsfjdlshfks. And even if he does love his son that much, he certainly doesn't show it in any meaningful way, because his literal MIND-READING SON doesn't know that. There are plenty of parents who truly love their kids and still abuse them like hell because they think that's the right thing to do (see Kaido's mom being overly strict because she wants to see him succeed in life), so the love points don't mean much imo.

Kuniharu does dole out a couple of pieces of wisdom (at Kusuo's wrong date birthday party and in the volcano arc) but that really doesn't make up for anything and even his wife thinks he's childish so... 🇫

Kuniharu is definitely funny as a character, and like I said, most of this requires digging into canon a little more, but once you start looking, it becomes clear that Kuniharu is just not a good person, father, or husband.

Like, I totally get that having a genius and a god as your kids would not be easy for any parent, but Kuniharu really doesn't try to make life better for either of his sons, preferring to get into petty squabbles with his wife and play video games/build models the rest of the time. I'm not saying dads can't have hobbies, but the only times we see him spending time with Kusuo is usually when he's begging for a favor, and he also clearly does zero housework whatsoever, so...

Anyways, I think Kurumi deserves a better husband and Kusuo deserves a better parent (or at least a break from being used as a magical favor vending machine lol) so I often joke on here that Kurumi should get a divorce and run polls about who she should marry instead and such!

Hope this helps! 👍🏾 Thanks for the question!

[teecupangel]

I had this unhinged crossover idea, Desmond getting yeeted into left 4 dead. Consider this like a really, really late Halloween thing.

I hadn't thought too much on how things would play out for Desmond but all I know is he fucking hates it, he's thought he hated being the main target for Abstergo? Oh he's gonna hate the undead despite feeling a bit of sympathy for them.

I mean, the green flu appeared to have started slowly before things spiraled out of control continuing to evolve and further spread, and the next thing people knew, their loved ones were dropping like flies only to rise once more and begin just attacking out of nowhere. Heartbreaking to him but now his fight for survival just got worse, there's no innocents anymore, and survivors who were once kind and generous are now willing to kill other survivors just to stay safe and get supplies.

He did find some of the saferoom wall writing hilarious though, if he found a marker he totally adds his two cents in.

Absolutely hates the special infected, avoiding witches? He can manage that unless some idiot startles her, first encounter he had was not fun- he swore his heart stopped for a second hearing the witch screech. And don't get him started on the hunters, they boggle his mind and make him internally rage. Of all special infected, he's 100,000% certain if he drops and all he'd end up a hunter, and that thought terrifies him above all else.

Like, could you imagine that? Hunter!Desmond would be a freaking menace, and unlike other hunters who aren't all that silent due to his training and bleeding effects, his stealth goes above and beyond what the typical hunter is capable of. Nightmare fuel for sure.

Well, this is obviously a very late Halloween thing because I just answered this today XD

I have fond memories of L4D as it was the game me and my friends would play between classes if we were quite bored. I even play Back 4 Blood with my friend a few months back just to get back to that L4D feel (and also because it was one of the few games we both had that we could play together hahahaha).

Out of all the infected, I prefer being the Hunter so there’s definitely some bias when I say that I agree with you that Desmond would definitely be the worst kind of Hunter.

Made for stealth and speed, compounded by his unique genetics that makes him the closest Isu among the humans if we don’t count the Sages.

He wouldn’t just be a Hunter, he’d be a mutated Hunter.

One might even call him the Apex Hunter.

His vision would stay in a heightened state of Eagle Vision, unaffected by flashbangs or any kind of tools that might impede his visions or other senses.

The heightened state of Eagle Vision meant that not even walls can hide his preys and he has… ‘favorites’, one might say.

The Apex Hunter would prioritize hunting and turning specific humans.

Humans that would turn into Hunters as well, joining him with some kind of strange pack-like intuition.

To the humans, it would seem random and they won’t realize it but the Apex Hunter…

He turns those that glowed bright to him.

Those with higher Isu genes that the rest.

And it is those nightmares that plague Desmond’s sleep.

It makes him fear being infected.

Not that it was easy for him to be infected.

He wore a mask to cover his face and lessen the chance of being hit by blood or any kind of body fluids from those he takes down. He goes to the nearest museum and ransacks their historical weapon and armor displays, going for the chainmail and leather armor instead of a full metal armor. It was as light as he could get it while offering the necessary protections as he sometimes has no choice but to get into close combat with them.

