#causing destruction everywhere he goes.

[ttathinker]

cause we don't give a fuck 👌

[fairuzfan]

But the other images I had was like a mass refugee camp. So basically at that point in time, two months ago, about 20,000 people had sought refuge both in the hospital and outside the hospital. And these weren’t tents. They’re still not tents. They’re makeshift shelters with bed sheets or plastic bag sheets. The ones outside sleep on the floor. They’re lucky [if] they get a carpet or a mat. There was one bathroom at the time for about 200 people that they have to share. And inside, the hallways of the hospital were also made into shelters. There was hardly any room to walk, and there’s children running around everywhere. It’s important to remember all these people were not homeless. They all had homes that were destroyed. They’re all displaced people that took shelter in the hospital.

So that’s the kind of mass chaos that I encountered initially, and then I was told that every time there’s a bomb, give it about 15 minutes and the mass casualties come. That was the other thing that at the time shocked me: What we’d been seeing livestreamed on Instagram, on social media or whatever, I actually saw myself and it was worse than I can imagine. I saw scenes that were horrific that I’d never witnessed before and I never want to see again. You have a mother walking in holding her 8, 9-year-old, skinny — because they’re all starving — boy who’s dead, he’s cold and dead and [the mother is] screaming, asking for someone to check his pulse and everybody’s busy in the mass chaos. So that was kind of my initial welcoming scene when I entered Khan Younis the first time.

{...}

What I saw — I’m an eye surgeon, an eye plastic surgeon, and so I saw the classic, what I penned “the Gaza shrapnel face,” because in an explosive scenario, you don’t know what’s coming. When there’s an explosion, you don’t go like this [cover your face], you kind of actually, in fact, open your eyes. And so shrapnel’s everywhere. It’s a well-known fact that the Israeli forces are experimenting [with] weapons in Gaza to boost their weapon manufacturing industry. Because if a weapon is battle-tested, it’s more valuable, isn’t it? It’s got a higher value. So basically they’re using these weapons, these missiles that purposely, intently create these large shrapnel fragments that go everywhere. And they cause amputations that are unusual.

Most amputations occur at the weak points, the elbow or the knee, and so they’re better tolerated. But these [shrapnel fragments] are causing mid-thigh, mid-arm amputations that are more difficult, more challenging, and also the rehabilitation afterward is also more challenging. Also these shrapnels [are] unlike a bullet wound. A bullet wound goes in and out; there’s an entry and exit point. Shrapnel stays there. So you gotta take it out. So the injuries I saw were — I mean, I saw people with their eyes blown apart. And when I was there, and this is my experience, I treated all children when I was there the first time. It was kids that [were aged] 2, 6, 9, 10, 13, 15, and 16, and 17 were the ones that I treated. And their eyes unfortunately had to be removed. They had shrapnel in their eye sockets that I had to remove and, of course, remove the eye. There’s many patients, many children who had shrapnel in both their eyes. And you can only do so much because right now, because of the aid blockade and because of the destruction of most of Gaza, there’s no equipment available to take shrapnel that’s in the eye out. And so we just leave them alone and they eventually go blind.

{...}

I was on the ground, I toured the refugee camps, I went around Rafah, I saw, and if there’s an Israeli invasion, I can’t emphasize enough how catastrophic it’s going to be. It’ll be mass killing, mass destruction, because all these figures come in, 50 dead, 100 wounded. But what people don’t realize is, being wounded is a death sentence. Being wounded in this environment with no health care system, completely collapsed, is a death sentence. And the wounded often will lose everybody, like all family members, so they have no supports, especially children, have nobody left to take care of them, not even aunts and uncles. It will be catastrophic. I don’t know what to say to the world to stop an impending invasion. You’ve got to rein this prime minister of Israel in. You got to do something to stop this stupid invasion that he still wants to do, because it’ll be catastrophic.

{...}

I had one young man, about 25 years old, he lost one eye that I took out myself. He spent about five, six, or seven years, basically spent thousands and thousands of dollars in IVF treatment because he got married young and they wanted to have a child and they couldn’t have one. So he spent years on IVF treatment and finally had a baby that was 3 months old. And there was a missile attack by Israel at his home. He lost his entire family, including his baby and his wife and his parents and family. He’s by himself, single guy. I took his one eye out, and he has nobody in this world. He just kind of walks around the tent structures, just kind of walking around with no home and trying to sleep wherever he can.

[j-psilas]

Will we ever get anything quite like Code Geass again?

I don't think it's possible.

Code Geass is Japanese nationalist propaganda disguised as a global political drama, disguised as a military mecha show, disguised as yaoibait, disguised as a teen melodrama, disguised as a high school romcom, disguised as a Pizza Hut commercial...

...except those layers aren't layers at all, but are instead comingled in a giant snake ball of insanity.

The lead writer, Ichirō Ōkouchi, only ever worked as an episode writer for other shows prior to Code Geass, and never took the helm of an anime series ever again. And it shows. [EDIT: Several people have pointed out his other lead writing credits to me. So I misread Wikipedia—sue me. I maintain that this guy is a better episode writer than he is a lead writer.]

The minute-to-minute pacing is impeccable from a mechanical standpoint, with tension and stakes rising to ever-higher peaks, balanced out by the slow simmers of the b-plot and c-plot. It keeps the viewer on the edge of their seat at all times. Meanwhile, the large-scale plot is the most off-the-wall middle school nonsense I've ever seen, continually surprising the viewer by pulling twists too dumb to have ever have been on their radar—and therefore more effective in terms of raw shock value.

"Greenlight it!" was the mantra of this anime's production. It must have been. It has, in no particular order, all of the following:

Character designs from CLAMP, the foremost yaoi/BL group in Japan at the time—for characters who are only queer insofar as they can bait the audience, and only straight insofar as they can be more misogynist to the female cast.

Speaking of the female cast, hoo boy the fanservice. We've all seen anime girls breast boobily, with many cases more egregious than Code Geass, but there's something special about it happening immediately after—or sometimes in the middle of!—scenes of military conflict and ethnic cleansing.

Pizza Hut product placement everywhere, in every conceivable situation. High-speed chases, light slice-of-life scenes, intimate character moments, all of it. Gotta have Pizza Hut.

The anime-only Pizza Hut mascot, Cheese-kun. He wears a fedora.

The most hilarious approximations of European names—which I would love to see more often, frankly. Names like, I dunno, "Count Schnitzelgrübe zi Blanquezzio."

A depiction of China that is wholly removed from any modern reality, with red-and-gold pagodas, ornamental robes, scheming eunuchs, and a brainwashed child empress. There's a character named General Tsao, like the chicken.

Inappropriate free-form jazz in the soundtrack, intruding at the most unexpected times.

A secret cabal not unlike the Illuminati, run by an immortal shota with magic powers, holding influence all across the world, at the highest levels of government. They matter for approximately three episodes.

An unexpected insert scene of a schoolgirl using the corner of a table to masturbate. She's doing it to thoughts of her crush, the princess Euphemia—because she believes Euphemia to be as racist as she herself is, and that gets her off. This interrupts an unrelated scene of our protagonist faction planning their next move, which then resumes as if uninterrupted.

Said schoolgirl, in a fit of hysteria, threatens to detonate a worse-than-nuclear bomb in the middle of her school. She then goes on to develop an even more destructive version of that bomb, and become a war criminal, in a chain of cause-and-effect stemming from the moment she finds out that Euphemia wasn't actually that racist.

A character called "the Earl of Pudding."

A premise that asks us to believe that the name Lelouch is normal enough that he didn't need to change it when he went into hiding as an ordinary civilian. "No, that's not Prince Strimbleford von Vanquish! That's our classmate, Strimbleford Smith."

The collective unconscious, a la Carl Jung, within which the protagonist fights his villainous father for control over the fate of humankind. After this is over, the anime just keeps going for about ten more episodes.

An episode in which a mech tosses a giant pizza.

A gay yandere sleeper agent who can manipulate the perception of time.

Chess being played very badly, even to the untrained eye. Lelouch frequently checkmates his opponent by moving his king. This goes hand-in-hand with the anime's crock of bad chess symbolism.

A fictional drug that can most succinctly be described as "nostalgia heroin."

Roller-skating mecha in knightly armor, and some of the most sickass mecha fight choreography that I've seen.

I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture. This anime is what the average Westerner in 2006 thought anime was, and it was made in a confluence of factors that cannot be replicated. I've never had so much fun watching something that I found so... insulting. Repugnant. Ridiculous. Baffling. I love it sincerely.

Catch me cosplaying Lloyd Asplund at a con sometime, or maybe even the big gay loser himself, Lelouch vi Britannia.

[lemon-slushie]

EPIPHYLLUM IS SO BACK ‼️‼️‼️‼️

My boinky

Her lore if u want it!

