#begging for those scenes to make it

[stephofromcabin12]

God I love hapless confused but trying toddler dad Dionysus

Me reading pjo for the first time and getting pulled out of burnout by a deadbeat (but kinda not really) dad and his quiet love for his sons:

[wolfwarrior142]

Callum has asked Rayla twice now to kill him if he's ever corrupted again. This time as like a barter. And this time, despite looking devastated, she finally (begrudgingly) agrees. And later this season, Callum is cleared of his dark magic corruption, but it also warned that if he does dark magic again it'll overwhelm him.

Man my dreams have already been haunted enough by death foreshadowing I can't take much more of it for these two.

[wildsaltair]

the way his tunic fits over his chest is literally the air I breathe every day

[crispyjenkins]

(AC wip) The Savage Price of Piety

it's desmond's deathday and i wrote like. 9,000 more words to this wip (first two parts here) last week and i want to brag about it, so happy deathday you wet bastard (mostly gen but with a surprise rarepair, time travel/reincarnation, found family, william miles’ a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly, inspired by study of flight by @esamastation but with a twist!, only somewhat historically accurate swears by which i mean probably not at all but leonardo had some Opinions alright) have some (three) chronological but scattered bits of scenes

  “Oh,” Claudia says as soon as she opens the door, seeing Ezio’s rather wretched expression, “you’ve figured it out, then.”

  “You could have told me,” he growls, following her into the entryway and closing the door behind himself. 

  Claudia scoffs, spinning on heel to lead the way further into the building for the kitchens. “I had one conversation with the boy, brother, I was hardly sure of it myself. Wait,” she halts and points a finger at him accusingly, “how did you figure it out?”

  Ezio, quite graciously he thinks, ignores the subtle insult to his intelligence. Sighing, he pushes back his hood before their mother sees him with it on indoors, and runs a hand over his beard. “I had Leonardo visit.”

  Claudia’s face slackens, before twisting into a rage that has Ezio stepping away warily.

  But she punches the wall instead of her brother, a shouted “Gods damn it!” echoing in the narrow space. Then she spins on her heel and hollers further into the residential part of the bordello, “Mother! We forgot about Leonardo!”

  Horrified by his sister and concerned for his mother’s current mental state, Ezio reaches out to put a hand on Claudia’s arm, but he doesn’t get the chance before Maria de' Auditore is shouting right back, “God damn it!”

  Grumbling, Claudia stomps down the hall and leaves a very confused Ezio hurrying to follow; she ignores all his pleas for explanation until she’s stomped into the kitchen, where their mother is pouring two very large glasses of wine, with very little water to cut down the potency. She passes one to Claudia silently, and then they both drink, though luckily they aren’t attempting to down it all at once.

  “I can’t believe we forgot the Maestro,” their mother mutters to herself as she comes over to kiss Ezio on both cheeks, before shoving the still mostly-full glass into his hands.

  “Forgot him for what?” Ezio wants to know, clutching the glass like a mother clutches a babe.

  “To test if Miles really is an Auditore.” It’s said so flippantly, like it doesn’t affect Claudia at all, but she also collapses into one of two chairs at the little tea table under the largest window. Their mother takes the other, massaging her forehead and looking like she’s grieving their family all over again.

  It occurs to Ezio, as he moves to stand next to the table, that she probably is.

--

“It’s all up to you now, Seventeen.”

  Desmond opens his eyes to the dark of the dormitory, faint moonlight cutting over the floor between his bed and Nino’s, and he can’t bring himself to move — even to roll off his arm that is very much still asleep. 

  Clay still haunts him.

  Five hundred fucking years, and his current twenty-four besides, and that fucker still won’t leave him alone. If Desmond were not so familiar with what an actual Bleed feels like, he’d almost think Clay is stuck in his brain the same way as his ancestors. Thank fuck he stopped Bleeding Ezio’s memories and feelings, while still retaining much of the training.

  Fuck, time travel is so weird.

  Or, reincarnation? He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure he was dead, he’s sure he burned, and he’s sure that though his 15th century mother had affectionately called him [redacted], his name is Desmond Miles.

  Or just Miles, he supposes. Sue him, he panicked when Adele first approached him, and the best aliases are ones you know you’ll respond to, right? If only he’d have had the forethought to divorce himself from his... future family’s surname.

  It sounds different enough with an Italian accent that it hasn’t caused any problems, yet. Like making him flinch. Or snapping that he hasn’t been a Miles since he was sixteen.

