#anyway PLS SEND ME MORE ASKS

[hihiimmimi]

Good artstyle have a gunsil

*GASP* Thank you for the gunsil :DD

[kittycatcorner]

shows up to give you the coffinchain challenge

Please be more careful when you cross the road You’re a perfect arrangement of rickety bones

Stray cats.

Peter had always likened the apprentices to a group of stray cats, in his mind.

At first it was out of distaste. They were a nuisance; a band of drifters slinking around the alleyways, catching their quarries unaware. The quick, sharp jab of a hypodermic needle might as well have been the efficient killing bite that a cat might deliver to the throat of its prey. They worked in the shadows, occupying all of those lonely abandoned buildings and reworking them for a new, twisted purpose. 

Then, begrudgingly, he’d found himself wrapped up in Mark Hoffman. Chasing him, hunting him, hellbent on bringing him to justice, then on killing him, then on understanding him, then…

Well, Peter didn’t know what he was doing now. 

All he knew was that sitting in his apartment, in varying states of composure, were three of Jigsaw’s disciples. 

Dr. Gordon sat on his couch, eyes trained down as his hands worked on bandaging a fresh wound on the arm of his younger accomplice. Stanheight sat quietly and allowed for the medical attention with little fight. Hoffman himself sat on the floor, back leaned against the couch close to the other two. 

Peter remained standing, trying not to buckle at the absurdity of his situation. In true stray-animal nature, he had made the mistake of allowing Hoffman into his home once, twice, thrice, and now he’d come back with friends. 

‘Don’t feed the strays’, indeed. 

Accept that he did know the other two, at this point. The polite Dr. Gordon was well-spoken and direct; Peter had found him infuriating in the beginning. He was a hard man to interrogate and an even harder man to intimidate, as level and unflinching as he was. Unlike Peter, he never seemed to let his anger get the best of him, and he seemed to know that. Dr. Gordon was a man who always seemed very aware of how much more control he had in the conversation. It was enviable. 

Then there was Adam Faulkner-Stanheight. Mouthful of a name. It was strange enough for Peter to wrap his head around the fact that the kid was alive, let alone working with Jigsaw. He was angry- had more rage in his scrawny little body than what felt possible. Stupid and impulsive, Peter had found him annoying. Just a petulant adolescent who had gotten himself into bigger trouble than he yet realized. 

They’ve come a long way since then. Both apprentices had grown on him, maybe because they reminded him of himself in their amalgamate qualities. The cold, callous bluntness of the doctor. The white-hot temper of the kid. The way he had never seen the former so gentle nor the latter so complacent until now, as they patched themselves together on his bloodied furniture. 

Peter had been reluctant to welcome them all inside. It was bad enough to shelter one serial killer, but now three? It reminded him that everything he’s been doing as of late is against what he once stood for. Fuck, it would solve a hell of a lot of his own problems if he didn't care. If he’d let them all rot, make them regret thinking that Peter would risk his own hide just because he's been friendly with them. Dr. Gordon and Stanheight had seemed to understand this too. Their expressions had been apprehensive, looking ready to flee like the animals they were. Peter wonders how long ago he would have given chase. 

Hoffman had spoken, then. 

“I didn’t-” His voice was shot and exhausted. “I didn’t know where else to go, Strahm.” 

And just like that, Peter took them in. Those words were all it took. Hoffman limped inside on a bad leg and described some sort of police-raid, premature. John Kramer and Amanda Young hadn’t even been there, so it had just been the trio, and they were forced to flee. Unable to go far on foot in their current state, Hoffman had brought his injured companions here. To Peter. 

Why did that make something strange stir within him? 

The three of them were soaked to the bone from the rain. Peter watched Hoffman sluggishly attempt to remain alert, but every so often his head would lull and come to rest against the soft thigh of Dr. Gordon. If the doctor noticed it, he didn't say a word as he continued to diligently work. He looked tired. Stanheight was putting on the best brave face he could manage, but Peter’s keen eyes caught his shoulders trembling, only eased when Gordon’s hand came to rest on one and rubbed gently. They all looked so tired. 

Unable to watch any longer, Peter finally broke the silence. 

“So why are you still doing this?” It took everything in him to not fidget idly as he spoke, brows furrowed at the three men. 

All eyes were on him quite suddenly, sharp as they regarded him. Three clever pairs of observant eyes that all screamed out ‘I know more than I’m letting on' to Peter. He held their gazes, muscled arms crossed over his chest. 

“You know what I’m talking about.” He scoffed, lip curling. “What’s the point of doing the old man's dirty work when he just lets things like this happen to you?” 

Silence.

Hoffman broke first. He laughed, eyes closing as he rested more fully against the couch. It was good-natured but ultimately dismissive. 

Dr. Gordon frowned at Peter, one brow quirked as if he had asked them something incredibly naive. Like he expected Peter to know already. 

Stanheight didn't react. Not outwardly, anyways. He only stared, something new and strange glittering in his eyes that Peter couldn't place.

“What,” Peter grit his teeth, an edge to his voice. Less of a question and more of a prompt. 

“Nothing, nothing. Apologies, Mr. Strahm.” Gordon sighed, turning his attention back to his handiwork. He appeared to nearly be done with the worst of Stanheight’s injuries now. “It’s just… not that simple.”

“Not exactly the kinda job you can put your two weeks in for.” Hoffman corroborated, a smirk tugging at his full lips. 

Peter felt his face burn hot, and he huffed in frustration. “You fucking- Don’t play dumb. Don’t act like it’s a stupid question. I’ll throw you back out onto the fucking curb.” He jabbed a finger at Hoffman in particular, who for his part did indeed shut his mouth. “You listening? Good. What I’m saying is that John Kramer is one demented old man. What is actually stopping you?” 

This time, the quiet was punctuated by Hoffman and Gordon exchanging an uncomfortable glance. After a moment, Hoffman shrugged and ran one hand through his damp, messy hair. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of, uh, checks ‘n balances.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow skeptically. Hoffman continued. 

“Information is power, etcetera. Kramer keeps basically everything on a need-to-know basis. Including, I dunno, who you’re workin’ with half the time. Hell,” He rolled his eyes, and lazily raised a hand behind his head to pat Gordon’s arm. The doctor made an annoyed noise in response, shifting away from him. “He only told me about these lovebirds when he needed help lookin’ after ‘em.” 

“I’m still mad about missing out on a trip to Mexico.” Stanheight quipped. His voice was softer than normal, but Peter supposed it was a good sign that he was speaking at all. He wasn’t used to the younger man being so quiet. 

Gordon straightened up a moment later, gently patting down the new bandages and brushing some of the hair from Stanheight’s face. “There you go.” He sighed. The warmth in his tone was so palpable that Peter had the distinct feeling it wasn’t meant for his ears. Despite being in his own apartment, he somehow felt he was intruding. “Get comfortable, alright?” 

Peter watched as Stanheight pulled himself to his feet, stopping short just a little ways away from him with an awkward shuffle. Gordon patted his thigh and spoke his next words like they took all of his energy to say. 

“Your turn.” He didn’t even bother to look at Hoffman. The detective grinned anyways, wasting no time in clamoring up into Gordon’s personal space and slinging his leg across the man’s lap. Gordon shook his head disdainfully, but carefully began rolling back Hoffman’s torn pant leg anyways. 

Peter guessed he wasn’t the only one that Hoffman lived to irritate.

“Christ, Mark.” Gordon sucked in a sharp breath, and Peter’s shoulders stiffened as he took a step forward to look. His stomach sank despite himself; from where he was standing Hoffman’s calf looked like a bloody mess. Peter’s a man who’s seen more gore in his line of work than anyone should hope to see in their lifetime, and yet here he is, staring in alarm. It was unlike him, and woefully he could only attribute his own uneasiness to the owner of the calf. 

As if he could read his mind, Hoffman looked up towards Peter. “Hey, it’s just-” He winced, hissing in pain as Gordon began to clean the wound. “It’s no big deal- no bullet inside. Just grazed me.” 

“You were shot?” Peter balked.

“Grazed,” Hoffman corrected. 

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose in a quick-rising frustration. Hoffman was impossible. 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Gordon’s voice was little more than a growl as he spoke through gritted teeth. “You took an unnecessary risk. Do you think I enjoy patching you back together? Honestly, if I didn't know any better I’d assume you were trying to get your sorry self killed.” 