She’s the daughter/creation of millennial tree and sugar swan from an epiphyllum flower (the one on the back of her head, it’s a part of her body), but most of her magic comes from millennial tree, such as creating plant life and such(bring back Mary sues)

She created the beast yeast forest before it was used as a prison for the beasts, the forest was originally named the midnight star forest (Epiphyllums bloom at night and wilt at day) The forest was dense and beautiful with large trees that blocked out the sun and glowing spores that lit up the dim floor under the trees. As she continued crafting it cookies began visiting and soon inhabiting it.

- she spent years putting together her forest and caring for the life within it, it was quite the sight to see before the witches forced the beast prisons into it. The magic and chaos that seeped from the beast prisons greatly impacted her forest causing many of her creatures to become hostile, this also dampened her magic immensely

After the beast were added Epiphyllum did the best she could to defend her cookies and return everything to its original state but due to her magic weakening it was of no use, eventually all of the cookies who once lived there quickly evacuated, except for the new faerie kingdom ofc, and began warning all travelers of the evil in the forest

This quickly caused many rumors and tales that twisted the truth of Epiphyllums forest and caused it to become a sort of myth as years passed, the original name being lost to time and becoming known as “beast yeast” to anyone who heard of it

Epiphyllum was absolutely crushed, all of her work and care ripped from her, her forest was her pride and joy

- she specifically dislikes elder faerie because she’s envious of him. After all the destruction from the beasts he still has a lively and glowing kingdom, every time she sees it her heart aches for what she once had.

Years pass and Epiphyllum still roams the forest with her butterfly lantern because she still cannot bare to part with it, clinging to the hope she can fix it. She’s tried to get help from both her parents, and while it works temporarily it never stays. They cannot devote all of their time to a lost cause. But Epiphyllum still holds out hope that she can fix it and all of her cookies will return to her and life will go back to what it once was.

After years of loneliness something happens, White Lily finds beast yeast, and she is excited to be there. Happy to see all of the life in the forest. Epiphyllum is enthralled to see someone find the beauty in her forest once more, even with how much it’s fallen. She quickly befriends white lily, guiding her safely through the forest and chatting with her about everything she’s made. White lily is genuinely interested and happy to speak to her, Epiphyllum is over joyed.

- She has spent that past years alone and working and to finally have someone who notices fills her heart. She’s happy. She takes white lily everywhere she can think of, her old villages, springs, flower fields, all of it. Maybe it was her intense loneliness but she falls quick for white lily, she loves how curious she is and how they talk for hours.

eventually white lily finds silver bell and goes the faerie kingdom, epiphyllum stays behind, still holding a grudge.

- Epiphyllum is sad to see white lily take more interest in the faerie kingdom but doesn’t say anything, she’s happy as long as white lily is. She occasionally enters the kingdom to check in on lily and talk to her and hang out but always returns to her forest, refusing to stay as the faeries are also quite awkward around her as in the past she lurked around their walls and would very rarely speak to elder faerie if he approached her first.

- When visiting white lily she noticed her bond with elder faerie had grown quite a lot, this only deepened her disdain for him, but once again she allowed it to slip by because white lily was happy

One day Epiphyllum entered the kingdom to see white lily but was stopped by elder faerie, telling her white lily had left to go the gathering of witches.

- Epiphyllum quickly becomes enraged, yelling at elder faerie for letting her basically walk into her own death. She doesn’t care what defense he has and quickly storms out and desperately searching her forest in hopes to find her before it’s too late but instead she finds nothing. She now truly resents elder faerie and blames him completely for the loss of white lily.

after dark enchantress is created and white lily is comatose in the faerie kingdom Epiphyllum can be frequently found at her casket. Elder faerie told her about the casket, as he felt it was wrong to not let her know since he knew she cared about her deeply. He’s tried talking to her since and offers to let her stay in the kingdom so she isn’t lonely. These only end in arguments as Epiphyllum cannot bring herself to forgive him and wants nothing to do with him or his ungrateful kingdom.

Then ofc white lily wakes up and the beast yeast story happens. Epiphyllum is ecstatic to see her back but hesitates as she watches her interact with pure vanilla and elder faerie, seeing how happy she is without her and the way she talks about pure vanilla hurts her. All she wants is white lily but she knows white lily needs more than her.

She sinks back into her forest and watches as it crumbles further from the magic of dark enchantresses creations and the beasts waking up and breaking free from their prisons

- Wind archer finds her after being sent to beast yeast and gives her a reality check, her forest is no longer hers and never will be again and staying there is wilting and killing her, she needs to leave or she can die having wasted her life on something that doesn’t exist anymore

- After a bit of denial she gives in and returns to the millennial forest where she goes into a deep rest to regain her power

[marlair]

a thousand faces in a thousand places

synopsis: the housewardens with a Sparkle (from honkai: star rail) reader. (headcanons)

gn!reader + reader is not yuu

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

uhm! 😨 (scared)

there is not a single universe where this man, pre-overblot, did not hate you.

so, how did you two meet? considering your mysterious, yet still childish personality- you probably got sorted into heartslabyul!

you’re basically like alice but.. so. much. worse. 

pre-overblot he’d, most likely, be very cross with you.

do you know how many times you’ve been off-with-your-head-ed? because it’s happened a LOT. and i mean, a lot a lot.

you were in and out of everywhere, were rather cryptic, and had a strong mischievous streak.

how could he NOT be annoyed? smh.

though, post-overblot, i think he’d be more relaxed.

of course, he’d still be exasperated, but not to the level of annoyance he had before. progress, woop woop !!!

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

i am still scared. not for you, but for leona.

he’d be annoyed, i suppose. you’re like a creepy, more out there, more literally insane version of ruggie.

so, how did you two meet? it’s similar to how yuu and the lion met, actually. except.. there’s kind of a difference.

whereas yuu stepped on his tail (by accident!), causing leona to go “ooh i’m gonna eat you” like a shark on steroids, YOU were the one who.. tried to eat him.

picture this, leona sleeping on the botanical garden, you seeing his tail and immediately going

how romantic a meeting! be still, my heart! meetcute who?

you immediately started laughing hysterically when his startled awake gaze met your terribly amused eyes, so the impression you left to him.. eh.

you probably started a “Call Leona ‘Unca Weona’” trend on MagiTok (that cater undoubtedly joined in on), so he’s probably pretty annoyed at you.

— you’ve also probably used his money to fund some performances.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

“you have bewitched me body and soul. 🤩” “HOW DID YOU GET INTO MY HOUSE”

he’s probably mildly terrified of you and your absolutely horrendous schemes.

so, how did this lovely pair meet? WELL.

azul, doing paperwork in his office or whatever he does, looking like he sniffs lint, jolts when jade enters abruptly.

it’s unlike the eel’s usual respectful manner, so he’s pretty confused, immediately going “what is it?”

a sheepish jade smiles awkwardly and goes to say something like, “blah blah vanished into thin air before they could pay.”

azul is BEWILDERED. vanished??

so, obviously, righteously wanting his money, he tells jade and floyd to go look for you.

they did not find you.

fun.

KALIM AL-ASIM

he has a new bestie now!

you two are great friends, your chaotic (one more so than the other) tendencies and fun-loving personalities make you a great pair.

jamil would say otherwise.

you two go on happy little excursions around the campus, terrorizing a few people here and there, and honestly just having the time of your lives.

he was so glad you weren’t his friend just for his wealth, but because you liked his personality as he liked yours.

though, you, as someone who can only have their interest piqued by amusement, didn’t understand why he’d think you were using him.

you wear the most stupid matching shirts (that kalim bought and jamil tacitly approved) and walk around, happily playing and leaving only destruction in your wake.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

you’re fashionable, he likes you.

with your skill in acting, you’re probably in the film studies club, which is most likely how you two met.

he admires your.. cough, dedication. and he also thinks your personality is a bit (is it?👀).

“your dedication to being you is admirable.” “hehe thanks but wtf🥰”

as literally everyone is, kalim not included, he’s pretty exasperated by your chaos-causing tendencies and unhinged personality.

illusion magic is your jam, so just imagine how shocked he was when looking into his mirror and seeing your evilly-grinning visage instead of his own face.

(rook approves.)

talking about rook, a curious vil had asked the hunter to.. stalk you for a while, because he was confused if you were really the person you portrayed yourself as.

a laughing rook gave the report that you had found him out and asked if he was close to his housewarden because he stripped himself naked and apologized for his crime of liking neige.

vil is flabbergasted.

IDIA SHROUD

on one hand, he’s terrified, and on the other- he thinks you’re funny.

you come up with the most unhinged insults, and you always get the last word- he thinks you’re admirable.

your level of extrovertness is shocking to him.

first kalim, now you? he is Shaking His Head™.

how you first met doesn’t matter, what matters is what he accidentally said when first meeting you and having a good short chat.

“mesugaki..” he mumbled in the middle of your sentence.

your ears were good. his ears were working well enough to hear his own damn self.

he wants to cry. he wants to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it.