  Granted, he still has no idea what he would go by instead. Altaïr and Conner would feel weird, while Sef or Darim are just a bit on the nose, and does he look like an Edward? Malik, maybe. His grandmother here, now, is actually from the Levant, so his skin is certainly dark enough that people wouldn’t be surprised by the name.

Except that feels almost akin to naming himself Leonardo.

--

  So instead, Leonardo spends every spare moment with his best friend, sometimes to brainstorm, sometimes to simply be there for him. It’s during one of these visits, he and Ezio once again observing the youngest assassins in the training ring, that he hears Miles laugh for the first time, and it’s as if ice water has been poured directly into his veins.

  Oh fuck. Oh Saints, oh Holy Father, oh fuck.

  “Leonardo?” Ezio asks quietly, head tilted towards him in concern, but Leonardo ignores him to stumble for the bannister to lean over it and stare down at Miles learning a little jig from Tullio, laughing all the while.

  He had only heard it once, truth be told, and it had been Salaí that had caused it, but even three years later, Leonardo remembers the laugh of Rodrigo Borgia’s sinister little shadow.

  Below, Miles doesn’t stop smiling, but his golden brown gaze yanks up towards Leonardo as if knowing his thoughts are about him. His eyes narrow, then widen slightly in realisation, and then he winces and looks away, which is all the confirmation Leonardo needs.

  Turning around, Leonardo grabs a confused Ezio by the arm and drags him from the training room, ignoring his protests until they find the nearest empty room.

  “Leonardo, what—?”

  “Romulus.”

-

[fbfh]

good news wildcats, I'm finally watching hsmtmts s4. I just finished episode 1 and I am SCREAMING.

toxic ricky is back!!!!!!!!!!! unhinged unstable season 1 ricky my darling!!!! my beloved!!!!!!!!! my pathetic soggy prayers have been answered!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[compacflt]

for todays wip wednesday i thought it would be kind of fun to do a little wips vs final drafts post just to kind of illustrate how far back first drafts can really start. so following the famous 5+1 fanfic format (4+1 cause u can only post 10 pics on mobile)—four wips (left) & their related final drafts (right) + one that is still a wip (bottom two)

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Wen Ying resigns himself to having ~feelings~ for Shouxue with a sort of "this would have happened anyway" vibe (a modern AU would be lovely, but an in-universe also sounds great if you'd prefer that more!)

Also, as someone who's starved for Raven of the Inner Palace fic, I think you're a godsend btw

“Hey roomie—” Whatever he was going to say is abruptly aborted, Dan Hai’s large dog-like eyes rounding above a frown. “Aww, what’s wrong, buddy?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Wen Ying drags himself across the apartment, joints collapsing in on themselves and landing him face first onto the couch.

Dan Hai folds himself over the back of the couch, crowding his space specifically in the way Wen Ying would prefer he does not. “What is it? Something wrong with your squish?”

Wen Ying sighs. Dan Hai’s skills of perception are truly unfair.

“Hmm? What was that? What did you say?”

Wen Ying pulls himself up from the couch cushion, takes a deep breath, and confesses his sins. “I masturbated yesterday.”

The pause is too long, the silence too thick for a man who habitually does not know how to shut up. When he looks up, Dan Hai’s startled expression is waiting for him. “Were you, like, thinking of her? I hate to inform you of this, but that’s pretty standard.”

This is what his life has come to. Getting life advice from this heathen who doesn’t even appreciate the skill it takes to properly play the clarinet.

[candyriku]

finally getting a chance to work on chapter 15 today :-)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Listen. Probably my favorite thing about The Terror is that because the story is one planned out season, the arcs and parallel scenes are set up so cleanly and nicely that it echos.

[radio-4-is-static]

KANASHIBARI | RADWIMPS ft. ao

「一体何回生まれ変わったら」 悲しみなんかも愛せるのかな 一回こっきりの人生一気して 飛び込んだんだ この世のど真ん中 泣きたくなるような君の笑顔とか 明日みたいに光るその声も 君がいないなら意味なんかないから 君に歌う キ ミ ニ ウタウ Love song

///

How many times must I be born before I can learn to love grief？ It’s one-time-only life, so I dived in at one go right into the middle Your smile makes me wanna cry, your voice shines like tomorrow It makes no sense if you’re not here, I’ll sing you, I’ll sing you Love song

[telemcchus]

Snippet from the Falseren fic I am still writing which is now approaching 16k <- I’m going insane a bit. It’s okay tho. For context this is a 1880s inspired setting and false is dressing as a gentleman to pursue her childhood dreams.