Dr. Gordon’s tone left the detective bristling. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” He scoffed. “Hell, I don’t bother you when you’re workin’ in the sickbay. Why don't you just- fuck!” 

Hoffman yelped at the unceremonious splash of disinfectant. Gordon gave him the sort of well-practiced fake smile that only a doctor could.

“My bad,” he murmured, unapologetic. 

Peter decided he’d seen enough. He turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen, telling himself that he was just stepping aside to get ice in case the doctor needed some. He knew it wasn't the truth, though; he scolded himself quietly as he leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his graying hair. 

The truth was that he couldn't keep standing there, staring at Hoffman’s leg injury. 

It’s ironic, because it feels like not too long ago that Peter would have done anything to put a bullet in Hoffman. Now the thought makes him feel… queasy. And a bit confused. 

Peter found himself comparing the apprentices to strays again.

He couldn’t get the image of roadkill splattered on the side of the highway out of his head. 

From what he knew of John Kramer and his cult, the apprentices were expendable parts. It doesn't even sound like they can trust each other half the time. One wrong move or fatal mistake would be all it took. Peter wasn't even sure how long it would take him to know something had happened. 

His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps so quiet that he knew exactly who they belonged to before turning around. Stanheight stood at the entryway of his bare-bones kitchen, watching him. He’s probably spent the least amount of time alone with him. 

“What is it?” Peter’s frown deepened.

The kid didn't answer immediately, instead coming to lean against the wall beside him. He was quiet for a moment, and then shrugged. 

“Wanted to check on you, I guess.” He answered simply. 

“Check on me? In what way do I need checking on?” Raising a brow, Peter gestured towards the living room. “Look at you three, for fuck’s sake.” 

Stanheight held his hands up defensively. “Hey, hey, I just- I get it, alright?”

Peter didn't know what that meant. He stared down at the shorter man, scowl ever-present, silently prodding him to elaborate. Stanheight’s expression was… almost sympathetic, but his eyes had that same strange look from before: the one that Peter couldn't place. 

The kid was easy to underestimate, Peter knew it from his file and from his current involvement. He wasn't about to make that mistake with him. 

“Sucks, doesn't it?” Stanheight finally said. He was muttering now, glancing once over his shoulder to ensure they were still alone. “One thing to know what they're doing and another to see them come back with blood and bits of their skin hanging off.”

Peter felt his stomach turn. “No,” he lied. “If Hoffman’s gonna be reckless and get himself killed then so be it.” 

“No matter what you or anyone else thinks, I’m not stupid.” Stanheight laughed dryly. “You don't gotta lie to me, okay? I’m on team Peter here.” 

“Are we forgetting that you’re one of ‘them’ too?” Peter steeled his gaze, unamused. 

Stanheight grimaced. “I mean- kind of. Not really.”

“‘Not really?’ What’s that mean?” 

“I- like- like I’m with them but I’m not one of them. Old Johnny-boy has never and will never give a shit about me. Not exactly in the running to be his heir or whatever the others think will happen.” Stanheight huffed, rolling his eyes as he explained. “Pretty sure he wouldn't even notice if I went missing if it weren't for the pictures ‘n schedules I go and get for him.”

Peter is quiet for a moment. 

“Why stick around?” He asked softly, already knowing the answer. 

The kid just snorted in lieu of answering, and the two fell into silence once more for a couple of seconds. 

“Glad that Mark has you.” Stanheight suddenly murmured, thoughtful. 

“He does not ‘have me’.” 

“Maybe you can knock some sense into him.” 

Peter scoffed, looking elsewhere. “You’re frustrating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Stanheight laughed, “I’m not kidding, though. It always freaks me out how Mark gets when he’s like…” 

Raising a brow, Peter waited for him to sort out his thoughts. 

“Like, when he gets hurt, right? He just- just runs off. Or he’ll go and get hammered on the other side of town and when we find him he’s a mess.” 

At that, Peter’s shoulders went rigid. He was aware of Mark’s habits, his unhealthy coping mechanism. He hadn't thought about who else might know, how deeply it might run. He hadn't thought about how often Mark must be alone. 

When he looked back at Stanheight, he realized the kid was staring at him intently. There was concern in his expression, but also something fierce. 

“John’s really messed him up. Worse than he was before all of this.” His voice was low, almost cautious. “All of them. Lawrence, Mark, Mandy, none of them deserve this. You know that, right?”

Peter’s mouth felt dry. “I…” 

Straightening up again, Stanheight stepped closer to Peter. Before he could see it coming, a smaller hand took his own and held it, inspecting it. “I think Mark needs you.” He said, “maybe all of us do. So you gotta take care of yourself too.” 

Something confused seemed to bloom in his chest then, an uncertain warmth that he could feel rise up to his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he couldn't decide on anything to say. 

“Just think about it, ‘kay?” Stanheight let go of his hand again and started to leave the kitchen, pausing for just a moment to look back at him. “Oh, one more thing.” 

“What is it?” Peter’s voice was hoarse. 

Stanheight gave him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. “Welcome to the family.” 

Then he was gone, Peter’s protest to that statement dying on his lips, and Peter was left to think on everything he said. 

Hoffman needing him. Hoffman hiding himself away in dark corners to nurse his wounds. Improperly set bones and too much bandage. 

Stray cats.

Peter’s family used to have cats. His sister’s cat had been an old, white, raggedy thing that she named Alfredo. When Alfredo passed away, he had hidden under the bed and refused to come out. Peter thinks he remembers reading somewhere that pets do that on purpose, so their humans don't have to see them die, but it's been years and his animal knowledge is limited. 

Peter wondered how hard it is to socialize a stray cat. To reintroduce it to domesticity. 

He stepped out of the kitchen, lingering at the entryway, and watched the apprentices from where he stood. Gordon seemed to have finished with Hoffman’s leg, speaking to him in a quieter tone than before. To his surprise, Hoffman looked like he was listening. Stanheight was on the couch with them now, leaning his head onto Gordon’s shoulder. 

Peter found that he wished he could freeze this moment with the three of them in it. The bubble of safety that was his living room felt far away from everything Jigsaw. Maybe they were always meant to be here, on soft furniture, and not crouching amongst rusted pipes and jagged metal. 

Tamed. Domesticated. 

He sighed through his nose and walked around the couch, three sets of clever eyes on him again as he caught their attention. Now that he was there, he could see that Dr. Gordon had just begun to wrap up Hoffman’s leg and he silently motioned to ask for the gauze, kneeling down between them.

Understanding the gesture, Gordon handed it over, smiling at Peter warmly enough to raise his body temperature by a degree. 

“Strahm-” Hoffman started, bewildered, but Peter simply began wrapping his leg neatly. 

“Shut up.” He grunted. “Let me help you, stupid.”

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the new ask game

"If I have to force you I will"

Brudick

send a ship and a quote and i'll write a a short fic!

this is so inspired, anon. here's 2.7k of BruDick whump. warning for non-con somnophilia, but it's very brief. the whole fic is very non-con/dead dove in nature tho. this takes place during Jason's Robin era. enjoy <3

Dick could feel Bruce’s eyes on him from across the room, even without looking. He made a point not to look. Instead, Dick focused on helping Jason set his dislocated shoulder.

“How does that feel?” Dick asked. He pressed his fingers against the bone, just to double check for any breaks.

“I’m fine,” Jason insisted. He hopped off the medical gurney and pulled away from Dick’s touch. An immediate wince came out of Jason when his feet hit the ground. His ankle was at best, swollen. At worst, sprained.

With how hard Killer Croc threw Jason into that brick wall, he was lucky to walk away with a dislocated shoulder and sprained ankle. Dick still couldn’t get the noise of Jason’s small body slamming against the hard brick and the noise he’d made when he fell to the ground.

“You should take a couple weeks off patrol at least,” Dick said, putting away the leftover bandages. “To let it heal.”

Jason made a face at Dick, his mouth screwing up like he’d eaten something sour. “I said I was fine!” He didn't look fine. He was pale and a little sweaty from the pain. “Right, B?” Going right above Dick's head, Jason turned to Bruce with an expectant look.

Dick finally let himself look at Bruce. He levelled Bruce with a deadly glare. Now though, Bruce was the one avoiding his gaze.

“We’ll talk about it later, chum.” Bruce walked over to them and ruffled Jason’s head with disgusting affection that made Dick’s lip curl.