“hikikomori.” you immediately responded.

critical hit! idia will have to stay inside his room for three weeks, tell ortho he loves him..

you’d say you two get along well, idia would say otherwise.

MALLEUS DRACONIA

he enjoys your rambunctious personality. he’s normally chilling quietly in the corner, so having you drag him around probably does wonders for how people see him.

he approves (sebek does NOT).

he’s sometimes concerned. he knows humans don’t live long, will you Doing What You Do somehow make your lifespan even shorter? 

you’re just being you and he’s standing menacingly right beside you. imagine how that looks to other people.

your local terrorist gremlin and THE malleus draconia. standing next to eachother. chilling.

you probably call him “that guy with the horns”, or something more animal aligned.

like “ram horns boy”. 

lilia probably laughed at it, silver didn’t know if he should’ve felt offended for malleus or if it was a friendly joke, and sebek is going to use it as a horror story for the future generations of his family.

you’re just causing chaos and he’s there like 🧍😄

[risedarksideau]

Introducing…

Hamato Raphael (18) After the invasion, Raph gets a whole lot of nightmares about the Krang and is always overwhelmed, which leads to him occasionally losing his temper. | After Splinter’s death, he finds a mysterious box in Splinter’s room that contains his journal, family scrolls, and secrets. He helps Donnie with translations while simultaneously managing his nightmares, temper, and making sure his brother’s don’t get killed (mainly Leo). Eventually, Raph discovers that he can tame Krang-infected people and makes the infected Foot Clan his family's guard dogs. This allows Raph to regain some sort of control over his trauma.

Hamato Leonardo (17) After the invasion, Leo starts going out at night to look for trouble. He starts to believe that death and destruction follows him everywhere he goes. It starts with fighting bad guys, but he gradually starts blurring the lines between bad and good. | After Splinter’s death, Leo adopts the persona of Death and really leans into this character. He goes looking for suspects and uses unethical methods to get answers. After he learns the truth about the Hamato Clan, he feels less guilty about what he’s doing. 

Hamato Donatello (17) After the invasion, Donnie coops himself up in his room and stays up most of the night tinkering with strange objects. He suffers from migraines, which is a side effect of integrating with the Krang ship. | After Splinter’s death, he switches focus and almost obsesses over the Hamato scrolls, which he’s tasked with translating. After knowing the truth about the Hamato Clan, he will find and utilize scraps from the Krang ship that crashed into Earth to build something that will ensure his family is protected. During this process, there is an explosion that causes Donnie to hallucinate.

Hamato Michelangelo (16) After the invasion, Mikey’s adjusting to his injuries and starts drawing Krang symbols in his art. | After Splinter’s death, his drawings become more vivid as his mental state declines. After uncovering the truth about the Hamato Clan, Mikey convinces himself that everything bad that happened to their family was for a reason. He seeks comfort in the Krang and will view them as holy beings whom he'll worship.

Yuichi Usagi (17) Usagi is on a mission to hunt down the man who had destroyed his village, and his family. He hires Murakami Gennosuke to help him track down and kill Hamato Yoshi. | After the deed is done, he meets Leo and helps him search for his father’s killer without knowing that Leo is Yoshi’s son. When Usagi finds out the truth about Leo, he’ll attempt to kill him. Usagi is afraid of the dark because he can hear the screams of his burning village.

Additional context:

Splinter has a secret box that is basically like an archive of all the bad things that the Hamato Clan has done in the past (I'll probably make a separate post that dives into the family lore). 6 months after the invasion, Splinter is killed by Usagi.

This post is describing what the turtles go through immediately after the invasion, when Splinter is killed, and the aftermath of uncovering their dark family secrets.

[ephemeral--dreams]

blood and grenadine

Scar/Reader

Word count: 1,531

Rating: M

Warnings: Scar is his own warning...!

Notes: feral cat reader who cannot accept affection is very important to me thanks. anyway I haven't stopped thinking about scar for a month. get him out of my head

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

You grit your teeth. It's getting tiring, the way he kept doing this. No, it is stressful. The way he goes around taking people you care about or causing mass destruction to get your attention. You worry that he's going to end up killing someone before you ever get there to confront him. Someone could get hurt, and it'll be your fault, because he's only targeting them because of his obsession with you. You wish he'd just come after you directly instead of doing all this. You don't like these little games he plays.

It's a typical but no less frustrating sight to show up to fire everywhere and screaming and him waiting for you expectantly. His head tilts. “What a coincidence. I've been expecting you.”

“Don't call it a coincidence when you did this on purpose,” it comes out scathing, sharp. He only smiles pleasantly.

“Why stop doing something that brings results? You should stop giving me what I want by showing up. You're conditioning me~”

“You can't-” you look away, trying not to simmer in your own guilt. It's stupid. You know it. He'd caused chaos before you and he'd do it whether you came or not. But you still feel as if it's your fault. If you could manage to stop him then these things wouldn't keep happening, but he always seems to get away after he has his fun. “What do I have to do to make you stop, then?”

It's worth a try. Maybe there's something he wants. Something you can get for him or… you don't know. Anything.

“Stop?” he laughs, as if the very idea is absolutely hilarious to him. Some thin thread inside of you snaps. You can't do this anymore. This cycle of violence. Innocent people getting hurt. The feeling of being helpless against it all.

“This is about me, isn't it? Then come after me. You want to fight? Then I will fight you. You want to hurt someone? Hurt me. Leave out the extra steps to get my attention. You don't need to involve anyone else.”

He's silent for a long moment as he stares at you. It's unusual for him to stop talking. But there's some sort of interest. That's what you're betting on. 

“Do you have any idea what you're offering?”

“I'm offering whatever you want.”

The expression that spreads across his face sends a shiver down your spine, his grin razorblade sharp conflicting with the strange infatuation in his eyes as he steps closer, heat radiating as he steps into your space. You resist the urge to step back. “You. Be mine for the night, and everyone here gets to run free! Isn't it a fair deal?”

There's all kinds of implications there that you don't like. God only knows what exactly he plans to do. Giving him free reign over you for even a night is a terrible, terrible idea. But does your safety really matter in comparison to that of others?

It doesn't. 

“...Fine. It's a deal.”

“You've made an excellent choice, little lamb. Let's not waste time,” the portal opens before you are given even a single chance to second guess, a hand on your shoulder coaxing you through. “Come, come. We'll have a good time, I promise. You'll want to join me when I'm done with you~”

☆

You're so tense. You always are. It's one of the easiest things to notice about you. Though it's rather troublesome when what he needs from you is for you to trust him, let him get into your head. 

“...What do you want me to do,” you ask the moment you're both through the portal, not even a moment to get your bearings. Straight to business. 

"Patience, dearest," Scar murmurs, hand still wrapped around yours in a one-sided grip as he leads you through the maze of halls. "First, we must prepare. Sometimes in order to experience the best in life, you have to shed the old.”

Your silence is uneasy, terse. You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, he can tell. It's like you think he's going to do something awful! As if he would, now that he's finally gotten a chance to get his hands on you in a way that isn't a mere fight. You simply don't appreciate how much effort he goes to just to get you to look at him. You act as if he's always out to torment you for the sake of it. 

Which he's not. His intentions are so clear! How haven't you realized it yet? The obliviousness is as endearing as it is frustrating. It's because you don't think of anything but the weight of the world. Stupid, overly self sacrificial little lamb. Not tonight.

He tugs you through his bedroom to the connecting bathroom. You stand in the corner watching warily as he sets the faucet on the tub running, debating which of the oils he wants to put in. What would you like? He knows so much about you but not such simple things. If only you weren't so resistant. He puts in what reminds him most of your perfume after a long moment of contemplation. Then he moved to light some candles. Too dark in here. Scar paid attention to every detail, setting the mood for the evening.

The water steams as he shuts off the stream. He turns to you expectantly, then moves to guide you over himself when you don't come over. “Well?” If you're not going to undress yourself he has no issue helping you along. 

You look at him. You look at the water. You look back. Suspicious. Hmph. You think a simple bath is an attempt to drown you, is that it? What a warped imagination. He's never met someone so overly cautious. “Little lamb, it's just a bath. You've got ash on you from all that chaos earlier, hm? Get in, come on.”

You look no less defensive over it, movements stiff as you obey regardless, clothing neatly folded as it is removed before you sink into the water with the kind of hesitance that feels entirely out of place for what is supposed to be a moment of relaxation. That's all it is. He just wants to ease the tension. That's it! 

He thinks that it's a good thing the tub is big enough for two, as he strips and slips in behind you. 

"Little lamb, relax," Scar's voice is quiet, his hands on your shoulders, kneading them. All the while, you remain stiff, a contrast to the warmth of the water. You really think he's going to harm you, don't you? Skittish. Perhaps that's not so surprising, but.. He lets out a soft sigh. Adorable, but so difficult. “Enjoy it. I’m not the grasping hand all the time, dearest.”

