#what will happen??? i have no idea oops

[hellsite-detective]

[A letter has somehow appeared on your desk without you noticing. It's sealed with the symbol of a diamond embedded in pale blue wax. the letter itself is also written in blue ink.]

Miss Detective,

You've made something of a name for yourself around here haven't you? Well, you've made enough of a name to reach me, and that's considerably difficult to do.

I've got a case for you. I'd like you to go to that old laboratory on the outer edges of town, and find me the old blueprints stored in the main safe. Getting in will be the easy part, it's getting out that will be difficult. Of course, you will be compensated adequately.

Don't let me down, Detective.

-💎

now, i was no stranger to mysterious correspondences. as a private eye, i get these all the time. but something about this one seemed different. it seemed like this was gonna run deeper than i thought, beyond just a typical post case. the message was claimin’ that i had become rather well known, which i find rather hard to believe. but even so, i pressed on…

i was bein’ asked to go to some old laboratory on the edge of town, a part of the city i don’t travel to much, and why should i? nothing of note is out there, or so i thought. so, i grabbed my pistol, my hat, and my coat, and i headed out into the rain to begin my journey. i took a cab as far as possible, but the driver wouldn’t go the lab for some reason. something smelled fishy. like the message said, gettin’ inside was easy. just had to kick the door down. it was dark in there, but that wasn’t gonna stop me. you spend enough time with Madame Curator, you become accustomed to the darkness. pistol at the ready, i pressed on…

after lookin’ around for a bit, i eventually found the safe mentioned in the message. crackin’ it open was pretty easy. it was old and rusted, so i could pretty easily force it open. i looked inside to grab the blueprints but… nothing. just some blue toaster.

had i been set up??

[spacedace]

Had an idea, thought I'd make it a prompt, 3k+ words later realized this wasn't a prompt anymore but a ficlet 🙃

Anyway, here's the first almost 2k of Talia being a good parent and deciding to not go with either Bruce or Ra's and go off and do her own thing and raise Damian and oops she got attached to Jason while checking in on Bruce and saved him from dying in Ethiopia. & now has 2 sons lol

-

When her Beloved and her father demanded Talia make a choice, of who she would choose, she didn't hesitate.

She chose neither of them. She chose her child. She chose herself.

Outwitting both Ra's al Ghul and Batman was no simple feat. They were both brilliant, relentless and with endless resources at their command. It was why their clashes were as devastating as they were. Immovable objects and unstoppable forces the both of them. If there was something they wanted, it was something they would have.

But not her.

They would not have her.

She had her own networks, her own people, her own keen intelligence and sharp cunning. It took time - time she really didn't have - and a great deal of pain and loss, but she slipped them eventually. Shrugged off the shroud of who she had been - who she was made to be - and stepped confidently into her new life.

Her son was born nine days after her freedom had finally, fully been assured.

He was small and perfect in every way. Soft and warm cradled close to her chest, unblemished by the cruelty of the world as he slept soundly in her arms. Even as exhausted as she was after such a long labor, she couldn't bring herself to sleep. Her attention narrowed down entirely on his every quiet breath, his downy soft hair, his round peaceful face.

In the weeks that followed his eyes would shift and change from a newborn's blue to her own green. It would take years before she could know if he inherited any of his father's features, but that was fine. He was hers and hers alone.

She named him Damian.

In another life she would name him with her father in mind. That her son would rise as Heir to the Demon and conquer the world. That he'd stand as ruler of all.

In this one, she named him with hope in her heart that what he would master was his own life. That he would never be forced to bow to the will of anyone else. To be made to act as servant or puppet. Let him tame his fate into something good and kind and happy.

She did her best to give him the life he deserved.

Lavished him with all her love and affection. Gave him everything he could ever want or need. The friends she began making for herself - not just trusted allies, but friends - laughed that she would spoil him rotten. It was probably true, but she didn't have it in her to care.