He had nothing against Jason. But he damn well knew Bruce was doing it to get a rise out of Dick. The worst part, it was working remarkably well.

“Get to bed now,” Bruce said, patting Jason’s good shoulder.

Jason gave a nod that was a little too serious, like he was facing a war general giving an order. Given who he was talking to, Dick supposed it wasn't far off. Jason ran off to the stairs, almost managing to hide his limp. Dick watched him disappear up the steps.

He was a good kid.

Too good for this life.

“That could've gotten him killed.” Dick didn't look in Bruce’s direction, but there was no one else in the cave he could've been talking to. No one else on the planet Dick would speak to with such an icy tone.

“You would've stuck that landing at his age,” Bruce said coolly, pointedly avoiding the hostility bleeding from Dick.

Dick whipped his head around. “I had more training at his age.” So many insults sat on Dick’s tongue. He managed to swallow all of them without choking. “Take better care of Jason.” With that, Dick turned on his heel and walked toward where his motorcycle was parked in the bay of the cave.

“Where are you going?” Bruce asked. Like he had any right to know.

“Home,” Dick snapped. He wanted his bed and shitty take out from the only place in Bludhaven open this late.

“This is your home.”

Dick’s hand curled into a fist, itching to hit Bruce. He wouldn't stoop that low. “Not since you kicked me out, it isn't.”

“You still have a place here.” Bruce’s voice was as even and emotionless as it always was. He could've been talking about the weather.

Emotions were weakness to Bruce. And there was a time Dick naively believed Bruce trusted him enough to share that weakness with Dick.

What a joke that was.

“No, I don't,” Dick spoke through grit teeth. He just needed to keep walking to his bike and leave Bruce and his rotting city behind.

“Then why are you even here?”

Dick spun around fast enough to make his hair fall over his face. He really should cut it, but he liked the length. Bruce had always made him keep it short. For practicality. Now, letting it grow just past his shoulders, Dick’s hair was one of the few pieces of self expression he had.

“Because I made a promise to Jason,” Dick’s words dripped with all the anger he could muster, looking into Bruce’s cold blue eyes. “I would be there if he called. Unlike you, I keep promises.” It was a cold insult that hit below the belt.

“You think I couldn't have handled Croc?” Bruce arched an eyebrow. He was trying to back Dick into a corner and Dick knew it. Drag some kind of confession out of Dick that he'd come to see Bruce for some hopeless romantic reason.

Bruce could keep hoping. Dick was there for Jason and nothing more.

“Clearly you couldn't,” Dick pointed out. “Jason got hurt.”

For the briefest second, real emotion flashed across Bruce's eyes. It was something, at least. A small proof he really did care about Jason.

“He just wanted to see you.” Bruce regained his composure. “He looks up to you. He's been talking about training with you.”

Dick shook his head with a cold laugh. “I’m not falling for that. If he wants to train, he can come to me. Don't use him to get to me.” He gave Bruce a final warning look before turning back around.

“Stay.”

“No.” Dick didn't look back. His bike was within arm’s reach when a hand grabbed his arm.

“Dick,” Bruce was trying to sound soft. The command in his voice ruined the illusion of kindness.

“Don’t.” No matter how much Dick knew Bruce’s kindness was a ruse, he couldn't stop himself from mirroring it. The anger left his tone and was replaced by something softer. “It’s late and I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Call in,” Bruce said. Easy for him to say with his billionaire pockets.

Dick shook his head. He tried to pull his arm free. “This isn't happening again. It's especially not happening now.” Jason’s face flashed across Dick’s mind. In Dick’s Robin suit.

That betrayal was still a raw wound.

“Dick, I…” Bruce trailed off. “I'm sorry for how I- for how things happened.” Just as he almost took accountability, he skirted past it. A vague, half-assed apology that wasn't going to fix anything now.

“You should've said that and a hell of a lot more over a year ago,” Dick just shook his head. He tugged his arm harder. Bruce’s grip was a vice.

“Please stay.” Despite the words, it sounded like an order, not a request. Bruce’s brow hardened.

“Bruce,” Dick said, setting his jaw. “Let go.”

Bruce raised a hand and for a second, Dick almost flinched, expecting to be hit. Instead, Bruce's fingers hovered in the air before cupping Dick’s face. He was still wearing his suit, but Dick could feel the gentle body heat through the glove. He gasped.

A thumb stroked Dick’s cheek. And for a part of him, it was hard not to give in to. There was comfort in the familiarity. How easily Bruce slotted back into a role he used to perfectly fill in Dick’s life.

Dick didn't need Bruce in that role, though. And he definitely didn't want him there.

“Just the night,” Bruce offered, still stroking with his thumb. “I’ll order from the Chinese place you like.”

“I said no.” Dick took a half a step back.

The gentle, loving hand holding Dick’s face shifted to a brutally possessive grip without warning. Bruce held Dick by his jaw, fingers digging in enough to make Dick hiss.

“If I have to force, you I will.” It was dangerous, how matter-of-factly Bruce said it. No violence or threatening nature to the statement. Just a plain coldness.

Dick flinched. His full body recoiled.

“Are you out of your mind?” Dick hissed.

Bruce has been rough with Dick, before. But only when Dick asked for it.

Never like this.

The only thing Bruce had ever forced Dick to do was leave. At the time, it had been the worst thing Bruce ever did to Dick.

This was worse, now.

“You can't force me to do anything,” Dick said when Bruce didn't answer. He just started at Dick with those empty eyes. “I’m not under your thumb anymore.”

“I want to know you're safe,” Bruce spoke so calmly, like he wasn't trying to force Dick to stay against his will. Like he was practically doing Dick a favor. “Someone needs to look out for you and make sure you're taking care of yourself.”

“I have people,” Dick said, and it wasn't a lie. He had the Titans, his friends and coworkers in Bludhaven. “I don't need you. I never did, Bruce. You never understood that.” Dick’s heart was beating too fast in his chest. Bruce had to be bluffing. Trying to fake Dick out or something.

The grip on his jaw was going to bruise if Bruce kept it up.

“I need you, though,” Bruce’s voice was low and quiet. “That's what I was wrong about when I kicked you out. I thought…” he didn't finish the sentence. He just shook his head once. “I didn't know how much I needed you. And I need you now, Dick.”

Dick leaned in close to Bruce’s face. “I don't care what you need.” He pulled back and twisted his head away to wrench it from Bruce’s grip. A single well aimed strike to Bruce’s inner wrist forced his hand to open, letting go of Dick’s arm.

For a second, Dick was free.

It was a short second.

Dick didn't have time to step back. He didn't have time to think before Bruce lunged.

It was a brutal and effective pin. One that Dick had always struggled to get out of during training. Bruce grabbed Dick’s wrist and twisted him around, forcing him to his knees. Bruce’s own knee pinned Dick down, pressed between his shoulder blades while Dick’s arm was held at a painful angle.

He had one arm free. But it was difficult to grab Bruce from where he was standing. The shock of being pinned in the first place slowed his reaction.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Dick gasped. He reached back to grab an escrima stick. If Bruce wanted a fight, Dick would give him one.

His hand was stopped before he could reach the weapon. Bruce just grabbed that wrist too and hauled Dick back up to his feet like he weighed nothing. He pinned Dick against his own body, Dick’s arm painfully trapped between the two of them.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” Bruce said into Dick’s ear. His breath was warm on Dick’s skin in a sickly way. “Stay with me for the night.”

Instead of answering with words, Dick lifted his foot and kicked Bruce as hard as he could in the shin. Bruce stumbled and Dick dropped into a crouch, ready to flip Bruce off of him.

Before he could, something sharp pinched against his neck and Dick gasped.

The psychotic bastard.

His body slumped, weightless in Bruce’s arms that shifted to cradle Dick. Gently, like a lover.

Then, Dick slipped away.

Once he was drugged, it was easy to pull compliance out of Dick.

Bruce just had to carry him up the stairs and into Bruce’s bedroom. He carefully stripped both of their suits, laying them out for Alfred to wash in the morning.

Dick wasn't quite unconscious.

But he was groaning and sluggish, unable to hold his eyes open or form real words. When Bruce touched him, his body yielded and gave in so sweetly.

The way he was supposed to give in to Bruce.

Dick wouldn't remember any of it when it woke up. But his body would.

His body, warm and beautiful under Bruce’s hands. There were new scars Bruce didn't know about. He made sure to show attention to every one with gentle kisses and colorful hickeys.