“You're a violent maniac,” is all you say in response.

“And you're too tense,” He feels a bit like he's coaxing a feral cat into accepting affection. It's as endearing as it is pitiful. Do you even know how to relax, he wonders? With how much you burden yourself with things he wouldn't be surprised if the answer was no. You almost seem more distressed when he's here being gentle with you than when he tries to attack you. As if it's all a complete and utter shock to your system. “It would do you good to let go of things. You can't can't carry so much weight forever, you know.”

You let out a quiet huff, but are otherwise silent. Is the idea really so preposterous to you? 

A little of the tension starts to ease from your body under his attention eventually, though. The slightest bit. But it is a step in the right direction. He's got his work cut out for him if he ever wants to get you to love him back, now doesn't he?

“This isn't a battlefield. I don't intend to hurt you tonight. Alright? I just wanted some alone time with you. You can calm down. You've got to give me a chance, dear~”

You tilt your head to look back at him balefully. “Maybe if you stopped causing me stress…”

“Poor little lamb,” he coos, hands still rubbing over your back. “Does it upset you that much?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Then I'll break into your house next time I want to see you. Then you can't complain. Yes?” Let it not be said that he can't compromise. 

“I- fine. Whatever. Just don't attack anyone. Please.”

“Please? Are we pleading now? How cute. But alright,” Scar leans down to kiss the top of your head. You tense again. “Shh, shh, let it happen~ Don't go all stiff again now.”

“What do you want.”

“I want you to be mine, of course. But I'll accept it if you stop acting like I'm going to stab you in the back every time I touch you, for now.”

“...A tall order.”

“We have all night.”

You sigh. “Try your best, then,” it's all the acquiescence you will offer to his intent. But Scar will take it.

He has you in his grasp now. It's only a matter of time before he gets your heart. 

[gaymaramada]

‼️ EPIC: VENGEANCE SAGA SPOILERS ‼️

I have no clue how I would interpret 600 strike as an animatic if I could but I at least have an idea of the final confrontation:

⚠️TW: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE⚠️

First off, Poseidon is NOT as helpless and just letting Odysseus torture him — in fact, he does try to fight back, but he’s still reeling from Odysseus’ power move (whatever that would be), and it doesn’t help that, once Odysseus stabs him and knocks him down, he takes out his legs immediately. I don’t mean just stabbing them or breaking bones — I’m talking TEARING THEM OFF ENTIRELY.

If a god is going to be bested by a mortal, there’d better be a healthy serving of gore. Odysseus isn’t just stabbing him over and over �� he’s going for the heart, then the throat, then the stomach. He’s shattering Poseidon’s ribs as he tears through his lungs, causing them to flood with blood. He’s twisting the trident where it’s lodged inside his abdomen, gathering his intestines. He’s stabbing ALL THE WAY through his neck so it juts out from the other side, nearly beheading him. Odysseus is mutilating him.

And Poseidon? Oh, he is furious. How could he have let himself be bested by this arrogant, self-righteous, unapologetic rat? And more importantly, why is he still fighting? Has he not broken already, even after all this time? He should be begging for death! He should hate everything about himself! He shouldn’t be fighting for his life! He goes as far as to call Odysseus a monster not out of horror, but in the hopes that it will reach under his skin and make him falter. It doesn’t.

To me, Poseidon’s pleas aren’t frightened, they’re frustrated. Him saying, “Enough, stop, stop!” is more akin to an adult losing their patience with a child having a tantrum. It’s annoyance with the screams, cries, and destruction to the point that he’s throwing his hands in the air like, “I give up!” Or, more accurately, grabbing the trident’s blade with bloodied hands before it can land another blow and yelling, “ALRIGHT!”

But Odysseus doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop pushing the trident forward into Poseidon’s chest. He’s glaring at Poseidon with such vitriolic hatred, but there’s also another look in his eyes — an expectant look.

Because Odysseus wants to hear the god beg.

And so — tired, frustrated, and beaten — Poseidon bites the bullet, gritting his teeth through his humiliation and fury as he says, barely audible, “Please…”

The sky clears, and finally, Odysseus drops the trident.

I just really vibe with the idea of Poseidon not cowering before Odysseus, but more behaving like a predator would with difficult prey — bro is angry, humiliated, and bleeding from like EVERYWHERE. Shit ain’t worth it. If he wasn’t tired when Odysseus asked earlier, he sure is now.

[blurryhowlett]

Home is whenever I’m with you

——————————————

Logan gave up on trying to find a home a long time ago. From running away from his childhood home, to having to leave his cabin hidden away in the Canadian mountains, to coming back to the only home he had and to see his family slaughtered.. Logan had finally just accepted that he was not made to have a home.

Logan believed that all he was and what he will ever be is just a weapon. A form of chaos and violence that will follow him everywhere he goes. He wasn’t safe to be around, he was a failure, all he’s good at and will ever be good at is causing destruction. He was no hero, never mind being apart of the X-men. His X-men weren’t even alive because of him, their blood will forever be on his hands. He’s the worst Wolverine after all, the only name that sounded fitting for him.

He lost everyone. He lost Hank, Jean, Scott, Kurt- god, if he keeps going on like this, he thinks he might break down and Logan wasn’t a big fan of crying but yet, his throat was closing up and it burned worse than the straight vodka he chugs almost on a daily basis because whiskey just stopped being strong for him.

‘Logan..’ He could hear Jean’s voice echo in his head, or maybe it was Hank’s, was it Kurt?

‘Logan..?’

No, that voice was not fitting any of his family’s voices.

‘Peanut?’

Wait, he was never called such a ridiculous nickname by any of them.

“Are you spacing out on me again?”

Logan blinks away tears he didn’t even know that he had, finally coming back to the real life world. Logan had been having bad issues of dissociating, even if he didn’t know that word until he met Wade which told him that’s exactly what Logan does as another way of coping with all of his trauma. Though, Logan wasn’t big on fancy words.

“Jesus, Peanut, are you crying? This isn’t even a sad episode.” Wade speaks up again, leaning over from his side of the couch with a hint of concern in his voice. Now Logan officially snaps out of it and sees that he’s in the cramped living room of Wade’s shared apartment with blind Al, (even if he still believed that it was incredibly rude to call her that, ironic since Logan wasn’t much better and was an asshole all the time) it was probably around nine at night, the living room dark with the only source of light coming off from the tv that was playing golden girls.

“I’m not crying.” Logan finally speaks up when he collects himself, letting out a sniff as if he needed some sort of proof that maybe this was just some sort of allergies. It was true though, Logan may of gotten a bit teary eye for a second but he was *not* crying.

“Yeah, sure, alright.” Wade says, not going to push it further, he would push his buttons in many others ways and speaking of buttons, Wade would love to undo Logan’s buttons with his teeth and- okay, maybe he should calm down.

“When are you going to bed? You’re taking up the whole couch.” Logan grumbles out, knowing that his bed was the small couch in the apartment that barely fits him.

“Bed?” Wade questions him as he lets out a snort, “I’m not even done with the episode! I thought we were doing a golden girls marathon!”

“Yeah, I didn’t fucking agree to that.” Logan tells him, picking up the half empty beer bottle on the floor next to the couch and takes a swing of whatever was left in it. “I’m tired, Wade. Call it a night, will you?”

This was him pushing Wade away yet again, falling into the deepest part of his mind and now needing isolation. Besides, he was a grown man and he can do whatever the hell he wants with his feelings. If that meant drinking away his sorrows and keeping himself alone so his thoughts could eat him alive- he will. Logan didn’t need a babysitter or a therapist which he felt like Wade was trying to be both most of the time.

Don’t get Logan wrong, he was grateful that Wade was letting him crash on his couch. He may be an asshole but he’s not greedy and as much as he wants to complain how he feels his spine is slowly bending into him having full on scoliosis- he just won’t. Though, Wade sometimes makes him want to blow his brains out, not that it would help because he would just get back up in a minute or two and then have to deal with a throbbing headache. Turns out, a healing factor doesn’t take away any headaches and he’s learned that from many hangovers.

“Call it a night? It’s nine! Come on, I know you’re an old man but do you really gotta start acting like one?” Wade whines out to him, slumping back into the couch just to show that he wasn’t moving. Logan only lets out a grunt, placing the now empty beer bottle back onto the floor as he shoots Wade a look. “I’m not acting like anything, I’m tired.”

“Oh bullshit.” Wade tells him and it comes out in such a way that it makes Logan flinch.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You think I’m lying about being tired? I’m always tired.”

“I know you are, I wish you would just talk about it.” Wade told him, giving him the shrug of the shoulders as Logan grows confused. “Talk about how tired I am? I just did, I’m ready to go to bed and this couch is my bed so get your ass up and turn the tv off.”