Ren has even seen his sisters odd glances at Symmetry— which is not a pleasant thought. As much as he adores the both of them, the relentless teasing he would endure is all but horrifying to imagine. She would corrupt his friend, and turn Symmie against him! Outrageous!

Ren shakes the thoughts away and Symmetry looks up, like a startled gazelle and blinks. “…Is something on your mind Ren?”

“Your hair.” He blurts, without thinking before he adds “I’ve never seen anyone wear it like that…“

‘It was the first thing I noticed about you’ Is what should follow, but his mouth is so dry at the thought of saying something offensive in front of his new friend.

“Because it’s blonde?” He wrings his hair through his fingers soothingly and pouts at him.

“No! Not at all— just the length— Is that common where you’re from?”

“Ah.” He shakes his head. “No, it’s just as unusual there, but my hair grows really fast, and we’ll, I’ve never cut it myself before really.”

[icharchivist]

The scariest thing about the game is how hot everyone is

Also griffin

They all are pretty hot i agree, but this is hilarious to me considering i'm burdened with knowledge.

Like we see all sort of creations that screams "made by Ghilan'nain" the whole trailer and i've been terrified of her since DAI and even more so after reading Tevinter Nights.

Besides those tentacles monsters look too much like some new versions of Broodmothers and :) well :) i'm not thrilled :) about that :)

I wish i wasn't ace enough to relate to you but unfortunately as far as DA is related the sexiest thing about it to me is the lore and the stuff that drove me insane here are on another level.

[emily-mooon]

Nancy Wheeler pookie pie it’s time for me to redraw you as a shoujo manga protag

[heavensbeehall]

I am still upset about the passing of Donald Sutherland. Here is an article from GQ that I like in which he talks about why he begged Gary Ross to give him the role of President Snow.

Nobody asked me to do it [play Snow]. I wasn’t offered it [the role]. I like to read scripts, and it captured my passion. I wrote them a letter. The role of the president had maybe a line in the script. Maybe two. Didn’t make any difference. I thought it was an incredibly important film, and I wanted to be a part of it. I thought it could wake up an electorate that had been dormant since the ’70s. I hadn’t read the books. To be truthful, I was unaware of them. But they showed my letter to the director, Gary Ross, and he thought it’d be a good idea if I did it. He wrote those wonderfully poetic scenes in the rose garden, and they formed the mind and wit of Coriolanus Snow.

in 2017, government documents revealed that Sutherland had been on a NSA watchlist due to his anti-war [Vietnam War] activities. Here's an article where his son, Keifer Sutherland, talks about how the FBI raided their house when he was a kid.

[yandere-writer-momo]

My take on the neglected spouse trope, but with a little spice. Short and to the point

Yandere Batman Shorts: Adorned In Pearls

Yandere Bruce Wayne x Neglected Wife Fem Reader x Yandere Batboys (platonic)

Tw: obsession, unhealthy relationship dynamic, power imbalance, time rewind, imprisonment (implied), death (beginning), and themes that should not be romanticized

“Put the jewels in the bag!” (Your name) didn’t even flinch when the intruder crudely held up his gun to her while she was in the kitchen. It seems her end was finally near at last. “Did you hear me?! Put your jewels in the bag!”

(Your name) calmly turned off the stove top while the intruder kept his voice raised. She had been working on breakfast for her ungrateful husband and her adopted children since they’d be back from patrol in a few hours. Alfred was in the Batcave which left her up here and vulnerable… not that they’d care.

“Let me turn off the stove so you don’t blow the place up if you shoot.” (Your name) calmly told him. She knew this would be a tragic end… and she looked forward to her suffering to end at last.

(Your name) unclasped the pearls from her neck and placed them in the burlap sack the burglar thrusted toward her with one hand. She then made her way to take off each piece of jewelry that was an empty gift from her husband. Even his mother’s ring he gave her for their opulent wedding.

“Code. Safe. Now.” The burglar demanded as he thrusted the gun in her chest.

“0219.” (Your name) calmly stated despite how terrifying the situation was. “It’s in the third room to the right.”

She could not get another word in before a searing pain filled her chest as a loud gunshot rung throughout the house. She glanced down at her chest at the bullet hole that was now through her chest cavity.

The burglar walked off while she sank to the floor in a heap. Her hands went to her phone to make a final call but… she knew no one from this house would answer. (Your name) was always an afterthought, and she believed she would be even in death.