But he felt the same when Bruce was buried inside of his right warmth.

Even in a drugged state, Dick reacted beautifully. Soft moans and twitches as Bruce fucked him. Slow and gentle. It was so easy to manipulate Dick’s body into the right positions. He was just as flexible as he’d always been.

Bruce liked the long hair, he decided, when he buried his fingers into it to pull Dick into an embrace while Dick whimpered.

Beautiful. Perfect.

With a hand curled around Dick’s cock, they both came as Bruce groaned Dick’s name into his sweet skin.

Bruce licked Dick’s cum off his sweaty skin. Glassy eyes watched him, struggling to say something. It almost sounded like Bruce’s name.

After finishing, Bruce cleaned both of them up and climbed into bed, arranging Dick in his arms the way they used to cuddle in bed. He closed his eyes.

Dick was home now. Where he belonged. Bruce was stupid for ever sending him away. But he was home. That was what mattered.

They would figure out the rest later.

Dick came back to awareness in a warm bed with a sore body. The sheets and pillows were familiar. They smelled familiar. His body ached in familiar places too.

Before Dick even opened his eyes, he knew where he was.

He sat up. His body was still slow and stiff. Whatever Bruce had drugged him with was a hell of a thing.

Bruce drugged him. And fucked him.

Too many feelings flickered through Dick at once for him to parse out. Anger. Confusion. Shock.

Betrayal.

Dick tuned them out. He needed to take stock. Stay focused. At least until he was out of Bruce’s home.

The sunlight filtering through the windows marked the time as late morning. Bruce’s side of the bed was empty, but Dick could hear the shower running from the ensuite bathroom.

His suit was nowhere to be found. Which left Dick stuck in Bruce’s bed, naked and vulnerable.

He tried to keep his heartrate steady. The sheets got bunched up in Dick’s first.

The moment Bruce came out of the shower Dick was going to break his goddamn-

“Bruce!” The bedroom door flew open and Jason skidded into the room. “Bruce, Alfred wants to know where he should put-” Jason froze like a deer in headlights when he saw Dick. For a moment he just stared, wide eyed and open mouthed.

Dick look down at himself and swore. He snatched the blanket that was pooled around his waist, pulling it up tight to his chest. It was too late. They both knew Jason had already seen all the bite marks scattered across Dick’s skin.

“I-” Jason stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry, I didn't know-”

Like some kind of divine timing, the bathroom door opened. Bruce stepped out in nothing but loose boxers, drying his hair. He saw Dick, then Jason. His expression changed for both of them, settling on a coy smile.

“We’ve talked about knocking, Jason,” Bruce said calmly.

Jason’s face was so red it looked like it was about to catch on fire. “Sorry.”

“Head down to the kitchen for breakfast,” Bruce just gave him a fond look. “Dick and I will join you in a few minutes.”

“You’re staying for breakfast?” Jason’s eyes lit up looking at Dick.

Dick couldn't openly scowl at Bruce with Jason’s eyes on him. But he knew what Bruce was doing. And he had no choice, backed into a corner like this.

“Yeah.” Dick forced a smile. “Just for a little while.”

Jason whooped with excitement and ran out of the room as quickly as he’d came into it.

Dick whipped his head around and leveled Bruce with a deadly look.

“After breakfast,” Bruce said, before Dick can speak. “We’ll discuss this then.”

“You had no goddamn right-”

Bruce cut him off with a chaste kiss. Dick choked against Bruce’s mouth. All of his protests forced away. Dick’s heart was pounding. Too many emotions at once.

He swallowed his pride and kissed Bruce back.

[mcl38]

and in light of fun stuff i'd love to hear your thoughts on, saw a post a while back that got me thinking and basically reached the conclusion that carlos and lando's personalities complimented each other perfectly, which in a way brought out the best in both of them, while lando and daniel have very clashing personalities (not that they didn't get along eventually, just very different). meanwhile lando and oscar's personalities just like. match.

seen people say lando is to oscar what carlos was to him and in a way, yes (oscar clearly does look up to lando a bit and lando took the brunt of the media stuff in the beginning to make him more comfortable), but i also think there is a pretty big difference there. landoscar just feel very aligned to me idk. would like to hear what your opinions are :) think you always have good takes

so i left this for a couple days bc its literally been slow cooking in my brain like a stew... thinking abt this so much. u bring such a good point abt the difference between complementing and aligning / matching...

i often find it rly fun to look at friendships and relationships thru the lens of sibling dynamics - its my own personal brand of astrology or ig personality typology that im addicted to. and w carlos and lando i think the reason they 'complemented' each other so well was bc they very easily fell into an older-younger sibling dynamic - both r middle children, and idk the exact numbers but carlos should probably be around oli's age (landos older brother, who lando's rly close to, arguably the closest of all his siblings - not only did they used to travel for karting competitions back in the day, but nowadays they share a core friend group and go on holiday together, which is cute). so like, lando as a 19 year old rookie, shy but full of energy, is in the perfect position to be lightly bullied, shown the ropes, taught random shit, be shoved into walls, etc by someone who likes to play within that older brother role

so you have that first of all, which already creates some familiarity for lando (who otherwise is quite slow to thaw out of keeping ppl at arms length), and also the fact that they got along w each other quite easily. i dont think theyre that similar (again, complement, not match, its so brilliant), but theyre both entertained by quite simple things, which is y their humour tended to be so lowest-common-denominator: words that sound funny, hitting each other in the balls, dirty jokes, etc. i think where they DO find similarities is when theyre serious - they both have a very head-down team-first sort of attitude (which i think rly solidified in lando BC of carlos), so their trust in each other in terms of that helped make their more personal friendship rly straightforward and natural

daniel meanwhile... where do i start. i spent two years losing my mind in dms over the glorious trainwreck awkwardness that is dando and their interactions. i still cant QUITE parse it but its so good. u have lando whos used to having quite a reactive/passive friendship with carlos, suddenly putting his feet on the ground and his shackles up bc he stopped liking the directions he was being pushed in w daniel. i think daniel deffo is a big, domineering personality, naturally kind of selfish (youngest sibling AND im pretty sure the only boy) (im not judging him im also the youngest i can reclaim), and to keep it concise i think it kind of gave lando the ick.

lando is a very judgemental person, and his humour is quite specific - he'll laugh at the dumbest things ever, like the word 'blowy' or 'pubes' or jokes abt girls running away from him, AND also rly subtle sarcasm that takes a lot of context clues. but he just cannot operate within the middle ground: the typical snl-style (american type) classic humour. he just doesnt get it. when ppl try to do it with him u get things like 'lando i hope you're sitting down... you're p2' 'i don't know why will said that, i'm literally strapped to my seat' and 'throwback thursday' 'it's funny cos it's friday'. he sucks at metaphors and doesnt have patience to wait for punchlines, so the fact that daniel is kind of like universally 'classically' funny actually worked against him - especially bc daniel was fuelled w the confidence that lando liked him and found him hilarious

so thats actually the other thing - is daniels incapability of actually listening to lando. again, we kind of start from the standard of the carlos relationship, with lando as the reactor, but carlos was always rly attentive towards lando. and then daniel comes in - u have lando like a dog who figured out ur trying to exit the park and has suddenly refused to keep walking along, and daniel holding an endlessly extendable leash, whistling a little tune, completely oblivious that his dog is still like three streets down. lando was throwing him jab after jab after joke after joke for like the entirety of 2021 ('they just dig up jam' forever my favourite), but they would just fly over daniels head, making lando become more and more detached and disinterested in interactions w daniel. waaaay into their partnership as teammates, theres this video of lando telling daniel that theyre serving cookies (?) somewhere, and daniel says 'so you got a brownie?' and i think lando says smth like 'nah a cookie, not a brownie, otherwise i wouldve said brownies', to which daniel is like 'i respect that, you're finally dishing it back'. and i rmbr my reaction was like FINALLY ? WYM FINALLY?? hes BEEN doing this for SO LONG like ALL THE TIME now.