“Woah, woah, no need to get so hostile.” Wade tells him, putting his hands up in a mock surrender but he still doesn’t budge. It’s only been a few months since the two of them had saved the world and then moved Logan into his already tight apartment that smelled of despair and now dog piss with the new addition of the family, (Logan acts like he hates that fucking dog but if anything, he hates how much that dog was starting to grow on him.) and Logan had yet to bring any of his walls down in front of Wade. Even with Logan trying to start a new life, it was hard for him to let it go. Not that Wade was expecting him to let go of his trauma but he just wished that Logan would grow comfortable enough to even call this place his home. That was Wade’s goal, to get Logan to finally admit that this was his home too.

“I’m not trying to get hostile-“ Logan starts, only to be cut off by a mutter from Wade, “well that’s a first..”

“Wade!” Logan snapped, finally having enough, “turn the fucking show off and let me get some damn sleep!”

Wade gives him a look, putting his arm over the couch and a leg over his other. “Well, so much for not trying to be hostile..”

“It’s hard when you always try to push me, I don’t have the energy like you do and I just want to go to bed.” Logan grumbled out to him but his features slightly softened.

“Alright, alright, I get it. The old man needs his beauty sleep. Fine- but we will try this marathon tomorrow night.” Wade says, getting up from the couch as he stretches out. “But just to let you know, when I was talking about you talking about your tiredness.. I wasn’t talking about physical exhaustion.”

Logan lets out his own snort, letting out a bitter chuckle and it was clear that he was somewhat drunk. “I didn’t come to crash here just so I can start opening up about my feelings.”

“You aren’t crashing here, you’re living here. This is your home too y’know..” Wade reminds him and Logan lets out a scoff, waving his hand like he was physically trying to dismiss the idea.

There was silence for a moment, enough for logan to finally speak up. “Well? Are you going to-“

“Why won’t you call this place your home?” Wade blurts out to him, not being able to keep the question inside of him for much longer. It seems to catch Logan off guard, raising an eyebrow for a moment as he had look of confusion. “What the fuck are you blabbering about?”

“You won’t call this place your home- you either say it’s my place or blind Al’s.”

“Because it is?” Logan says, as if he had to state the obvious and it only drives Wade to madness even if he was pretty much already there. “No, this is our home. We share it, all three of us. It was your home the moment you walked in here.”

“I walked in here because I have no other place to go.” Logan comments, making Wade now scoff and roll his eyes. “Face it, peanut- if you really didn’t want to stay here, you would stay out in the streets asking for change instead.”

That seemed to hit a nerve, having Wade expose him like that- expose him for proving a point that if yeah, if Logan really didn’t want to be here then he would’ve left. Nobody is keeping him here, he’s not forced to stay but yet- the thought of leaving this place gave him a familiar ache in his chest.

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Wade? Why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because I’m getting sick and tired of you still keeping those walls up, we saved the world together for Christ sake- the least you can do is open up a little.” Wade tells him, starting to feel embarrassed for how worked up he was getting just over the mere fact that Logan wasn’t opening up to him. Did he not trust Wade? Well, given how he has lied to Logan in the past- he can understand but really, it wasn’t a lie, it was an educated wish.

“Open up? What do you want me to say?” Logan asked him and it was clear that his temper was rising, he was losing his patience.

“Well maybe-“ Wade starts but he’s cut off by a drunken wheeze from Logan.

“Oh! Oh! I get it, you want me to sit here and bawl my fucking eyes out and tell you how miserable I am and for what? To make yourself feel better about your own miserable life?”

“Okay first off- ouch.” Wade says, playing it off as a joke but he could feel his gut twist at Logan’s words, “and second off- no, that’s not what I’m trying to do here. I’m trying to get you to feel comfortable enough here.”

“Comfortable? What? Cuz I’m not walking around in my underwear like you do half the time here?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Wade finally snaps, but yeah, maybe that would be nice to be able to see but now wasn’t the time to be horny. “What I’m saying is- ugh, you’re difficult!”

“And you’re annoying.”

“At least I own up to that!” Wade tells him with a huff, making Logan roll his eyes and get ready for another beer out of the ripped open case on the floor. But not until Wade stops him, grabbing at his wrist which makes Logan narrow his eyes at him and pull away from his grip. “I think you’ve had enough.”

Logan gives him a look, a look of disbelief that says ‘are you seriously trying to cut me off?’

“I’m a grown man, I can have another drink if I want to.” Logan snaps at him, almost like he was offended at the fact that Wade of all people were trying to sit him down and have a talk about his feelings. Fuck his feelings, his feelings didn’t matter. None of this mattered, why was Wade making this a big deal?

“I’ll let you have the drink if you just have this conversation with me-“ Wade now is trying to bribe him, kicking the case of beer away with his foot and leaving it out of arms reach from where Logan was sitting.

“I’ll let you keep watching your goddamn show if this is what you’re trying to get at-“

“So close!” Wade tells him, “I actually am trying to get you to open up so you aren’t dealing with your shit alone.”

“I’ve always dealt with my shit alone, Wade. Why are you trying to be a therapist all of a sudden? This is getting fucking annoying, if I can’t drink then I’m going to bed.” Logan grumbles out, now trying to lay down onto the couch but Wade falls back towards the end just as Logan was close to putting his head down, making his head fall onto Wade’s lap.

“Hi.” Wade says, looking down at him as Logan blinks before sitting back up and scrambling back to the other side of the couch. “Will you knock it off already?!”

“Just give me a reason-“ Wade starts and his mind immediately goes to that one pink song, already singing it in his head. “Just a little bits enough..” it slips out of his mouth and Logan stares at him as if he has two heads. “What the fuck are you on?”

Wade finally snaps out of it, waving his hands, “oh, I’m sober- unfortunately but look, I’m just saying to give me a real reason on why you have yet to say that this is your home too.”

“Because it’s not my home.” He states bluntly, having to say it through gritted teeth. “Why are we doing this late night conversation shit anyways?”

“Because it’s the best time to talk about feelings- ugh, get with the program!” Wade pinches the bridge of his nose with frustration, shaking his head. Wade soon grabs Logan by his face, making the other man let out a low warning growl as his cheeks were squished. “Just. Talk. About. Your. Feelings.” Wade tells him, moving inch by inch closer to his face.

“I. Would. Rather. Die.” Logan growls back in the same format, ripping wade’s hands off of his face.

“Fine! Then just at least accept that this is your home too, will you?! This is your place too, peanut! Me and Al have been trying to put money together to get rid of this shitty couch and try to get a couch that opens up into a bed for you, we want you to be comfortable here!” Wade rambled out with a groan, making Logan freeze. “What?..”

“What?” Wade echoed back to him, blinking.

“You’re buying me what?”

“A couch that opens up into a bed, y’know- it’s like-“

“I know what it is, Wade.” Logan says, “I mean- why are you doing that?”

“I just told you why, we want you to be comfortable here.” Wade says once more, now frowning, “I want this to be a home for you, Logan..” Wade tells him now in a softer tone and it always catches Logan off guard when Wade becomes serious, “now, I know how you are- okay? I get it, I do but you’re safe here and me and Al are also safe being around you too. Even Mary Puppins is safe here around you! You don’t need to feel like you can’t grow comfortable here in fear that something will go wrong.”

Logan hates how right he is, hates that it’s the truth and nothing but the truth. Logan didn’t want to bring his walls down to Wade in fear that even Wade might get snatched away from him, he didn’t want to call this place a home because he doesn’t know what he will do if he grows attached to this place and this also gets taken from him. Sadly, he already knew deep down that this was home for him.

Finally, Logan starts to slowly cave into this stupid therapy session. “What if something does go wrong..?” Logan mutters out to him and Wade has to restraint himself from lighting up at the fact that Logan was becoming vulnerable with him.

“Listen, I’m not one to beat around the bush. I’m Deadpool and you’re Wolverine, shit is gonna hit the fan once in awhile and sometimes that fan is gonna crash down and burst into flames and then explode and then-“

“Yeah, okay, I get it.” Logan grunts out to him, Wade shifting on the couch as he clears his throat. “Right.. but what I’m trying to tell you is that whatever happens, you don’t have to go through it alone anymore.” Wade explains, “and that no matter what we go through, and remember that keyword ‘we’ because it’s very important- we will always come back home to our sweet daughter and blind Al.”

Logan wanted to scowl at that but he felt that warm fuzz in his chest at the thought that he finally has a place to come home to after a long day, that this was certain of. That this wasn’t going anywhere, that Wade wasn’t going anywhere. “Thoughts?” Wade breaks the silence, patting his lap, “come on, tell Dr.Wilson, this is all confidential.”

To Wade‘a surprise, Logan starts to lean back as he puts his head on Wade’s lap. It makes Wade feel giddy, feeling that energy bounce around inside of him as it was begging to come out. So, Wade only squirms slightly onto the couch to try to satisfy his undiagnosed ADHD. “Well, It all began when I was born..” Logan says and cracks a loopy smirk. Wade lets out a gasp, putting a hand on his heart as he realizes that Logan had just made a joke. (Though, there was some truth to his words..) “What year was that again?” Wade asked him, Logan looking up at him from his lap, “1832” which makes Wade let out a long whistle. “I bet your bones are dusty, you’ve definitely reached your expiration date.”