So she dialed 911 and waited for the operator to answer. Her right hand was stained crimson as the viscous blood pooled around her like a grotesque blanket.

Once she heard the operated answer, (your name) cut them off, “There’s been a robber and murder at the Wayne manor.”

(Your name) then hung up and turned her gaze to the ceiling. If there was another life, she would be selfish and live for herself. She wouldn’t rot away like lettuce in the back of a fridge in this manor. No… she would have more respect for herself.

Breathe in… breathe out. She smiled in peace for the first time in years. She was finally free from this lonely nightmare she had been trapped in for nearly two decades. Maybe, she would finally deserve her chance to be loved as much as she loved back.

How was she to know the nightmare only just began?

.

.

.

(Your name) jolted awake, her wine glass nearly slipped from her hand from the sudden movement. A myriad of voices chattered in the opulent restaurant has her eyes glanced around the almost surreal scene.

This was the restaurant she had begged Bruce and the boys to come to for her birthday with her six years ago…

“ Mrs. Wayne, would you like another glass of water?” The familiar waiter came over with a pitiful expression that she had seared into her memory from all those years ago. The look almost every waiter gave her at any venue she went to.

“Actually, I’d like to order.” (Your name) smiled. “It’s my birthday… and I want to celebrate it for once.”

The waiter seemed surprised but happily took her order. This was the first time she had ordered rather than wait for hours for a family that wouldn’t come.

(Your name) smiled to herself, her gaze focused on the complementary wine glass that was brought to her by the wait staff. How sad was it that the stranger showed her more love than her own family?

She had a second chance… and she’d be damned if she wasted it.

.

.

.

After she had long left and enjoyed her meal, a dashing family of five hurriedly arrived to the restaurant.

Bruce Wayne looked slightly disheveled, but that didn’t take away from his charming good looks. The billionaire and his adopted sons hurriedly glanced around the restaurant for any sign of his wife and their mother. He knew she would be here… just like she always was that she waited for them.

They had all been given a second chance when they came home and found her small, lifeless body on the kitchen floor after patrol.

Never had they all cried so much as they cradled her cold, bloody form as they desperately tried to revive her. Each of them begged for another chance to love her properly.

Each of them had spent so much time finding the perfect gift to make up all the lost time up to her and to finally celebrate her birthday like a family… just like she always dreamed.

They had always kept their distance to keep her safe from their enemies. Yet they had instead created a giant misunderstanding. One that they all desperately needed to make up for.

“Do you think mother is still here? I hope she didn’t wait too long…” Damian muttered, his green eyes nervously searched for (your name)’s delicate form.

“She always waits for us. She loves us.” Dick reassured the others, yet they all knew it was more of a self reassurance. “She will be so happy…”

The wait staff seemed surprised but they did give the boys some glares.

“Jeez, what’s their problem?” Jason huffed as he put his hands in his pockets. He didn’t see her anywhere… he had gotten her a wonderful gift for once.

“I can look up her location.” Tim chimed in as he pulled out his phone. “She’s around, I’m sure.

It was Bruce who seemed to search the hardest for her. A bouquet of roses were clenched so hard in his fists that his knuckles turned white. He would make this all right again.

(Your name) was alive once more… and he would make sure she would never die or be hurt by anyone again. She’d be protected and cherished like she deserved.

“I’m sorry, but Mrs. Wayne left hours ago.”

The men all instantly deflated. She left? But she would always be here for hours for them… was there a possibility she returned in time too?

They all went back to the manor in haste. They wanted to celebrate her birthday with her… they wanted to celebrate so much with her. They wouldn’t let her be alone ever again.

.

.

.

(Your name) dipped her feet in the hot tub at the manor with a content sigh. Her lungs deeply inhaled the crisp night air with a dreamy sigh. This felt so peaceful. Why had she never celebrated her birthday like this before?

(Your name) didn’t even flinch when she heard the boys come home. Perhaps patrol ended early? It’s been so many years of being ignored that she hardly knew what went on in their lives.

She slipped the robe off and slid her swimsuit clad body into the comfortably hot water. Another sigh spilled through her lips, her muscles relaxed. This felt like heaven.

(Your name) jumped when Bruce suddenly slid the sliding door open with a loud whack. She was quick to cover her cleavage with her hands despite how this man was her legal husband.

“ Mr. Wayne? What are you doing here-“ Bruce was quick to close the distance and pull her into a hug. The muscular man shook like a leaf as he held her to him. His heart beats so fast, she swore it was about to burst.

“You’re alive… you’re okay…” (Your name) did a double take at his words. When did he ever care about her well-being?

“Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?” There was no way he came back to the past too, right? Her original, neglectful husband would never hold her and bury his nose in her hair like this…

Yet here Bruce Wayne, her infamous billionaire, Playboy husband, was with his face borrowed into her skin. His nose deeply inhaled her scent like she was his favorite flower. He held her as if she was something precious, something he has never done in their two decades of marriage.

“What are you doing?” She asked, but he only held her tighter.

Bruce pulled back to study her face, is blue eyes were dark like a sea storm. His brows were furrowed in worry.

“Hugging my wife.”

A humorless chuckle bubbled from her chest. So now she was his wife? Since when has he treated her as such.

“Is this a joke?” She asked him despite how serious he looked. “I’m just a decorated house pet-“

Her eyes almost popped out of her head when he planted a searing kiss on her lips. A gasp escaped her as his tongue thrust its way into the cavern of her mouth and tasted every inch of it. His hands greedily grasped at her body.

“Wife… my wife.” Bruce whispered against her lips. “My beautiful wife.”

“Mister Wayne-“

“It’s Bruce.” His voice was authoritative as he cut her formalities off.

“…Bruce.” She sighed. “I’m not sure what you want from me.”

“I want you. I want my wife.” (Your name) squealed when h got into the hot tub with her to hair with her. “It’s your birthday today…”

He… he knew her birthday?

“I didn’t think you ever noticed...” She muttered, but he pressed his forehead to hers.

“All these years, we thought we were keeping you safe by keeping a distance. How foolish I was.” Bruce sighed. “You’re safer in our arms, in my arms.”

(Your name) was speechless when he pulled a gift box from his breast pocket and opened it to reveal an exquisite pearl necklace.

“You deserve to be adorned in pearls and jewels. To be pampered by me.” Bruce didn’t give her the chance to move away as he clasped the necklace around her.

Despite its elegance, (your name) couldn’t help the dread that pulled in her stomach. She could not stop the feeling that this pearl necklace was nothing more than a magnificent collar.

“You look so beautiful in those pearls… they were my mother’s, you know.” Bruce hummed as he picked her up and placed her on the edge of the hot tub.

Bruce placed her robe back over her form.

“Let’s get changed and go celebrate your birthday properly with the boys. They really want to see their mother.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “and after that, I think you and I can finally make up for all the lost time.”

(Your name) felt a tear roll down her face that Bruce took as a tear of joy. Yet only she knew the truth.

She had believed she would escape and find her own happiness, now she realize she would never escape this gilded cage.

[happyfeetfuryroad]

This is one of those Jimmy Neutron sodium chloride moments where I'm like. Really frustrated because some people who are in scientific fields choose to be pedantic for pedantry's sake and forget how human language works in the process.

Definitions are human-made and exist based entirely on their purpose in whatever context you're considering. The distinction between "blue as a result of the presence of pigment" and "blue as the result of texture" is relevant in some contexts, and irrelevant in others. It's like using months instead of years to describe a baby's age: useful and appropriate when you're talking to your pediatrician, mildly inconvenient to slightly annoying when you're talking to someone who was just trying to make casual conversation and asked how old your baby is.

Is it useful, in some contexts, to keep in mind that a blue object doesn't always contain any blue pigment? Sure, absolutely! But is it always appropriate to say "actually, such and such isn't actually blue"? Not necessarily! The way we colloquially assign colors to objects doesn't depend on the inherent physical or chemical properties of that object, but on what wavelengths end up hitting our retinas and send signals to our visual cortices. In that regard, our eyes don't give a flying fuck how that color was generated - the end result is what is meaningful in a general context. Otherwise, we could start being equally pedantic about iridescence because "actually, this substance doesn't contain a pigment for every single color of the rainbow, it's just an illusion due to its microscopical structure". Which doesn't really enhance our understanding of the world so much as it unfairly associates common parlance with ignorance.

And it really is unfair, when you think about it. Language is malleable, and definitions are context-dependent. Why is a scientist's first instinct to go "well akschwally," instead of holding onto that same curiosity that drove them to their field and asking themselves "why is it that some distinctions are acceptable in my field of study, but elicit a negative emotional response in some people outside of it?"? It's easy to dismiss the problem as "oh this society has a literacy problem" or "oh they're just being reactionary" or "oh how sad, they don't value knowledge the same way I do". But sometimes, maybe, it is you who still has some things to learn about how humans work. Give people the grace they deserve. Human curiosity isn't the exclusive intellectual property of the scientific community.