idk, its weird bc opinions r rly split on dando, some ppl in yt comments or reddit or whatever still say they were the funniest duo in f1, but other ppl will always pipe up saying the energy was awkward and it was clear they didnt like each other. neither of those things r true for me - i think they did like each other, especially later on (professionally, i think lando definitely had a lot of anxieties abt having to outperform the big new top dog in the team, which made him a bit colder, but i think he gained a lot of respect for daniel when he saw how much daniel was struggling but how much he was still willing to show up and do the whole job until the end w a smile on his face). i have a suspicion they probably get along way better 1 on 1, bc a lot of daniel's off-putting intensity happens when he tries to play up for the cameras. but i am also partly thankful for that too, bc we had a couple art challenges in 2021-2022 where daniel did all the talking, so lando could focus on having fun with his Little Tasks, and thats literally my fav type of mclaren video, so cheers danny.

so then we get to oscar. i think the main difference with oscar is that, for the first time, lando doesnt have a bigger personality imposing itself on him. if he used to b reactive with carlos and daniel, oscar is way more laid back and passive than him, which means lando is finally for the first time the one setting the pace. especially in the early days, this was obvious - lando would throw out the beginning of a bad joke, expecting to be interrupted or one-upped, but oscar would just sit there quietly creature-staring, waiting for lando to finish his train of thought. it was so awkwardly delightful. so what u get now is that lando isnt playing catch up anymore - which doesnt mean hes making oscar do it now. on the contrary, what ive found is that lando brings his personality to oscar-volume, which sounds like it would be dull but it so isnt. again, he thrives in quiet subtlety, and so does oscar, so u get videos like the finish the lyrics where u have to turn the volume all the way up to even hear what theyre saying, but its so worth it bc its SO fun once u do.

in terms of matching, theyre definitely quite similar in terms of humour. both of them love the awkward pauses and jim halpert looking into the camera and eye rolls and deadpan. it took a while to find their rhythm w two of them playing the same joke-role and not having a straight man (comedy term!!) to bounce off of, but i think they figured it out. theyre different enough in terms of family dynamics (oscar is an eldest brother w many sisters, but also younger than lando) that neither of them would fit a pre-made space, so they can just kinda be on equal level to each other. this is especially true since theyve grown up in the same circles - never raced each other directly, but lando moved up categories rly fast, which means oscar spent his late teens mostly racing ppl lando was racing in karting and early single seaters. (most significantly, max fewtrell, who oscar used to b in the junior renault academy with, and who i think is kind of a good representation of what lando and oscar have in common - lowkey, sarcastic, deadpan, but also not taking himself too seriously)

to come back to what u said abt oscar-lando being inverse lando-carlos: i also see it to some extent, like u said (theres those tiktok edit parallels like lando telling oscar to cut his hair the way carlos said it to him in 2019). i think its mostly something lando himself is conscious of and sort of imposes on himself - he often compares oscar's personal trajectory to his, like when he says oscar will open up and be less quiet once he gets comfortable (which was true), so i think hes deffo aware of the comparison. but i dont think it runs any deeper than that, bc i havent seen lando position himself as the same kind of mentor-guru in-the-know older figure. i just dont think his personality can mould to that

idk sorry for this novel size answer. i have even more thoughts abt oscar and lando that im currently trying to shove into a fic so like. all of this has been floating in my brain for ages now

[leviiackrman]

Okay yall, pls enjoy Chika’s full story now up on her page: read here

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @risingsh0t @bbrocklesnar @carrionsflower @statichvm @roofgeese @unholymilf @florbelles @arklay @captmactavish @shellibisshe @simonxriley @queennymeria @marivenah @nokstella @vvardenfae @thedeadthree @jacobseed @jackiesarch @heroofpenamstan @dameayliins @carlosoliveiraa @shadowglens @fenharel @alexxmason @malefiicarum @nightbloodbix

[bropunzeling]

I wish you would write a fic where Nate MacKinnon and Jo Drouin, you know...

oh gosh. im not a scholar about these guys but i am NOT immune. i think a really fun dynamic to contemplate is nate being low key in love with jo for ages in an almost not self-aware way, like he would do anything for jo but he also is not interrogating that to any degree whatsoever, and also not thinking about how things have changed since they were teens in any way whatsoever. meanwhile jo is aware that there could have been feelings, maybe could be in the future, but there’s their careers and he's not on the same team (or sometimes it feels like in the same league) and it just seems too hard and messy to broach... and then jo goes to the avs, and nate is like don't you want to crash with me instead of house hunting? don't you want to walk our dogs together? don't you want to play together like this for as long as we can? isn't this good? isn't this incredible? and it is good, and it is incredible, and yet jo is so aware of the ticking clock of his contract and his talent and can he really play next to nate for any serious length of time? can he even think past this season? maybe better to just focus on what's good now. and he's doing a great job of compartmentalizing that, right up until the moment nate kisses him.

[blackbatofel]

If Clark & Bruce have their own signature fragrances, what would they be?

This is such a fun question, it really had me thinking for a while.

I'm most definitely not a fragrance expert, but I can imagine that Bruce's signature fragrance would be something smoky and musky with a leather accent. I feel like that would represent both Bruce Wayne, the elegant billionaire, and Batman, the mysterious hero.

Clark's would be something more warm and subtle. I would go for a woody fragrance with maybe a hint of lavender or citrus. Idk, I feel like there's something really nice and symbolic about Clark's signature fragrance being one that reminds you of earth and sunny days.

[sherlock-is-ace]

One thing about me is that if I see someone reblogging AI images, I will let them know 👌🏻

[teecupangel]

Hey there!

I don't know if you take requests for character analyses (if you don't just ignore this), but I would really like to see your take on Desmond Miles since, for some reason, I can't really seem to wrap my head around him, which has resulted in me finding him almost boring, and I would like to remedy that.

I'm particularly interested in what you believe to be to be his biggest flaws and where they come from, since that's what usually compels me the most about a character, and also what I have trouble with finding in Desmond.

I’m fine with any analysis requests that get sent my way :)

Although, I do wonder if I’m the right person to analyze Desmond since character analysis is meant to be as nonbias as possible but I’m me and y’all know how much I love Desmond at this point. XD

I will do my best though but it is my duty to remind you that this analysis is written by someone who loves Desmond so, yeah, some of that love will bleed thru in this analysis.

Also, as this would get pretty long if I do a complete character analysis, I’ll focus on what compelled me to Desmond which, I believe, is connected to your question about what his flaws are and where they come from.

What compelled me to Desmond:

Nolan North’s Voice

He’s voiced by Nolan North and I’ve been in love with Nolan North’s voice since I played Spec Ops the Line. Haha, no, that’s half a joke and my obligatory “Nolan North fangirling” out of the way. Also, no joke, Nolan North was able to give Desmond a compelling voice that helped mold his character in my eyes and ears. I never once heard Desmond speak and thought "oh, that's Nathan Drake" which is funny since Nolan North uses similar voices for the two of them. With what he's given, Nolan North was able to make Desmond unique from his other characters, making him a charming and adorable dumbass with more depth than he usually shows.

Endless Potential

This was what compelled me to him because his part in the series felt like it was building for something more. If we were to believe what Nolan North said in this video (around the 33~34 minute mark), Desmond was meant to have a bigger part in the story. The ultimate Assassin with the ability to time travel, most probably to help change the past and tragedy of his ancestors and to usher in a brighter future for the Brotherhood and mankind. The one who will finally end the endless war between the Assassins and the Templars.

But then Ubisoft screwed that up and wasted Desmond’s potential.

But from their actions were born endless potential. For as long as there are fans who create new stories with Desmond in them, Desmond lives up to that endless potential. By destroying Desmond’s potential, Ubisoft unintentionally created a character with endless potential given to him by those who create stories where he is resurrected or never died in the first place.

And that endless potential is what brings new ideas and scenarios for our dear poor Desmond to get involved with. XD

Desmond and His Ancestors

Kenway-Patented Daddy Issues

So let’s start with Ratonhnhaké:ton because there are some people who say that Desmond and Ratonhnhaké:ton are quite similar to one another but, let’s be honest, most of those comparisons stem from their similar ‘tense’ relationship with their father. Desmond and Ratonhnhaké:ton mirror each other because of that relationship and they showed two contrasting ‘endings’:

Ratonhnhaké:ton had wanted to build a bridge between himself and his father but ended up killing Haytham because of their differences and their stubbornness to yield to the other’s wishes and demands.

On the other hand, Desmond let go of whatever animosity he felt for his father and made up with him in the end even though there have been hints of how deeply Bill mistreated his son (either thru neglect or actual abuse is up to interpretation) that should have been given more time to talk about than... two-ish voice messages.