Her son would have the childhood he would have been denied if raised raised in the home of either of their fathers. Her father would have demand harsh lessons and frightened obedience and impossible standards. Damian's would have tried - she knew her Beloved would have tried - but his heart would always be for his city first and all else, even his children, second.

Talia kept tabs on both of them, covertly. Ensured she always kept a healthy distance from anything that involved her father or his people. Gathered stories of her Beloved's exploits to share with her son when he was old enough to hear them.

It gave her insight on just what choosing her Beloved would have meant. Reassured her that while not choosing her father had been the right choice, choosing her Beloved would have been the wrong one.

Bruce Wayne was a good man. Brilliant and driven with his kind heart and admirable goals. Breathtaking in his skill and ability.

Disappointing in his parenting skills.

Talia knew she was lacking as a parent herself. That her own upbringing had left its scars and that try as she might she'd undoubtedly end up doing the same to her own child over the years. But she always pushed herself hard towards improving, in making herself better for the tiny boy that she loved more than anything else. And she felt satisfied that in the very least that when presented with options on how her and her son's life would be, she'd made the one that was best for Damian.

Not the life of an assassin or a vigilante, but the life of a child.

A child who was taught some of the skills of both the worlds she'd turned her back on, admittedly, but only ever for his own protection. Damian was safer knowing how to hide, how to escape, how to fight. She had done her best, but there was always the looming threat that they might be found one day. She needed to be sure he was ready, if that time ever come.

She didn't teach him the way she was taught.

When her son fumbled or failed she gently corrected him. Walked him through what he'd done wrong, how he could improve. Made a game out of the experience so that he came running up to her on toddling feet with bright eyes begging that they have a lesson. His excitement and delight in it all made him a better student then her fear and desperate need for her father's approval and affection.

There was a day she caught sight of him, all of four years old, tiny face scrunched in a look of concentration as he practiced the form she'd taught him the day before with his small, wooden practice sword. Some of his father's features lingered at the edges of his face, but he'd deepened his resemblance to her by picking up her mannerisms and expressions. Her son, going through the same steps and motions she had when she'd been his age, little body wobbling as he turned to fast before plopping on the ground with a tiny oof.

Talia had small silver scars on the back of her hands, so thin and so old as to nearly be invisible anymore. They burned all the same as she recalled herself stumbling in nearly the same way. Stomach churning as she remembered the terror she'd felt as her instructor had snatched her up by her hair and drug her over to a low table, holding her hands in place with a massive hand. The way she'd bit her lip hard enough that her mouth filled with blood as he struck her with the thin lash, knowing that if she cried the punishment would be all the worse.

Damian only blinked his big green eyes and scowled the same way she did whenever something of minor importance didn't go the way she wanted it to. Then he saw her standing there in the doorway watching him and his face lit up, bright as the son and just as beautiful as he jumped to his feet and darted over to her. Tiny hand clinging to the loose fabric of her pant leg as he begged her show me again Mama!

It was moments like that where she knew beyond any shadow of a doubt she'd made the right choice.

Her father would have broken her brilliant, kind hearted son. Would have done to him what was done to her to forge Damian into a weapon.

Her beloved...

He would never hurt her son like that. Not the way her father and his loyal followers would. But she couldn't ignore the fact that Damian would still be hurt all the same under his father's tutelage.

Talia knew the man she loved well. Adored his strengths, but was not blind to his flaws. He kept his heart well guarded, hidden behind imposing walls of silence and razor wire of words he didn't truly mean. Still kind, but horribly distant when it came to those he cared for most. It shielded him some, perhaps, but it left those who loved him feeling lost and alone.

She saw how Dick Grayson had grown over the years. Tall and clever and lonely and bitter. Fighting for independence, for acknowledgement, for his father to speak words of love and respect. Things Bruce felt but almost never said unless he thought things were dire.

She saw too how the heavy weight of her Beloved's priorities weighed up on his second son.