Logan snorts, “I’ve reached my expiration date a whole century ago, bub.”

“Well, if it means anything, I’m glad you haven’t actually.. y’know..” Wade trails off, suddenly feeling.. shy? This was new to him. He hasn’t felt this feeling since he had met Vanessa. “What? Died?” Logan asked him with his knowing smirk, he would blame it on the alcohol for this change in his demeanor but his healing factor was already sobering him up.

“Yeah.. died.” Wade muttered out to him, leaning back against the couch as his hand starts to move on it’s own, his fingers finding Logan’s hair and starting to tangle into it.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked but he didn’t reject the touch, only looking up at him with a curious look.

“To be honest, this just kinda happened. Do you want me to stop?”

Logan thinks for a moment while feeling Wade’s fingers roam around his scalp, the tip of his fingers scratching at a spot that just felt too good. “Nah..” Logan finally says, his eyes starting to droop and there’s a small sound of what sounded like a purr coming from deep within Logan’s chest.

“Holy..” Wade starts but he knew better than to give a big reaction, Logan was like a cat in a lot of ways and if he became too excited then he would just scare the big guy away. So, he shuts his mouth and enjoys the sound of the rumbling coming from Logan’s chest.

Soon enough, there was just silence between the two of them with only the background noise of Wade’s tv show that was long forgotten. Though, the silence eventually ended when Logan spoke up again. “Wade..?”

“Yeah.?” Wade glances back down to the man, seeing him already fighting to stay awake and he believed it was just for the mere fact that he wanted to keep feeling Wade’s fingers through his hair.

“I lied before..” Logan mutters out to him, his voice gruff and groggy. “This is my home too..”

“Can you say that one more time..? My phone wasn’t recording-“

“Wade.”

“Okay..okay..” Wade grumbled out to him with a huff, yet there was a twitch to his lips as a smile started to form. “I’m glad you believe me and I’m glad you’re trusting me. You’re safe here, peanut. Nobody is taking this home away from you.”

“And what about you?..” Logan dares to ask, the question slipping out before he could stop himself and it made Wade realize that Logan was associating home with him and he felt like his heart was about to burst inside his chest.

“Nobody is taking me anywhere either.”

And with that, Logan gives him a grunt before melting into the couch and slipping away into darkness and tonight, Logan didn’t have a nightmare and Wade decided to fall asleep sitting upright on the couch because the number one rule is that if a cat sleeps on your lap, you cannot get up.

“Psst.. between you and me..” Wade says, looking up at you, “don’t tell him that I see him as cat. Now shoo, I don’t need you watching us sleep, weirdo.”

[luxaofhesperides]

Post-Apocalypse + Soulmate AU ; requested by @burr-burr!

When Danny was a kid, he used to imagine how the world would end. It was never a zombie apocalypse or the fallout of a nuclear war, but the death of the sun, the expansion of their star in death that would swallow their planet whole, leaving no survivors.

It would have been nicer than the post-apocalyptic world he stands in now, knowing that it’s his fault the world has ended. 

He’s still struggling to wrap his head around it. To understand that all of this is his fault because he cheated on one test, desperate to pass after being unable to study for it with how exhausting and time consuming fighting ghosts is. Everywhere he looks, there’s more destruction. His own home is rubble, with only the partially untouched Ops Center remaining to let him know that this is where he once lived.

The rest of Amity Park is in worse shape. Buildings are hollowed out, the skeletons of their foundations visible, if they still remain standing. Most homes have been burned to the ground, leaving blackened corners of walls and nothing else. The roads are cracked and difficult to walk through, as if an earthquake tore through the city. Cars are scattered along the road, overturned or left abandoned, doors still open.

Danny has yet to find any bodies. He doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not. 

He’s only caught a few glimpses of his future self, the cause of all this, and can’t bring himself to chase after that monster. He feels sick to his stomach knowing what he’ll become. 

That monster has to be stopped. The world has already ended, but that doesn’t mean his future self can be allowed to go on like this. If there are any survivors, they need protection. They need to know they’ll be safe to try to start rebuilding, and that can only happen if his future self is dead.

Danny knows what he has to do; he has a responsibility to protect what little remains of Amity Park, and to do that, he needs to kill himself. 

But his head it spinning from the horror of the situation and his throat is tightening up the way it only does when he’s about to have a panic attack.

He needs to stop his future self, but he also can’t stay another second in the ruins of Amity Park without destroying himself.

The guilt sits heavy in his chest as he goes ghost and takes to the sky, flying blindly towards the setting sun. Danny doesn’t know where he’s going, and he doesn’t really care. He just needs to get away for a bit, until he can calm down and put together a plan of attack so he can take out his future self in one go.

He just…

He never thought he’d be a monster. But here they are.

Flying away from Amity Park reveals the truly harrowing extent to which this world has suffered under his future self’s hands. There are no intact cities or towns. Roads are broken beyond repair, highways littered with empty cars, most bridges crumbling into the rivers below them, and everything is covered in overgrowth. All signs of humanity’s careful cultivation of the world has been erased. The earth takes back what humans took from it, covering everything in green. 

There is no movement. No people. Barely any birds flying beneath him. 

What remains of the world is silence.

Danny is terrified that there’s no one left. That his future self has so thoroughly destroyed the earth that no human survivors remain. 

That gives his guidance, some idea of where to go: a big city. Any big city, really. 

He flies lower, searching for some sort of landmark, or a sign that will tell him where he’s going. A rusted over green sign farther down the road tells him that he’s 50 miles from Gotham.

Oh, Danny thinks, Maybe Batman can help me.

If anyone could survive the end of the world, it would be the superheroes, right? If anyone stands a chance at defeating his future self, it would be a superhero. Superman might have been a better choice, but Metropolis is the opposite direction and multiple states away; Danny’s not sure he can make it before his future self catches wind of him and hunts him down. 

Danny has no doubt about what would happen to him if he’s caught; there’s a reason he hasn’t seen any ghosts around, after all.

Gotham is a city of secrets and rumors. What little he’s heard of it is baffling and, frankly, insane. There’s no city in the country like it and Gothamites prefer it that way, stubbornly loving the home that will kill them. For all the manmade horrors they survive on the daily, they would be more prepared for the end of the world than anyone else. 

Gotham may be another casualty of his future self’s destruction, but it also offers him hope.

Danny follows the broken road towards Gotham, pushing himself to fly faster than he ever has before. What should have been a half hour flight is completed in fifteen minutes. 

As soon as the towering buildings of Gotham, dark and semi destroyed, come into view, Danny drops from the sky and returns to human form. The strain from pushing himself has exhausted him and he feels it like an ache in his chest, his heart twisting and trying to burst from how hard it’s beating. 

He collapses to his hands and knees and gasps for breath on the outskirts of Gotham. 

It takes a good few minutes to calm down and breathe normally, then another to gather his strength to stand up and begin walking. 

The world is eerily quiet as he enters the city, feeling the chill fall upon him as he is consumed by the shadows of tall buildings. It’s much more intact that Amity Park, but there’s no denying the destruction that still surrounds him. Buildings are empty and worn down, decaying and slowly being consumed by new growth. Burnt out husks of overturned cars fill the street, leaving Danny to carefully pick his way around them, unable to walk in a straight line. 

He feels like the only person in the world. He feels like he’s being watched by a hungry eyes. 

Danny shivers and walks faster. 

The deeper he goes into the city, the more he starts to hope that he’s not alone in this world. There’s small signs of life: the smell of smoke, recently burned, certain streets cleaned up, makeshift walls constructed from rubble to block access to certain areas of each block.

He swears he can see people move above his head, but anytime he looks up, the windows of every building are empty. 

“Batman,” he whispers to himself, “I just need to find Batman.”

He turns a corner and continues walking. Apartment buildings give way to stores and businesses, all with their windows broken and nothing on the shelves. Then the buildings end abruptly and he’s left staring at an overgrown park that resembles a jungle more than it does a part of the city.

The scent of something sweet lingers in the air. Fruit, perhaps, or flowers. 

If he was left in the aftermath of an apocalypse, he would go to where he could find growing food. If there’s anyone left in Gotham, he’s willing to bet they’re in here, surviving off of what food can be grown in the confines of the park. 

Danny crosses the road and takes three steps onto the grass before someone appears beside him and points an electrified baton at him.

“Who are you?” they demand, eyes hidden behind a cracked helmet, but the bottom half of their face is visible, revealing scars crossing on dark skin. 

Danny takes a step back, eyeing the electric baton warily, and lifts his hands to show he means no harm. “Danny. I came from out of town. I was hoping to find people here.”

“You don’t look like you’ve been traveling.”