This is more my opinion but Desmond forgiving his father and trying to make amends is because he wished to grant Ratonhnhaké:ton’s wish in some form. Perhaps even his Bleed of Ratonhnhaké:ton is the reason why he felt the desire to make amends because he’s seeing a lot of Haytham Kenway in Bill. In his Bleed-’corrupted’ mind, this could be counted as Ratonhnhaké:ton getting his wish.

The Legend Everyone Wants Him To Become

Lucy said it herself, they’re using the Bleeding Effect to jumpstart and cheat their way into making Desmond an Assassin. But is that really their end goal? Sure, Lucy had the ulterior motive of the Templars wanting to get the POE that had been under Ezio’s care but the Assassins themselves want Desmond to become an Assassin as quickly as possible.

We can even make an argument that they want Desmond to not be an Assassin like Ezio Auditore but to be Ezio Auditore.

Because Ezio Auditore was seen as a success story by the Assassins. They didn’t know how he had almost been so close to giving up the Creed during his later years, they didn’t know how he left the Brotherhood because he had enough…

They remember Ezio Auditore as this great man, this legend.

And the Bleeding Effect gave them the tool to try and recreate this legend in Desmond Miles.

Also, the way Lucy, Shaun, and Rebecca supported Desmond is similar to how Mario and the members of the Italian Brotherhood in AC2 supported Ezio.

In some ways, they were using Desmond/Ezio to get what they want. Desmond and Ezio are the ones risking their lives the most (either in the field where anything and everyone can kill him with Ezio or in a high-tech device that could destroy his mind with Desmond) while their allies kept information from them “until the time is right” (mostly Bill and, by extension, Lucy) and supported them from the shadows instead.

The Distorted Mirror

For me, Desmond is actually more of Altaïr’s foil and a distorted mirror image of Altaïr because:

Both of their mothers are quite the blank slate with Maud only known as a Christian member of the Levantine Brotherhood but never confirmed to be an actual Assassin while Desmond’s mother has never been officially called an Assassin, only a member of the Brotherhood like Maud.

Both were born and raised in Assassin ‘strongholds’, isolated from the rest of the world. How similar their upbringing was is open for interpretation but, considering how Desmond never talked about any specific children from the Farm and didn’t talk about his life as a bartender or any of his coworkers and the only person that treats Altaïr like an old friend was an informant in Damascus (if we do not count Rauf who looks like he’s friendly with everyone and Kadar who is more on the side of hero-worship for Altaïr than being a friend of equal grounds), we can safely assume they were both lonely (especially after Abbas and Altaïr’s friendship went to hell).

Both of them were trained to be Assassins at an early age but where Altaïr thrived and became one of the best Assassins in the Levantine Brotherhood (and, later on, in history), Desmond saw himself as a failure.

Speaking of which, they both have father figures who trained them to be Assassins but where Al Mualim succeeded in creating a valuable weapon, Bill failed.

Both of them, at some point in their lives, thought about running away. Altaïr had been ready to leave Levant with Adha but stayed instead after her death. Desmond, on the other hand, actually ran away and created a new life out of the reach of the Brotherhood.

Altaïr is known for saying “How can I regret the only life I have ever known?” which echoes Desmond’s regrets of running away from his Assassin lineage.

Desmond had talked about how he wished people had told him things, had explained things to him, and given him information that would have made him understand that the Assassins and Templars were real. He even tells Shaun that he would have loved to have been a know-it-all in the Desmond_01.WAV in AC Valhalla. Altaïr is known to hoard knowledge (his library) and is a scholar as well. They both desired knowledge but where Altaïr sought and hoarded it, Desmond simply… wished for it.

There are other comparisons of how similar they are but distorted in some way to make them unique from one another (like how their canon love interest (sorta in Desmond’s case) died because of them in some form or another) but those are some of the major ones in my opinion.

So, you might be wondering, why did I focus so much on Desmond’s ancestors when this is meant to be a character analysis of Desmond himself?

Because that is one of his flaws.

Desmond has and will always be compared to his ancestors, both in universe and in meta. One can only imagine how Desmond felt about being compared to his ancestors.

Well...

We can actually guess how he felt about that because...

Another one of his flaws is how he saw himself as a failure and his feeling of being never enough, of being a failure stems from, you guessed it, William Fucking Miles:

I—I had failed you, and you KNEW it. But you said nothing. I stayed mad. For weeks. I thought you were...you were patronizing me. I thought maybe you decided right there that I was never going to be the man you wanted me to be... (Noob’s Personal Files: "Subject Zero" - audio file 3)

The rest of the audio file talked about how Desmond had misunderstood Bill’s actions but what kind of upbringing would he have to have had that his first thought when he was praised was that it was a lie? Instead of immediately believing the praises given to him by his own father, he assumed that he had failed and his father had given up on him?

Desmond couldn’t even see his own accomplishment:

Desmond: I wanted out. I wanted my own life. To live my own way. Sixteen years old. And where was I going? No idea. Just away. That's it. That was the plan. Not much of one. They never guessed what I was doing, because I didn't know what I was doing. I just walked right out. Someone realized I was gone. They shouted. I started running.

William: Desmond! Desmond!

Desmond: I just ran and ran and ran. All that training was finally worth something. God, it was so dark when I left. And the forest... endless. I didn't dare take the roads.

Mother: Desmond, where are you?

Desmond: Mother, calling out. Begging me to stay. But I wouldn't. I followed the hills down. Down until I hit a stream. I followed that to a river, and from the river to an old access road. I walked for hours that day, the summer sun keeping me warm well into the evening. Found a clearing after dark. Fell asleep beneath the stars. Never had a quieter night. Not before or since. Walking, too scared to hitch a ride. What the hell was I doing? Lost in the badlands for a day. Felt like a week. Endless ocean of wrinkled earth. Can't believe a place could look so dead. (AC Revelations Escape)

A secured location run and protected by adult Assassins couldn’t catch a 16 year old kid? Even if it’s just his parents who went after him, two adults with more experience couldn’t catch him? This only shows that Desmond had the skills. A sixteen years old who had NEVER left the Farm further than what his training and his parents had allowed was able to evade those who were training him his entire life.

Yet, he still thought that he had been a failure. That memory of Bill praising him for doing a good job and him believing that Bill had given up on him stayed with him and made him believe he was a failure for a very long time.

And this was a man who stayed out of the whole Assassin and Templar business for nine years until he grew complacent and tried to treat himself with a motorcycle license (which might show how bored he was with his life as a bartender and wanted some excitement in his life… like a really fast vehicle)

Bill described Desmond as:

This... boy had no ambition. No direction. No plans for the future. What he DID have was a heritage. One he chose to deny. (AC3 Intro)

But then you get to Desmond’s audio files in AC Valhalla where he talked to Shaun about what the Creed means and he says this:

Anyway, my dad has mellowed over the years. But he was strict when we lived on the Farm. He ran a tight ship. I never got the impression that I was free to choose my path forward. Our creed, our tenets, they were drilled into my head. By the time I was a teenager, I was following these rules out of a sense of duty. This was... just what we did. (Layla Hassan’s Personal Files Desmond_01.WAV)

Just like Altaïr, the life of an Assassin was the only life Desmond had and he felt like he never had a choice. He was envious of Shaun who decided to become an Assassin out of his own free will.

But running away?

Denying his lineage?

That was the very first ‘choice’ he ever made for himself.

And this brings us to what Desmond desired most of all:

His “I wanted my own life.” in AC Revelation’s Escape is another excuse he tells himself. Because what he truly wanted was:

A Place to Belong.

After nine years of being away, my old bitterness was back. I was tired again. I didn't want to admit that moving forward might mean taking a step back. But the shine of the city had faded. The freedom I felt was hollow without old friends, without family. (AC Revelations Regret)

But then Desmond started saying these lines:

And suddenly, I wanted it all back. All that training, all that time. But I couldn't. Those days. They were gone. (AC Revelations Regret)

Not until you guys found me. Yeah. It wasn't until I met you and Becs and Lucy that I knew... I knew I wanted to be an Assassin. (Layla Hassan’s Personal Files Desmond_01.WAV)

I know my easiest days are behind me. But I don't want them back. Not now. My name is Desmond Miles... and I am an Assassin. I AM an Assassin. (AC Revelations Regret)

But then compare that to how Desmond was in AC1:

Lucy: Why'd you run away?

Desmond: I could never leave the compound. You have any idea what it's like being trapped in a place, knowing there is a whole world out there I'd never get to see?