Young Jason Todd who saw magic in the harsh world he'd been drawn into and desired to be the protection for others that he never had growing up. She saw much of herself in him, though he faced the world with far more hope than she had at his age. He was a bright boy with a good heart that had weathered a harsh upbringing that Talia could sympathize with. There was a familiar anger in him too, broiling just beneath the surface, flaring up and burning him as much as everyone else when triggered.

Most of all though Talia could see the desperate loneliness that had marred her own life in the boy. The soul deep fear of abandonment. The painful desire for love from a father that always seemed to stay at arm's length who spoke rarely of affection and often of missions to be completed.

She kept a close eye on her Beloved's second Robin.

When he left for Ethiopia, searching for family in a stranger that had already given him up, she'd followed.

Jason only ever wanted family and love. A good boy, bright and fierce and brave. A boy Talia saw a lot of herself in, who faced the world with such determined brightness in spite of the pain and hardship he'd known.

Shelia Haywood took that boy that Talia had grown so fond of, took his trust and his love and crushed it beneath her heel. Callously handed him over to the Joker without a second thought. As if he was disposable, as if he was nothing more than a puppet to use and toss away when it suited her.

Talia had risked everything when she'd decided she would not choose either her father or her Beloved. She'd turned her back on her entire life, everything that had ever been and ever could be on either side. She spent months running, hiding, fighting and killing, in orchestrating a plan that could outwit and outmaneuver the two most brilliant men she knew. And she'd done it all so that her son could live free, as master of his own life.

Jason Todd had come to Ethiopia looking for a mother.

Talia, with blood on her hands and a burning warehouse behind her as she carried his broken body to safety, made sure he found one.

[graedari]

Hehe hoho- Flynn and Clu the relationship that I think never got to be fully explored my beloved. If only Clu hadn't caused Genocide <3 I just think that they can be so chaotic together (and heart wrenching with that one in the top right am i right?)

Anyhow- please enjoy them <3

[Image ID in alt]

[nohrslittleflower]

attention; or lack thereof,

Cute little ball drabble? Wrong. Pipe bomb.

Growing up, Elise had only ever wanted one thing.

She runs through the castle halls, giggling as ever, throwing the door to her mother’s room open eagerly. Her mouth opens, hands lifted to present her mother with her newest creation, but not even air escapes before she’s halted. “Elise, please. My head…” Her mother winces, and her eagerness fades. 

“O-Oh. Sorry, mother…” Her smile falls to an expression of guilt, and her hands lower alongside, gift still clasped tightly within them. Though the momentary glint of the gift from its second in the light doesn’t go unnoticed by her mother, who sits up to mention it. “Is that a necklace?”Elise lights up once more, scrambling over to her mother’s bedside so that her mother can take the carefully crafted necklace from her hands. “Y-Yeah! I made—“ “It’s from King Garon, isn’t it?”

Her mother hums, snatching the necklace from her hands and holding it up to the light as she watches the reflection off of each and every one of the mismatched gems, each chosen without an overall symmetry in mind. Only chosen because the little princess had thought her mother might like them. “Hm. Not the prettiest thing, but it’s that thought that counts. And that means he was thinking of me! Oh, Elise, isn’t it wonderful? He does care!”

She feels like she’s been punched. But at least her mother is in a good mood! That’s what matters! Maybe she’ll feel well enough to listen, just for a minute...! “So… since I delivered it, can you play with me? I thought of this great new game— you wouldn’t even have to get out of bed! We can just—“

“Later, Elise.” But later never comes.

“I don’t feel well today, Elise.” But she says that every day.

She tries to be understanding. She knows her mother is sick, it’s not her fault. So all she can do is try. Try to help. Try to get her mother everything she can think she might need before even the nurses can, hoping only to hear a semblance of ‘good job, Elise’. Try to be a constant source of positivity, to cheer her up, so her mother doesn’t feel any worse.