He goes for weapons his Bleeds are familiar with, a hunting bow for stealth kills that wouldn’t alert the hordes, a sword with the nearest weight to what he was familiar with, a hunting dagger that he uses more as a utility tool than anything else and an emergency pistol he got from an undead police officer he took down.

He kept his identity a secret. There was no need to tell everyone he was Desmond Miles, not when he’s not sure yet if Abstergo had already been wiped out or if they’re not behind the scenes, protected by the best security money can buy.

He woke up alone, in a room that had enough clues for him to figure out that he was about to be dissected (or vivisected since he wasn’t dead yet).

No clues on where the Assassins were.

If there were even Assassins left.

All he knew was that he woke up and the world had turned into a post zombie apocalypse.

So he continues to travel, focusing on the rooftops to traverse and only making contact with other survivors when it was necessary (or if his kindness gets the better of him).

He does not give a name.

But his existence is whispered regardless.

The White Hood.

A man clad in a white hoodie with a blank mask that covers his entire face.

You know when you see him because…

His white clothes do not have a speck of blood at all.

[offonaherosjourney]

The immense rewatch value of Knives Out and Glass Onion

One thing I really love about Knives Out and Glass Onion (spoilers for both movies, btw) is their rewatch value. I love murder mysteries, but I don't think I've seen any more than twice or three times, and yet I've watched Glass Onion 4 times so far and Knives Out so many times I'm embarassed to even type the number. And lately I'd been thinking about what might be the reason why I keep coming back to these movies and about how I'm still enjoying them wholeheartedly despite knowing the dialogue of Knives Out almost to heart, and I think I've figured out why.

Watching a murder mystery for the first time is enjoyable because you're wrapped up in the mystery and in trying to guess the murderer. And then on your second watch you might know who the murderer is, but you still enjoy it because you get to pay attention to all the things you didn't notice or didn't know were clues the first time.

Rewatching Knives Out and Glass Onion is extremely enjoyable not only because you get to spot all the clues now, but also because of the seamless way Rian Johnson weaves humor into these films. After a couple viewings you might get tired of watching Wanetta Thrombey calling Marta "Ransom", or watching Miles place his glass on Dukes hand... but do you know what you don't get tired of? Marta's clumsy attempts to sabotage Blanc's investigation. Ransom telling his family to eat shit. Marta yeeting that piece of trellis only for the dog to bring it back. Or Blanc solving Miles' silly murder mystery in thirty seconds. The hot sauce scene. Blanc calling Miles a vainglorious buffoon.

And since the scripts are so brilliant and packed with little details, further rewatches of the films keep rewarding you with other little things you might not have picked up the first or second time. How, when the Thrombeys recount Harlan's birthday they all put themselves next to him, or when you realize that they don't know where Marta is from, or how they casually hand her their plates as if she's their maid. How telling are the masks each character wears and how they behave in the pier scene, the red solo cup Miles gives Peg, the painting that is hanged upside down, Helen in the end sitting with the exact same pose as the Mona Lisa.

Now, add to that all that the social critique in the films and their clear "fuck the rich" message, made manifest by a cast of unlikeable assholes that holy shit you lowkey wish all were responsible for the murder because you hate them and want to see all of them behind bars. Also, let's not forget about the world's greatest detective in this film universe, who happens to be unabashedly human. Benoit Blanc is an extremely likable character that captivates the audience's heart not because of his superior intellect and deduction skills, but because of his empathy. Because he makes sure that Marta understands she is a good nurse. Because he tells Helen to get the justice she deserves.

The result of all that stuff is that a movie whose greatest appeal might have been its whodunnit aspect on a first watch, on future ones presents a sort of good vs evil stakes. Because Marta is a good person and you like her and want her to learn she didn't murder Harlan and get the house and money she earned by being a good friend. Because Helen deserves justice and you like her and you can't wait to see her cathartic and righteous anger be the spark that lights the fire that burns down Miles Bron's empire built out of lies, theft and murder.

That's why I keep watching these movies over and over and why I'll never grow tired of watching them.

[thunderous-mess]

In the Little Things

Words: 865

Ship: Haikavehtham, Feat. Tighnonari (all unspecified roles)

Characters: Alhaitham, Kaveh

Summary: Kaveh is jealous of how much Cyno and Tighnari trust the other with their things while he and Alhaitham DEFINITELY don't do that.

After a fight with Alhaitham, Kaveh would often go to Tighnari's house to calm down and vent. One time, instead of Nari he finds Cyno (Nari's partner). As he explains, Tighnari had to go out for something urgent. Something about a bridge collapsing after that morning’s rain.