Lucy: Don't you miss your parents?

Desmond: No. Far as I'm concerned, they weren't my parents. They were my wardens and I was their prisoner.

Lucy: It sounds like they only wanted to protect you.

Desmond: With all that's happened... I don't know. I guess they were right. (AC1, after the first memory block)

What changed?

Is it because Desmond knew what it was like to be part of a team? Of what it’s like to be an Assassin?

Yes but it’s a little bit more complicated than that.

Desmond felt like he belonged with the Assassins but he made one big mistake: he thought he meant the Assassins as they were are right now.

But what he truly desired, the place that he believed he could belong was the Brotherhood of olds.

The Levantine Brotherhood under Altaïr as the mentor.

The Italian Brotherhood under Ezio as the mentor.

Those were the 'memories' he had of what it meant to be part of a Brotherhood.

Then he started reliving Ratonhnhaké:ton’s life (one who did not have a Brotherhood, instead a village that left him behind and an old man too jaded to truly guide him without letting his past and guilt drive a wedge between them) and those messages he left for Bill? The acceptance? The forgiveness?

They were created after experiencing the pain and loneliness that Ratonhnhaké:ton went thru. It was created after he felt the sorrow of having a father that will never accept him for who he was.

They were left by a man who felt the regrets of someone close to him, could feel himself be him at times, and wished for another ending.

A… happier one.

Desmond’s line of

My name is Desmond Miles... and I am an Assassin. I AM an Assassin.

Becomes bittersweet because, yes, he had accepted who he was meant to be from the start but, thanks to the Bleeding Effect, we never got to know if the kind of Assassin he was ever meant to be was one that was truly Desmond Miles or…

Someone trying to live up to the memories of his ancestors.

[chronal-anomaly]

Thinking about recalls and the automatic recall function on the accelerator. How the accelerator alone burns so much energy, but especially after Recalls is when it hits the worse.

Basic, easy recalls come with routine side effects. Exhaustion, after too many, hunger, dehydration in some cases. Not unlike going for a moderate jog. While she doesn't like to recall in training, she will, and that's usually when you see these the most.

The side effects worsen a bit more when it's more of an extreme recall, occuring either after a long recall or an automatic one following a fatal blow. It will trigger milliseconds before she would die, sending her back anywhere from 3-10 seconds before whatever it was that would kill her (explosion, bullet wound, etc). It's not an exact science, but it usually tries to put her out of immediate harms way again (recalling to empty space, in front of another bullet, etc). It still happens but less so.

The other area where she might see worse side effects is long term recalls. They're highly recommended against by Winston and the rest of the design team, so it's incredibly rare that it happens. While she can recall to any point in her Overwatch timeline life, Winston designed a governor to limited how far back she can recall to.

She overrode this exactly 5 times. 3 of which were spent on going back to watch the Zurich base collapse, look for answers, and try to find survivors. This was a dark, manic point in her life, where she was clutching for any kind of answers ever, at all. The first time it happened, it was only a few days after the explosion. The second, on the one year anniversary and the third, about 4 years after the collapse of Overwatch. Still seeking answers, still failing terribly. There would probably be more, if she wasn't taken into "protective" custody by the UN shortly after clean up efforts were concluded.

The other two visits were to the Slipstream launch, with very similar goals. Those ranged from 2 years after her return and 2.5 years after her return. Trying to understand what happened, how it happened, etc.

The longer she recalls, the more harsh the consequences. Anything within a 3-10 minute recall is fine, with very little side effects. An hour - 10 hours leads to more exhaustion, but barely. That means she can immediately get back up and into the fight. Anything beyond that, things get worse.

Worse side effects include blurred vision, bleeding from the nose and sometimes the ears, vomiting, fainting, stints of incorporealness where she's present but unable to touch anything, and unconsciousness.

Following her last trip to Zurich, Lena slipped into a coma for four days before waking up, as her body tried to replenish depleted energy sources. Winston had a lot to say about that one. Following a particularly nasty ultimatum when fighting omnics one day, Lena was left with the option to run a weapon out of town or let it explode in the middle of everything. Once the automatic recall kicked in, she was out cold for 7 hours, requiring search and rescue from the rest of her team to find her on the empty beach she landed on.

These are all treatable, and not deadly unless the accelerator is overtaxed, like we see in the trailer short in the museum. In that case, the accelerator will go dark until it is charged off her energy to go again, and is usually a pretty terrible moment until she's back. Lena usually finds cover in these rare situations, radioing out to give her 10 until the accelerator is back online. If she can, she'll retreat, but that's not always possible.

[withleeknow]

gatekeeping lk from potentially gaining more exposure is not funny.....even as a joke lol. it's always the other 7 getting more opportunities than him especially the rest of visual racha. it's like minho doesn't even exist to fuckass jyp 🫤

are you serious lol

[soppingwetguywife]

you know what boggles my mind about these takes on guillermo and his great big betrayal this season? it's the fact that some people have managed to so thoroughly divorce this arc from what happened last season as if the two don't correlate. as if the fact that nandor betrayed guillermo first and in one of the worst ways he could think of has nothing to do with where they are now

okay so there are Four of these and they're all SO correct so im gonna put all of them and my thoughts under the cut (yeah i know nobody comes to my blog for Hot WWDITS Takes (or.... for anything) but this whole situation has me pressed okay) thank you so much anon i NEED to talk about this

"and i don't mean that in the way that some have meant it in a guillermo is doing this for revenge type of way but just that freddie was his last straw but instead of leaving like he would have before he decided to stay on his own terms. he decided that for once fuck what nandor wants, he'll do what he wants instead. guillermo literally started of season 4 saying he was looking out for number one and then he didn't for MONTHS but sure he's a monster for following up on his promise to himself" "and freddie isn't just some isolated incident that doesn't have any context. take this from guillermo's pov, he spent weeks (maybe months? unclear on timeline here) preparing a wedding, being asked to do impossible shit but somehow coming through and his reward was that one moment of nandor admitting he cares for him by calling him his best man (we know he meant best friend so did memo i'm sure) and then nandor had to take that away." "'cause just so we're clear best friends don't fuck your boyfriend. there might have been some extra steps there but ultimately that is what nandor did and he didn't think to stop for a second why he was doing it, if it would hurt guillermo, just nothing. so guillermo i think was back to square one, nothing has changed nandor can be kind for one second and do something so blindingly selfish and cruel the next and this fandom really expected him to lie down and take it"

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN!!! YOU GET IT ANON!

so, i must start with this. every season, almost always, continues in a sort of vacuum. not so much that there's no continuity, because there usually is! so let's just follow guillermo, because there's a point i want to make here.

S1- guillermo learns he is a slayer. S2- guillermo reveals he has spent the past summer killing vampires to keep the house safe, which leads into the finale; guillermo goes and rescues the vampires from the theatre in a Beautiful display of murder. S3- guillermo is trapped in a cage, because of that Beautiful display of murder, which leads into the finale; guillermo agrees to go away with nandor on a world trip and eventual turning (this goes wrong, which leads to) S4- guillermo finally returns from being stuck in england, a year AFTER the end of s3, which leads into the finale; guillermo goes to derek to be turned.