Try to learn healing magic, in hopes that maybe, just maybe she’ll be good enough one day to heal her mother.

And maybe, just maybe, she’ll tell her she’s proud of her.

She looks down, backing away from her mother’s bedside. It’s stupid to cry over this. It doesn’t matter. She just doesn’t feel good, it’s not her fault. She can try again tomorrow. “…okay…” The door clicks shut.

When the day comes that her mother weakens to the point of no return, when she’s finally allowed close enough for long enough to hold her mother’s hand. Something she’d hoped for for so long, yet now that she has it a choked sob of “Mother….” Is all she can manage. A silent plea of ‘look at me’, of ‘pay attention to me’. A silent cry of ‘love me’. 

Her mother’s voice speaks, quietly and weakly, but Elise hears it as clearly as if it were the loudest scream. “…where’s…” The princess’s head perks up, eyes filled with the light of hope that flickers to life in her heart. ‘My baby’? ‘My daughter’? ‘My princess’? ‘Elise’? “…King Garon…?”

Her mother’s hand falls limp in her grasp. She’s shoved aside by all manner of adults the moment it happens, none taking even a moment to notice the silent tears of the little girl beside them. 

Growing up, all Elise had ever wanted was her mother’s attention.

But she’d never have it.

[endless-season]

Venting to the mother

[honeyvenommusic]

❗️NEWGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSAN-

[total-drama-brainrot]

my total drama oc is a reversal of the show's pre-established "villain" archetype.

right off the bat, they're just the worst person; outright antagonistic towards everyone and constantly causing conflict amidst the cast, openly orchestrating people's eliminations, blatantly cheating but in such a way that technically they're not breaking any rules- without disguising themself behind a mask of geniality (like alejandro, heather and julia did).

and they're kept around well into the competition because their villainy? it's ratings gold. people love a good antagonist, especially one that's so productive. the audience loves to hate them, or hates that they love them, and everyone is gunning for their downfall- which only becomes more and more tempting with every elimination.

plus, chris is more than happy to enable them so long as they keep things interesting.

interestingly enough, they never seem to use the confessional. or at least, none of their confessions are aired. well, that's not exactly true. one confession is aired, and it's them boasting to the audience that they wouldn't understand the inner machinations of their mind, and that they don't deserve to hear their thoughts.

consequently, the audience has no idea what they're thinking at any given time, only seeing glimpses of their schemes throughout the episode until everything comes to fruition- like a puzzle finally being completed. it's a smart move for the network, because it means the audience gets to watch their plans play out in 'real time' without their insight/foreknowledge, making it just as impactful to the viewers as it is to the competitors. it helps with immersion, which is a boon for the ratings!

until their elimination, wherein their confessions are played out on the big screen, and it's heartbreaking.

they explain, in their first confession, that they were accosted by chris at the beginning of the competition to act as the main antagonistic force for the show, and that he's turn a blind eye to their antics so long as they kept the viewers watching, even paying them a decent salary if their act was good enough. because they're smart- smart enough to play the rest of the cast like a fiddle if they wanted to, and chris wants them to.

what a great deal, right? being given blanket permission to be as conniving as possible, and a pay check to boot- who wouldn't take the opportunity?

and they round it out by "getting into character" on camera, sneering haughtily at the lens and- you guessed it- boasting to the audience that they wouldn't understand the inner machinations of their mind, before giggling dorkily at the silliness of their statement, commenting that it'd we way too obvious they were faking if they acted that snooty. they're a theatre kid at heart, so the idea of "playing the villain" is exciting! it's going to be so fun!

but their second confession is sombre. they're visibly tired, wiping away at the concealer under their eyes to reveal some heavy bags, and they're curled up into a pitiful ball in front of the camera. they divulge that the pressure to constantly live up to the shows expectations of antagonism is crushing, and their status as a social pariah is more draining than they'd care to admit, and that- despite the apparent glee they've been committing these acts of villainy with- being so outwardly morally corrupt has left them with a constant churning of guilt in their gut. they only agreed to be the "bad guy" for the money, which would help their family's financial situation tremendously, but they're growing increasingly uncertain if the reward justifies the risks.