It's not the same as having his best friend hear him out, but Cyno is surprisingly good at listening, so Kaveh talks and talks, and before he knows it it's nighttime already. Feeling like he's overstaying, he quickly says goodbye, and Cyno accompanies him to the door.

It's cold. And his blouse doesn't cover much, so he immediately shivers upon feeling the cold wind. It's gonna be a long walk home. He may be sick tomorrow. Life absolutely sucks.

Cyno is quick to notice and offers him one of Tighnari's blankets. Colorful, fuzzy on the inside and looking so, so warm. It's like a blessing from Celestia. But it's Nari's, he couldn't take it. They're both busy, who knows when he'd find the time to give it back??

But Cyno tells him to take it anyway, and keep it for as long as he needs to.

Kaveh can't understand how Cyno could so easily give him something that's not even his to begin with, so he comments on it, to which Cyno just answers "It's ok, we've been together for years already. Whatever is mine, is Nari's too, and it goes both ways. Just take it."

He can't complain any further and can't afford to get sick in the cold either (life's too busy for getting sick), so Kaveh ends up taking it.

On the way back, he can't help but be jealous of the trust and closeness between his friends. Alhaitham and him had dated for years too but he couldn't imagine doing anything like that. If he ever gave out something that belonged to Alhaitham, even if justified, he would surely be scolded. And he too would berate Alhaitham to death if he did something like that. Knowing him, Alhaitham would surely give away something important too.

What was Kaveh's was Kaveh's and what was Alhaitham's was Alhaitham's. They could never have that sort of trust.

Knowing that only makes him feel like they were failing as a couple, and after all the effort he puts in every day, it’s infuriating. Besides, there’s something wrong with his shoes today and having to walk back like that only makes him angrier.

Frustrated, he remembers that it’s his turn to make dinner. But it's late, and he's tired, so instead he stops at Lambad's to buy a couple of warm dishes. He wouldn't usually overspend like that, but it's ok since he’s using the pocket money Alhaitham had lent him after being in red numbers post-rent. It was Alhaitham's money, and for Alhaitham's food. Whatever.

But it soon proves to be lost money because upon arriving, he notices Alhaitham isn't even home.

Exhausted, he yeets off his shoes and almost chokes when he realizes that they were not the problem at all, the shoes were just fine. He had just been wearing Alhaithams ginormous socks all day tucked inside his little shoes.

Definitely because that careless dumbass never knows what clothes are his and always ends mixing them up when doing laundry. It wouldn't be the first time Alhaitham ended up wearing Kaveh’s underwear either. He really should start embroidering Alhaitham's name in all his clothes as if he was a little kid.

Regardless, he goes to get water. But of course, Alhaitham had spent the whole day at work and he had been out talking to Cyno, so the pile of dishes was... memorable. And the only clean cups were Alhaitham's absurdly expensive and ugly ceramic glasses with hideous abstract aranaras on the sides and even the bottom of them. Ugh.

He hasn't had time to unpack his meal when someone calls to their door.

Luckily, it's just the Traveler asking for some documents Alhaitham asked them to bring (seems like he really is doing overtime). He welcomes them inside and lets them wander around to fetch those papers. As expected, Alhaitham’s desk is a mess. But at least it’s the exact same mess every time, so Kaveh has no problem browsing through them to find the reports the Traveler was asking for. They were of course under Kaveh’s sketchbooks.

Paimon’s comment on how fast he found them almost makes him laugh.

“This may be Alhaitham’s home, but I live here too. It would be troublesome if none of us two could find his things.”

Hours later, wrapped up in Alhaitham’s bed and blankets, wearing Alhaitham’s pajamas and paging through Alhaitham’s book in an attempt to convince himself that no, he doesn’t miss him nor is he waiting for his boyfriend to come back and reconcile. Only then, thinking about his day he realizes that well, although a little different, Haitham and he do trust each other a liiiiitle bit with their things. Their money, their clothes, their work, their gouse… It’s not as obvious as Cyno’s blatant ways to show it off, but… it was there, in the little things. Private. Intimate. Theirs. And that was enough.

This was meant to be a short HC that would fit on a Tweet, but oh well...

[doiefics]

work can wait for other days

pairing: baekhyun x afab!reader

prologue: what could possibly surprise baekhyun more than discovering you at work on a typical day, but well, he's a gangster

genre: gangster!baekhyun +  established relationship!au + fluff + crack

wordcount: 1,000

warnings: pregnancy + very slight violence

It was a typical Thursday, late in the morning. The commute was rather sluggish, but perhaps it was nothing compared to everyone's speed at work.