NOW. let's assess where the VAMPIRES start and finish throughout the seasons.

and the answer to that is; exactly where they fucking started. because s4 was right. nothing changes. colin robinson dies and is reborn and grows and in the end, he's exactly where he started. nadja grows and learns and tries to forge an identity for herself, and then she fails, and she's exactly where she started. laszlo... okay, laszlo's just along for the ride. and he LIKES where he started. nandor started as a neurotic, cool-hearted washed-up-warlord who tries to be strong, passionate, the leader that everyone looks up to. he doesn't seem to notice nobody looks up to him except guillermo, because duh, why would he notice guillermo? and every season, we're right back to where we started. we see them grow closer, and then we see them ripped apart! and every new season, we're back to joking at his expense. the only notable difference this season is that nandor sort of HAS grown more tolerant of him, a building through-line that we have only seen through guillermo, the only character that changes enough for a bond to be formed rather than assumed (ie; the foot locker, the self-help book, the being insanely jealous that laszlo is spending his time with him) (as opposed to his friendship with the vampires, one that has always been sort of assumed except for with colin robinson, something that s5e6 pretty thoroughly shattered)

this season, we are seeing the inevitability of five seasons and nearly fourteen years of guillermo assuring himself that he would get what he wanted, that he hadn't given up his family and his job and his emotions and the parts of his brain that are... well, human, for nothing. he has been promised and promised and promised that this is the time, this is when the time is right, just TRUST in the inevitability of change in a house full of people that never change and never want to. he has been growing and changing every season, growing stronger, more confident, more capable, unlike the vampires.

but because guillermo is the butt of the joke, because he HAS to be, right? because he has to always be the one that suffers (learning his bloodline kills the very thing he loves, being LOCKED UP for PROTECTING the very thing he loves, being locked in a COFFIN just when he was going to get it, and FINALLY being turned only to be turned wrong and in the most horrible, ugly way???? (well, for him, for me it was a visual treat, love me a man covered in blood)) it turns out that there's this cute little rule! one that we've never seen before (though there is some hinting toward this, i suppose, in the case of celeste, right? she never poached, only took unattached familiars. did she know? we'll never find out, i don't think!) and now the thing he loves (person he loves the most) will be his end, because of course it is, right? and of course he definitely deserves it, right? because he's the butt of the joke, the silly little human who dared to make his OWN life better rather than waiting for a day that was so clearly never gonna come unless he held them at stakepoint or he did.... exactly what he did.

nandor is the deciding factor. and from what we've seen of him for the past five seasons, he's gonna bluster and threaten and probably challenge him to a fight to the death or something stupid like that, but it's not like he has any real bite anymore anyway? but he's NEVER gonna let this go, i don't think, which is INSANE considering how much guillermo has been letting slide for YEARS in terms of his behavior.

if nandor wanted to do it himself, he should have considered 'why the hell would guillermo EVER be late to the one thing he's been telling me for years that he always wanted?'

instead we see in s4e1 that he BLAMES guillermo for leaving him, and refuses to hear anything to the contrary. and again in s5e5, he blames guillermo for not being there for them, and refuses to hear anything to the contrary. to him, the human will always be at fault, and he will always be their better, and it is going to take guillermo not BEING a human anymore to shake that out of him.

from there, it's all up to him, really! (we have to also account for the classic wwdits 'yeah they're all just idiots, they'll be totally fine with it and they'll be back to being besties by s6e2' because i have little faith in any sort of emotional continuity after every season's constant stunting of everyone's Almost-Emotional-Growth)

i genuinely do not know if this made any sense. but i wanted to talk about how the way we've watched guillermo grow and take responsibility for himself makes it so clear that he SHOULDN'T just sit down and take it, even though he seems very much like he's more than willing to. i'm not gonna touch the whole virginity and slut-shaming metaphors, because i do NOT feel qualified to discuss them, and better people have done it (though i do think a lot of them are biased toward nandor rather than guillermo) but i just think that in the lines of continuity, this was EXPECTED, and it being treated like a season-long punchline isn't particularly fair to guillermo! which is the point of the show, and the counter-point of this rant!

guillermo deserves better, he got it, and now they just have to let him HAVE it.

[necrotic-nephilim]

What are your opinions on Casstim?

i LOVE CassTim. i've actually written a CassTim fic that's mostly just fluff and smut, but i have a lot of ideas/thoughts about them that play with the more complicated aspects of them.

i'm of the opinion that Tim and Cass were a potential romance that DC left the door open for before Tim got adopted by Bruce. (and tbh, even after he got adopted there were certain interactions in Red Robin (2009) that felt romantically implied) a lot of their interactions have implied feelings on both sides so of all Batcest ships, i think this one has a *lot* of genuine canon backing despite it being one of the most underrated ships of the fandom.

the dynamic between Cass and Tim is really interesting to me because Tim doesn't want to be Batman in any capacity and thinks that goal is actually incredibly unhealthy and unachievable, whereas to Cass it's the thing she strives for the most and if anything she wants to be even more than that. (Batgirl (2000) #59 actually has a really interesting discussion about that and that whole post-War Games arc is fun for understanding how Tim and Cass feel about each other) so a lot of their interactions clash because of that and they can't always see eye to eye on what vigilante justice and Batman's vision should look like. their relationship with each other is always going to be dependant on their relationship with Bruce first, as well as the Batman mantle as a whole. so for them to love each other (which, they do without a doubt, romantic or not) they have to accept where they don't agree with each other.

there's such a gentleness to CassTim, i think? not because i think Cass (or Tim tbh) is gentle, but i think for the exact opposite reason. there is this fullness and drivenness in the way she loves and her undying devotion to them. she would do anything to protect her loved ones. and when you combine that with Tim, who's pretty self-sacrificial at his worst, you have some interesting conflict because they're both too-willing to die for the other. their lives are defined by violence, *especially* Cass', so for her to finally let herself be loved and protected by someone else as much as she loves others is something that simply makes me feral.

they've both been trained by Shiva, which i don't think gets explored enough because it's fun for exploring the way they fight and think in a fight being potentially similar. Cass is *far* smarter than anyone gives her credit for being, and has detective skills on par with Tim, in my opinion. they balance each other out in a lot of ways. they're two people who have *chosen* this fight more than a lot of the rest of the Batfamily. being Batgirl is so important to Cass and it's something she chose because of her desperate want to be good. and Tim chose to be Robin because he knew Gotham and Bruce needed that. while they don't always agree on it, i would argue Cass and Tim understand the nuances of the Batman mantle and what it represents deeper than almost anyone else. because of that i'm particularly interested in a future CassTim, where Cass becomes Batman and Tim is in a weird limbo where he wants to stop being a vigilante but can't seem to quite let go of the life and how they end up meeting in the middle of that. i think it could be really fun with a lot of complicated arguments between them that end in a slow burn romance.

idk man this is baseless rambling, but tldr i love them so dearly and there's so much that can be explored between them. also, i think TimKonCass should be a thing. i like KonCass more than most people do (why do y'all hate this ship it's so good pls hear me out-) and i think as a complicated weird throuple they'd be fun.

[little-alien-duck]

competed in a bouldering competition a couple of days ago and the thing about this comp style is that you have to wait your turn on a problem and it can take 20 mins if the comp is crowded and you only have three hours to climb so like if you get on the wall and realize you've made a mistake you have to fix it without getting off the wall bc this is your one shot and there's just something about frantically puzzle solving your way through a problem with the pressing time limit of "until your strength gives out" that is just utterly unique and incredible

[3416]

hi emma! i miss the boys but willy the most atm, do you have any favorite game or interview moments of his?

hiiiiii there... can't believe how long this summer is going to feel without them tbh. BUT MISSING WILLIAM NYLANDER HOURS? okay, i got you.

one of my favorite willy vids is his leaf to leaf with jt from last year. he's just so.. chill and open and happy there idk. his laugh gets me, and it's the same in his older leaf to leaf with auston. i also love the one with zach hyman from covid times and getting to see him laidback in his own space. and then... more recently.. i have revisited the bunting and willy tim hortons drive through content 489324923 times to cheer me up. also for more serious but interesting conversation, i've loved what the leafs have done with their 3 course conversations and willy's swedish menu one was interesting!!

if you want some older days stuff, there's his 20 questions with kasperi kapanen from when they were on the marlies... that was my intro to their dynamic and i love it. (and the 20 questions from the year before that is good too.. he's just a young baby giggly cherub imo) (also peep this willy + pasta interview from back in the day... it's fascinating to dig into the old connections imo) and here's an old compilation of him laughing :') i'm sure there are fancams and vids on twitter of him, but i'm TERRIBLE at keepign track of and sorting media on twitter, my bad.

and then maybe my favorite willy video of all time bc i'm not immune to cute happy children is that iconic interview with his dad where he's in the bg squirming around and knocking shit over and laughing... cutest thing i've seen in my entire life EVER.

if you're looking for more hockey stuff, here's a fun fanvid abt his career highlights up until last year (and how bitchy ppl have been abt his career only for him to prove his worth over n over), and then here's a recent compilation of all his highlights from this year... get to relive his hockey skill and pretend like we're still watching him play. it's a crime that we're not.

anyway, hope any of that helped or cheered you up. i hate how every leaf goes dark during the off season, but i totally don't blame them. if worst comes to worst, i also scroll through their igs/twitters and just google search them or look through blogs who have them as favorites. it's rough out here missing hockey players.

[inkykeiji]

boyfriend’s mom lovingly laughing at me as i use both hands and my entire body strength to cut wire tree stems

(i’m talking about cutting these into pieces btw!!)