by the third confession, they're actively sickened by their actions, eventually devolving from airing their frustrations, lamenting their choice to method act as such an awful person, to throwing up into the confessional's toilet as they hold back guilt-leaden tears and repeat a mantra of "i'm sorry, i'm sorry,". they're drowning in the murky waters of their persona, and backing out now would only lead to more scrutiny and suspicion from the people who were supposed to be their friends, and they know they'd deserve the mistrust. plus, backtracking from their deal with chris would jeopardise everything- from the dirty money they've earned from their antagonism to their place in the competition itself; they'd be voted out in a heartbeat without the network's safety blanket of plot armour!

they don't know what to do. they barely even know who they are anymore.

and then the camera's focus cuts to the real-time them, who's sat ashen-faced and deathly still as their weakest moments are broadcast, not only to the people who rightfully hate them, but to the whole world.

[dirtytransmasc]

self indulgent got concept.

Ned brings Jon home, Cat hates the boy, everything stays the same... until Robert Baratheon is charging through the halls of Winterfell looking for the babe, ready to butcher the poor thing where he lay helpless in his cradle.

in a matter of moments Catelyn learns three things:

The babe was never a bastard, Ned had only lied to her to protect Jon, and that she would die before she let Robert lay a finger on the babe she'd previously wished death upon.

cue Catelyn Stark snatching Jon from his cradle, holding him, protecting him, loving him as she would her own son, risking it all to keep him safe, all care for herself thrown to the wind.

like they say, what a mother's love holds no bounds, and what it makes her capable of had no limits.

[fangirlwithasweettooth]

Me? Going absolutely insane over every single Kanej moment in both the books and the series? It’s more likely than you think

[bigfishthemusical]

The thing about pants is that they are literally 3000 times easier and faster to see than a button up type shirt until you get to the fly and then you just have to turn to dust and give up to go make another button up shirt instead

[dandyshucks-moving]

there's this one photo I've seen floating around a few times with the words "I wish we could've met as kids, you would've loved the softer me" and I think about it every now and then

so ... art ʅ(๑ ᷄ω ᷅ )ʃ

[crepusculum-rattus]

fellas is it bad to Not tell your homie that you might not be around for much longer in reply

[prossims]

The Landgraabs

Charlotte’s mood wasn’t much better this morning either. She woke up feeling incredibly ill. This is exactly what she was afraid of. The pregnancy was going to ruin her body in so many ways! There is no way Malcolm could convince her to make peace with this anymore. Charlotte knows she can never accept the pregnancy as a good thing.

However, her sugar cravings from last night had culled a little bit. She wanted to take advantage of it and cook herself a healthy breakfast - which - turned into a nightmare. With her astonishment, the stove caught on fire while she was standing exactly next to it. She ran away in absolute horror and stood there, screaming, watching the fire spread.

The fire alarm caught the attention of the fire department soon though. Two firemen rushed through the door even before Malcolm made it into the kitchen. Not before the stove and a counter nearby were completely burnt though.

Beginning | Next

[sysig]

Collective consciousness (Patreon)

[thinkingabout-girls]

i’m like if a guy had no idea how to process or express emotions

[harvestmoth]

Lo. Love your Rejuv art. Just wanted to ask if you have more ideas for the au where nothing goes wrong (lie) for Pokémon Rejuvenation.

thank you!! and im sorry to say i do not! im very bad at coming up with ideas but i would love to hear others ideas on anything, though i will say when i started posting about it i had a brief thought of flora, florin, and talon taking melia and the protag with them to terajuma when they cheak out the tyluric temple as like a way for them to. get to terajuma. but idk how well thatd work out continuity wise. or what the whole terajuma arc would be like because of it