They were not to blame, for any exciting thing, no matter how small or big, was always distracting enough.

You see, the brainstorming process starts even before the work at hand is done and dusted, maybe like already drooling over that tiramisu for dessert when your plate barely has starters on it. 

For the majority of people, it was a Friday's worth of waiting, but you were just as impatient and eager—but not because it was the weekend.

As you obstinately paced up and down the waiting area, you were fairly certain that you were irking the receptionist.

However, everything came to an abrupt stop even before the train of your flawless thoughts could reach the first junction.

It was "pretty loud for a hospital." You said these things to yourself in a low voice as you joined the other human meerkats, their necks reaching as far as they could and their minds unusually interested.

Your senses lately appear to be much more perceptive. 

An array of about half a dozen black cars, quick in speed and quick to hit the breaks, creating those overwhelmingly annoying screeching sounds, were to be seen.

Accompanied by a ridiculous number of men, guns appeared like toys in whosr hands. The next thing you knew, the front glass at the hospital was shattered, and even though it was both chaotic and intimidating, you watched this without a look of worry on your face because you were used to witnessing similar happenings. 

"What is he doing over here?" You weren't concerned until now, noticing a strangely familiar face amid the towering, intimidating, strong males. 

Before he could even take off his charcoal black Ray Ban shades, more men were at the scene, dressed in suits and shining leather shoes, wrists with expensive timepieces, you see, like any of those other rich men.

"This wasn't needed, we already negotiated that with you." One of them started pleading and rubbing his hands in front of the Ray-Ban guy, but you knew him too well to be able to predict his next action. 

He sighed. Dramatically. 

"Would be a shame if some killings were to happen at a place like this." He cursed, rolling his eyes and glancing around the hospital. The receptionist, who was in the middle of making a phone call, suddenly halted the process at his gaze. He smirked.

Okay, now that was unnecessary. 

The next thing you knew, he rolled the sleeves of his fancy blue shirt as his men basically yeeted away the other ones. You were sure more drama would ensue inside the closed chambers. Cliche power scenes like those in the movies.

"You really had to be here today, idiot!" You blurted it out, quietly, but not quite for the man's ear to miss it. The man would have been furious and snarky after hearing what you blurted out, but it all vanished at the sight of you. Considering that he was in the middle of attending to business, he was equally as astonished to see you here. 

"Y/N?" He was perplexed. This was the time one could normally find you at work. 

"Don't tell me you broke your phone again." You shook your head as his hands traced to his pockets, finding nothing but a severely cracked iPhone.

He signalled his men, with a flick of his fingers to continue with whatever they were here for. His eyes shifted like those of a five-year-old who just destroyed a pricey vase with his football as he turned back to face you.

"Don't give me that look." The scary man was scared of you.

To get the two of you to a more peaceful location quickly, you grabbed hold of his wrist. If you didn't, it wouldn't be long before gossip-hungry eyes began their customary camera recordings and active involvement on online forums. Picking up what seemed like a report from one of the desks. You had waited long enough. 

"This isn't time for paperwork, why are you here?" The man was chatty as usual.

"I told you about this hospital and its trashy director last week, right? Tough time extracting my money back from him." He went on.

"I didn't want any guns involved in the first place." And he never stopped.

"Really has the balls to come and plead at my face when it has already been about-"

"Baekhyun can you not keep quiet for a second, at least?" In his habitual pout, he attempted to cram his head within the papers before you hastily closed them, overwhelmed with unfamiliar feelings.

"I just hope your children don't end up being as chatty as you are." You crossed your arms and made every effort to keep your face expressionless. 

"Family planning all of a sudden?" Baekhyun was confused, again.

"You might be a big scary gangster or something, but did someone ever tell you you're just as dumb." You laughed at his bumbling expression.

"Wait!" His mouth was hanging wide, and his eyes were sparkling from the bliss he was experiencing. He simply wanted to be sure, and he wanted to be sure so much. 

"Are we.." He stopped. "We're having a baby," As he drew his body nearer, his hands instinctively sought your stomach.

"Well, not just a baby." You raised your eyebrow. 

"We're having twins?" He was basically screaming out of sheer joy.

"We are definitely not going to be quiet, right, guys?" He said as he bent down, placing a quick peck on your tummy.

"Don't worry, Mumma, you're gonna love us either way." He winked, standing up again, this time closer to your face, resting his forehead against yours.

Yet another rackety thud was to be heard, business was being taken care of properly. Baekhyun took a quick glance at the side.

"Maybe work can wait for some other day." 

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform