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I'm sitting here just a taaaaad worried considering every time we've had an event (tm) happen during a show suddenly there's a fictive from the media and I cannot with the fact that we've spawned Elle Woods, Anya, Glen Vaganov Russian dictator, and a depressed man from the Rocky's. WE CANNOT DO UT AGAINNN

-🦠🃏☄️

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favorite pokemon

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Let's go weird Scarborough residents!

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Fffiigighfishgiyfisghhhhhhhhh imissfishy bficb I want my frig back '((((((

Made a wallpaper for my new phone~

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Breaking News: Local Privileged White Man Realizes He Is Not Invincible

First of all: do not accuse me of trying to woobify Louis I BEG I know he is a BAD PERSON! But I also think he is an interesting character, especially because "villain who knows they've been outsmarted and outplayed by a greater villain and knows said greater villain is going to kill them" is one of my favorite tropes, and that is exactly what was happening to Leroux during Airport, which is my favorite district of The Conspiracy.

Second of all: We know that Leroux was panicking and knew he was in danger before he exploded and died in his prison cell, and that all tied back to him breaking into the dome controlled by SARA and Denise's secret lab, finding out about the neohumans, her betrayal of Ad Astra, etc, and her blocking him from sending that message to his co conspirators. I theorize/headcanon that before he died, she enjoyed psychologically tormenting him by sending him death threats and the like in the days leading up to his arrest and death, considering she knew about his break in as early as the end of the first case in Airport, leading Louis to start to absolutely panic, knowing his days were numbered and he knew she knew he knew. My favorite one of these headcanons is the idea that, like how he snuck a camera into Zoe's room to spy on her and her powers, someone snuck a camera into his apartment to spy on him and mess with him. Karma!

And finally, since they're kinda hard to read (forgive my poor handwriting), here are the threats on the floor:

"Did you enjoy your lunch at Rubio's with your coworkers on Monday? Did you enjoy your talk with the CCN secretary as you left work at 9:30?"

"Where's your chipper reporter smile? :( " (written over footage of him in his apartment)

"CCN is saddened to report on the gruesome murder of its reporter, Louis Leroux. As a nosy journalist...His tongue and hands had been removed, cut off as Leroux was still alive...won't be looking into any business not his own...died in ....and misery."

"Have you decided on your last words? Or will you merely scream?" (on the phone)

Thank you, Carla, for helping me with this and letting me bounce ideas off of you!

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simplyplural status inspo !! ^_^

feel free to use this as inspo for your own simplyplurals :D also if there’s any other statuses we should use pls tell us

our simplyplural is thecreepycrawlers if you wanna follow us

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“you should get some rest, kid.” [ lean ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder

Oscar Delancey + Morris Delancey ;; Set after the fight at Newsie Square ;; Morris is older than Osc by about a year ;; @delancey-asks

Bloody knuckles. Jesus fuck did they hurt. Oscar sat with his back against the bed he'd been in ever since he was a young kid that was dropped off at his uncle's terrible place. He was looking at it with one eye, the other being a black eye and difficult to open without hissing out in some sort of pain. He remained silent, staring straight at the ground between his two feet, his boots being off and his mind remaining at it's quickened pace. The next time he'd get his hands on Jack, it wouldn't be a pretty sight, yet a much more bloodied one. He'd murder Jack if he could.

He had to get away from that stupid fight no matter what. He just had to. He didn’t leave Morris behind, but he did run when the bulls had bega to officially show up. Himself and his older brother didn’t have any good connections with the law, especially when the two were younger, right before their teenage years leading up to where they were now. A low sigh and huff would escape the younger boy, his eyes closing eventually. He was processing it all. How himself and his brother had managed to not kick the ass of any of the newsies. Well, they sure as hell had gotten some of them. The blonde, Race, they got him. At least he knew his brother did. 

Speaking of his brother, the sound of someone pushing open the door was something that didn’t even make Oscar lift his head. Just the pure born silence was it. There was the remaining silence before the younger had noticed Morris sit beside him. “...your knuckles are bleeding, stupid.” Morris’s voice would ring through the cold air, the feeling of the older boys calloused fingers taking a hold of his hands. “I’m fine, Morris. I always am.” The younger's voice was partially cold, shaking his head right after. He knew he wasn’t fine. But Oscar despised help sometimes. Let alone from the man he idolized. He idolized Morris. The boy who would protect him from all harm and everything of the sort. 

“No, you ain’t, Oscar.” The older would speak against the younger's protests, letting go of the shorter boy's hands. He had pulled the shorter up, not as forceful as he would to a newsie. Morris would be much more forceful and harsh with those stupid kids. Sure, he was a year or so younger, but the violence he held in the back of his mind always remained when it came to the newsies. If he had the chance, they’d all be stuck in that stupid refuge. At least one of them was though. The one with the limp. Though as he pulled his brother along, of course, Oscar would protest. “Morris, I can take care of myself-!” He’d complain, trying to get out of his older brother's hold.

Yet the attempt didn’t work in Oscar’s favor, as he was eventually tugged to the bathroom. “Sit.” Morris would grumble under his breath, yet it was still audible to the younger boy. Oscar didn’t exactly have a choice as he sat on the edge of the bath, looking down at his knuckles. They were aching like a bitch, that was something he wouldn’t hesitate to admit at all. “You gotta’ be more careful, Osc.” Morris would start to speak, searching for bandages in the mirror’s cabinets. “You shoulda’ let me handle the tougher and older ones.” He’d continue, taking out bandages from the cabinet. “Didn’t want you getting hurt.. Took them for you.” The younger one commented from the bathtub’s edge. 

“Oscar. We’ve been brothers our whole life. I’ve been taking the hits for you since dad started to drink. You realize I’d risk my life for you to be safe, yeah?” Morris questioned as he gently took the younger boys hands again, gently tugging him once more. “Ow-.. Careful, stupid.” Oscar grumbled, hissing out in pain slightly at sudden movements close to where his knuckles had been. He’d hear his brother muter a quick sorry, before the sound of water had been all he could hear. “Wash your hands.” Morris would speak up, moving out of Oscar’s way, who only held a confused look. “It’ll hurt.” The younger grumbled, earning an eye roll. “Yeah, I know it will. But it’ll help clean the debris out of the wound.” 

Even if Oscar didn’t want to hiss out in pain constantly, he listened to his older brother's suggestion, cleaning his hands thoroughly with soap and water, hissing out in pain every couple seconds or so. “Fucking-” Oscar would hiss out, going to move his hands away from the sink. The soap didn’t help at all, it was KILLING him to do this. “Couple more seconds, Osc. Then after the bleeding stops, rinse em.” His older brother would explain calmly, leaning against the wall just besides the door. He was making sure his brother was okay, something his father and uncle couldn’t even do. Now that Morris thought about it, the two had nobody that cared about each other. Nobody but theirselves.

“We got tweezers or anythin, Mor?” Oscar would ask as the taller boy had gotten a soft feeling cloth, knowing how the scratchy and uncomfortable feeling ones would annoy the younger boy. “Yeah, yeah. Just- let me do this real quick, okay? Then I’ll get everything else out and wrap it up. Got some stuff to put onto it too.” Morris would explain, focusing his attention on what he’d been doing, gently cleaning the skin around his brothers now sliiightly less bloodied knuckles. Of course, Oscar would hiss out in pain and let out curses of who knows what, but Morris didn’t stop him. “There ya go, let ‘em all out, Osc. I ain’t gonna stop ya.” Morris would mutter aloud to his brother, who continued on with the cursing before being gently pushed down back onto the edge of the bathtub. 

Morris would grow quiet as he eventually would search for the tweezers, searching the same place the bandages were in. “Alright, you trust me enough to do the whole tweezer thing?” He questioned the younger, earning the slow nod from Oscar before he’d take Oscar’s hand into his, beginning to get to work taking out dirt and everything of the sort out of his brothers knuckles. “Ow, ow, ow-! Jesus, fuck!” Oscar complained, hissing out in pain every once and a while. Morris wouldn’t reply, allowing the other to squeeze his wrist or arm. It was a little bit before the older brother would talk once more, standing to his feet. “There we go. Dump it in the trash. I got to put the ointment and the bandages on, okay?” He didn’t want to hurt his younger brother any more than he already had been. 

“. . . Yeah. Got it. Just be careful. Shit hurts enough.” Oscar’s tone had grown slightly harsh, but he didn’t mean to. He was tired, getting frustrated and in pain. “Ain’t gotta tell me twice.” Morris would respond to his brother's harsh tone, his eyes rolling slightly. He’d been used to harsh tones almost all his life, just letting it happen. It’s not like they were going to fight, both boys were too tired for it. “Here, hold the bandages.” Morris would hum, beginning to put the ointment onto his brother's hands whilst humming a tune their mother would sing to either of them before they’d fall asleep. Morris remembered it more than Oscar had most of the time. Though a comment from the younger made a small smile form on Morris’s face. “You’re singing mom’s song..”

Morris would merely hum in response to his brother's comment, continuing to hum the tune as he carefully put the ointment onto his brother's knuckles, which merely led to more hisses of pain. “You’re okay, Osc. Just gotta bandage them now.” His voice remained soft, Morris not daring to get all snappy at his brother. He took the bandages from the shorter and younger, beginning to wrap the gauze bandages around the now cleaner wounds. “Here we go… just…” Morris spoke to himself whilst fixing the bandages, eventually moving the bandages away and going back to the cabinet. “Go get changed, Osc. I know we both need sleep.” He mumbled out to the younger now, who merely nodded his head and headed towards the two’s shared room.

It took Morris a while to come out of the bathroom and to relax on the bed his brother had sat back on. He held a calm expression, tired. He knew he’d have to take care of his younger brother, but he’d do anything for the kid. Morris closed his eyes, just for a quick second, but he felt something hit his shoulder. Opening his right eye, he noticed his younger brother leaning his head against the oldest shoulder. “...you should get some rest, kid.” He’d comment softly, wrapping his arm around his baby brother's shoulder, who only hummed a noise of protest in response. “...that’s what I’m trying to do, dumbass..” Oscar would grumble out in response, keeping his eyes closed. Morris would hum out, nodding his head slightly, remaining still so his brother could sleep. “Alright, alright… love ya, Osc..” He didn’t often say that, but he did notice that a smile seemed to form onto his brother’s face. “Love you too, Mor. “ 

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recreation of the omori sketchbook i did earlier this year (last 3 drawings were made up by me)

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My thoughts will follow you into your NINTENDO 64.

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Albert: ‘They’ll never find the body’ is such a boring threat, a better threat would be ‘they’ll never stop finding the body’

Crutchie, bored: Or just say ‘they’ll be finding parts of you for at least 4 months, and you’ll still be alive for 3 of them’

Race: Now that’s a threat!

Davey, covering Les’s ears: *horrified silence*

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I can't do this I'm going to (remembers suicide jokes have negative consequences on mental health) make a post that does the thing where a suicide joke is interrupted and replaced with something wacky and unexpected . And subvert the punchline in an avant-garde self-aware meta manner to reflect my curious and intellectual soul

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when i dig up f scott fitzgerald he better have some fucking answers

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It’s always a fucking trip to see a sturgeon next to someone, because on their own they just look like fish, but when there’s a guy there you see how fucking big they are