His clothes are clean and intact and he has none of the world-weariness that weighs down this Gothamite. Danny winces, and says, “My situation is kinda complicated. But I did just get here. I’m looking for help, actually. Do you know where I could find Batman?”

There’s a long moment of tense silence, then he hears a quiet sigh and the helmet comes off. An exhausted looking man looks at him with one blind eye, turned a milky white, and his voice is low and stricken as he says, “Batman’s dead. But maybe I can help you.”

“Batman’s dead?!” Danny repeats, shocked.

“Yeah. Sacrificed himself in one of the last times Phantom attacked Gotham. Got me and Nightwing out of that encounter alive. We’re really the only heroes left in Gotham, not that there’s much need anymore with everyone trying to survive.”

Phantom killed Batman. His future self killed Batman. 

Danny feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh,” he manages to say. 

The man’s expression softens. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you as much as we can. Why don’t you come on in? Ivy can get you some food if you’re hungry.”

Danny nods numbly as he follows the man deeper into the park. He walks with ease, taking paths that only become visible when he walks them, leaving Danny to follow close behind. It takes some time before he realizes that the plants are moving out of their way just enough that they don’t trip, and when he looks back, the path is covered again, hidden from sight.

He’s taken to the heart of the forest, where the trees shift to the side to reveal a large encampment of survivors all living together. Beds are strung up as hammocks between trees and rope ladders dangle from branches to help people move up and down. The ground is full of small fire pits, a few in use to make make food, and sections in the back full of vegetable and herb patches, separated by berry bushes. 

The people here all look tired and worn down, but they still smile and speak in light voices, adjusted to a new life after surviving so much horror and destruction. He even spots a few people using powers, or just looking different, including one large man who looks like a crocodile. 

“Pick up another stray?” a raspy voice asks, humor lighting the tone. They both turn to see a woman with long red hair and a green tint to her skin be lowered to the ground by a vine. She’s also heavily scarred and her right arm is completely gone, replaced by a wooden limb covered in moss that moves as if it’s always been a part of her body.

“Hey Ivy,” the man greets, “I don’t think this one is staying. He came to Gotham looking for Batman.”

The words make Ivy’s gaze sharpen, and Danny feels a trickle of dread go down his spine. She’s dangerous and standing before her feels as if he’s in the mouth of a hungry beast.

“Is that so,” she says, voice flat. “How interesting. I’ll let you two talk somewhere more private.” Her gaze flicks to the side, and when Danny turns to look, he can see some of the people in the encampment observing them warily, bodies tense and poised to either flee or attack.

Ivy turns and the plants part for her. Danny waits for the man to begin walking before he follows, trying not to feel trapped as the plants close the path behind him. She takes them to a small pond full of water lilies, gives the man a careful look, then leaves, swallowed up by the plants.

“Is everything okay?” Danny asks hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“Nah, you’re good,” the man replies, “It’s just that people don’t trust me much.”

“Why? You’ve been really nice.”

The man shrugs. “My soulmate is Phantom. He’s the one responsible for doing all this and killing almost everyone we love. I didn’t know until the first time I fought him, but they hate anything to do with Phantom, including me.”

Danny’s heart stutters in his chest. This is his soulmate.

Most people don’t subscribe to the belief that they’re meant to be with their soulmate. Meeting your soulmate is rare enough that most people don’t try, and plenty of people have spoken of how important it is to have a variety of relationships, to not close yourself off for the slightest chance of meeting your soulmate. 

Danny never looked for his; he didn’t want to subject them to his parents, and then he became a halfa and gave up on all dreams of having a normal life or any relationship with someone who didn’t know he was Phantom.

And now he’s here, in a ruined future, standing before his soulmate who understandably hates him for destroying the world. 

“You’re Phantom’s soulmate,” Danny breathes. His hands are shaking. He wants to cry.

The man sighs. “Yeah. I am. Not that it’s stopped him from trying to kill me. Don’t worry, kid, I’m not working with him. I swear.”

“He’s your soulmate and he hurt you.”

“He hurt everyone,” he says, then gestures at his blind eye. “This is barely a thing compared to what he did to other heroes.”

Danny can’t find the words to expression his horror at seeing the damage he did to his own soulmate. His future self is heartless and cruel and bloodthirsty. He has to be stopped.

He doesn’t want to kill his soulmate. 

“I came here for Batman,” Danny says, “Because I thought he could help me stop Phantom.”

“That’s rough, kid. Batman couldn’t beat Phantom. I don’t think anyone can. We’ve tried, but most heroes are dead and we can’t just go out there and risk the lives of everyone here. We gotta focus on survival, not revenge.”

“I have to stop Phantom.”

“Sorry kid, but that’s a terrible idea. Don’t go out there trying to be a hero. You can stay here, alright? Ivy will get you set up and the others will help you settle in.”

Danny takes a step back and shakes his head. “No. I have to stop him. It has to be me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m Phantom,” Danny whispers. 

The man immediately reaches for his electric batons again, taking a step back. “Not funny, kid,” he says with a tense voice. 

“I’m not joking. I am Phantom, just from the past. I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You’re Phantom?” the man repeats. “You. You’re just a kid, and you’re going to destroy the world one day?”

“I don’t want this to happen! That’s why I need to go back, so I can stop the event that will set me down this path. And to go back, I need to defeat the Phantom that exists here.”

“He’ll kill you, kid.”

“That still solves the problem, doesn’t it? If I die here, then he’ll never live long enough to destroy the world. He’ll die too.”

The man stares at him with cold eyes, then turns away, dropping his hands away from the batons. “Don’t turn this into a suicide mission, kid,” he says. “The Phantom who’s here isn’t you. You don’t have to pay for his crimes. Just… stay here and I’ll go fight Phantom.”

“He already hurt you,” Danny says. 

“What’s a little more hurt? I can handle it.”

“No,” Danny says firmly. He shoves away the fear and hurt in his heart and finds his strength in determination. No more running away. No more hiding. 

The timeline should not exist. He can’t hesitate at the thought of erasing this version of his soulmate from existence; he’s tired and injured and an outcast in the only community that still exists in Gotham. He deserves better. Everyone here does.

And to give them a better life, Danny needs to stop this one from ever happening.

“This is my future. It’s my responsibility. I’ll stop it and make sure this never happens. And… I’m sorry for everything I did.”

“It’s not your fault, Danny. You’re not this version of Phantom.”

That’s not at all true, since Danny’s actions lead to the end of the world, but he’s not going to argue when he’s preparing to fight a stronger, more ruthless version of himself. He takes a deep breath, then goes ghost and floats into the air. 

“Before I go,” he begins, hesitantly, “What’s your name? Since you’re apparently my soulmate.”

The man smiles sadly and answers, “Duke. If we ever meet in your time, tell that version of me to look for my mom’s favorite book.”

It’s an odd request, but if it’s important enough to be asked for, then Danny will do it. “Your mom’s favorite book,” he repeats, “Got it.”

“Take care, Danny. Good luck out there.”

Danny nods and takes one last look at his soulmate, older and worn down, stubbornly getting through each long day, and swears to make things better.

Then he flies off, ready to fight his future self and make things right again. 

. . .

He thinks of his soulmate for years after he’s back in the present. The timeline where his future self exists is gone and the world is safe, but he still remembers the pain he caused Duke. 

When the time comes to apply to universities, Danny sets his sights on Gotham. His parents take him on a trip during spring break to tour the campus, and it’s after the tour, as he wanders around on his own, that he bumps into a student walking out of a building.

“Sorry,” they both say at the same time, reaching for each other to help each other keep their balance. 

As soon as their hands meet, it’s as if lightning runs through him. From the look on the other guy’s face, he felt it to. 

This is his soulmate.

“Duke,” Danny says, amazed and disbelieving all at once. And the request crosses his mind, something he wondered about almost every night since he returned to his time. “Look for your mom’s favorite book.”

“How—?”

“I met you in the future. You asked me to take back a message for the you that’s here. So: look for your mom’s favorite book. What does that mean, by the way? I never asked.”

Duke blinks, then slowly retracts his hands from Danny’s. “My mom’s favorite book was a hand bound journal from my dad. They were soulmates and he wrote about their first year in a relationship together. It’s full of pictures, and she loved it more than anything. That message is to remind me to have faith in soulmates, to believe that something good can happen to me.”

“Oh! That’s… wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into something so personal.”

Duke shrugs. “It’s fine. I needed the reminder. I would have already run away by now if you didn’t say that. You already know my name, but I think now’s a good time to introduce ourselves.”

“Right!” Danny says, flustered. He sticks his hand out, which Duke shakes with an amused smile. “I’m Danny. Fenton. I’m coming here next semester.”

“Duke Thomas. I’m a freshman here and I’d really love to get your number.”

He’s not hitting on Danny, not really, but it still makes him blush. The way Duke looks at him is full of light and laughter, so different from the exhausted and wary way he looked in the future now rewritten. 

This is what the future version of himself tried to kill. He doesn’t understand how anyone could ever hurt Duke when he’s so full of life. 

But he’s safe now. Everyone is; Danny changed the future and what lies ahead is wholly unknown to him.

The world is safe and full of promise. 

No matter what comes, Danny is sure he and Duke are going to be just fine.

[dinoshimaaa]

some day, someone will like me like i like you. (pt 2)

this damned feeling. a curse laid upon him for all of eternity. unescapable, tormenting, torturing. first it was disappointment he felt in himself for succumbing to it. but that feeling of shame was soon washed away by the bliss that accompanied the fluttering feeling in his chest, its intensity so strong that it overpowered every other emotion in him, to the point that he only ever thinks and feels of you when you are near. what a shame that you do not feel the same. (feat. wanderer, tartaglia, lyney, gn! reader) (pt 1 here)

or: their heart will always be yours, but you…

(p.s. scara for @seveninchesfrominsanity 😎 and gingey for my best boro @souglias 😍 good luck to everyone on their child pulls!!!!!!!!)

(p.p.s. 8 year-old tartaglia refers to reader as a princess once, but it’s gender neutral otherwise + archon quest and lyney story quest spoilers)

-

the wanderer of sumeru is all but lovely. he is “hat guy”, the mysterious vahumana scholar who showed up out of nowhere just days ago, already gathering an infamous identity for being scornful and anti-social. he is lesser lord kusanali’s assistant, a thinly veiled title to mask the fact that he is a prisoner under her watch. many do not know him because he refuses to work in the spotlight, much like the acting grand sage, and those who do don’t always have the best impression of him.

and even lesser truly know of where he had come from: his mother who is raiden ei, his origins in tatarasuna, his affiliation with the fatui, his obsession with the electro gnosis, and what he once was to sumeru: a false god, a monster, the near-cause of the land of wisdom’s destruction.

but the lack of something will always be attracted to an abundance of something. you are nothing but lovely; the loveliest, if anyone had to say. you are dazzling and you are beautiful, turning heads towards you when you walk the street. you are kind and generous towards the stray kittens on treasure street, and cheerful and easygoing with the store owners when you visit them. people sing praises of you everywhere wanderer goes, and to say he hadn’t had his own experience with you was incorrect.

he remembers himself fighting wave after wave of fatui soldiers, and himself slowly getting more exhausted by the minute, when you came in like a saviour angel from above, plunging on the last of enemies with your bow. he recalls your hits being barely a fraction of how hard he can slice through an enemy, yet when you assisted in defeating those annoying fatui back then, you turned around and asked if he was okay with the brightest smile imaginable.

(to the traveler or nahida, he would’ve given a sarcastic reply. to any ordinary civilian, he would’ve ignored them and been on his way. that day, he recalls being utterly speechless, while the rising sun glows behind your head, giving you a halo, illuminating your smile further. you are the most radiant sight he has ever seen.)

he seeks you out secretly like a stray cat following the only kind soul who fed it milk. sometimes, he watches over you in the air, making sure you’re safe. other times he just observes your interactions with others, ever so relieved to see that you are loved by sumeru just as much as you have shown its people love. more often than not he catches himself drifting off to a dream filled with you, being flustered and ashamed of such pathetic behaviour. but sometimes he also gets too lost in his thoughts, melancholy overtaking his face when he thinks of the shining star that you are.

wanderer’s hands are decorated with filth and blood. they show, sometimes, after an exhausting fight with the fatui. in his peripheral vision, hallucinations of that kid, that blacksmith, and the doctor come and go. in the dead of night, when sumeru sleeps soundly and all that is to be heard are the rustling of leaves in the wind, wanderer looks at his shaking hands and closes them in a fist, wiping them harshly, trying to rub off the sins stained on them. he is a terrible person to others. he is a terrible person to himself.

he is not a lovely person. you are the embodiment of ‘lovely’ itself. he couldn’t possibly deserve to be with you, lest his filth and sinful hands taint your pure being. it would simply be unconscionable for someone like him; damaged past, wreck and ruin, an empty soulless shell, to be close to your brightness. no one, not even himself, would forgive him if he were to ruin who you are: sumeru’s loveliest, the one who loves sumeru, and the one whom sumeru loves.

it is yet another night of watching you enter your house safely, staring at your front door for a few moments more before heading back to his residence (nevermind that he was the one to clear all the enemies in your path ahead, while you weren’t seeing). if nahida ever pointed out the lingering fond look in his eyes, or if the traveler teased him about having a possible crush on someone, there would be no need to blush madly and scamper away like a schoolgirl, for he knows that there is zero chance of “us” with him and you.

-

there are many fairy tales that are popular in morepesok village, most of which ajax have heard in his childhood many times. his distant memories include his mother, still youthful and full of smiles, reading him one of such fairy tales to lull him to sleep. he remembers her warm caress, the pulling of a quilt over his tiny body, and the soft flicker of the candle beside his mother, waiting to be blown out for the night. he also remembers you, his childhood best friend, his sleepover buddy, his other half, tucked into bed right next to him. if he searched hard enough, he might find some candid pictures of you and him, cuddled next to each other in the bed, in his childhood home.

“so then, the prince and the princess ended up happily ever after again?” 8 year-old ajax yawned, a sleepy smile on his face.

“they did, again,” his mother’s warm chuckle resonates throughout the room, through his ears, into his heart. he stores her laugh like a cassette tape in his memory, wanting to play it over and over again in the future.

“i can’t imagine a fairy tale where the prince and princess don’t end up together,” you murmured beside ajax, as his mother tucked the two of you in.

“that should be us, then,” ajax turned to face you and grinned, “so we’ll never be apart. let’s pinky promise that you’ll always be the princess and i’ll always be the prince!”

“why do i have to be your princess?” you complained, only to be shushed by ajax’s mother before she blew the candle out, signalling the end of pillow talk and the start of dreamland.

(all three of you knew it was impossible for you and ajax to be completely silent after lights out. the giggles that progressively get louder and harder after his mother leaves the room are testament to that.

this time, however, ajax is deadly silent, and you reach out to cup his face to ask what’s wrong.)

“sorry,” ajax holds the hand you cupped his cheek with. “you don’t have to be the princess, it’s okay. but i want to be your prince. i want to rescue you from the bad guys and defeat bad guys in your name. i’ll even do a pinky promise to prove it.”

even though you don’t give him a verbal answer, you hold his hand as he sleeps. it brings enough reassurance to 8 year-old ajax.

such peaceful times are unreachable now, ever since he fell.

ajax has not seen you for ten years. you have seen tartaglia for none.

when he returns, his familiar fluff of ginger hair in front of your doorstep, you have to do a double take. gone is the scrawny boy you knew, that got sick after every ice fishing trip, and cried over the smallest of scratches; in front of you now stands a fearsome harbinger, the tsaritsa’s vanguard, a killing machine with no life in his eyes.

(that is not ajax, any longer. that is tartaglia. that is a fatui harbinger. where is your ajax?)

you cannot bring yourself to smile when he presents you with a bouquet of pink roses, despite how beautifully preserved and fragrant they are. your heart doesn’t soften even when he greets your parents politely, plays with your siblings, cooks your family dinner, and helps with the dishes. that is not ajax whom you’ve let into your home, in contrast to what the rest of your family believes. that is a stranger who has intruded your safe space.

it hurts childe more than it hurts you to be on the receiving end of haunted eyes and hostile stares. he knows that he is vastly different from the childhood best friend he was to you ten years ago, and no matter what he does now, you will always see him as tartaglia, childe, the vanguard. you love ajax, but ajax is who he once was. ajax had been forced to throw himself away to survive. it wasn’t his fault that ajax is dead, but he cannot blame you for defiantly wanting your ajax back.

so when he kneels in front of you, the snowy wind feeling a lot more colder than usual, he ignores the way your hands tense when he holds it. he wants to cry when you attempt to pull your hand away even though he kisses it as gently as gentle can be. if an outsider were to witness this, they’d call this a romantic scene, between a prince and his beloved. but both you and ajax know that the fairy tale you yearned for in your childhood is completely unreachable now.

(“give me back my ajax.”)

(“i’m sorry.”)

-

to say that the great magician lyney is fully authentic in his shows would be a bit of a stretch, for he is an actor on the stage before he is a magician, however hard or long he may rehearse the day before the show. every smile had been sculpted and practised for hours until it was deemed perfect enough to be seen by his audience. needless to say, ‘the great magician lyney’ is merely a farce, an identity of its own. he wishes not to confuse that lyney with ‘fatui lyney’ and just ‘lyney’.

you were just supposed to be another face in the audience, an unsuspecting fellow he was meant to charm, attract, and never remember the face of. but you show up to a show once, then twice, then thrice, and soon you become a familiar face that lyney notices in the audience every now and then.

(that’s what lyney says, at least. lynette knows that he secretly seeks out your face behind the curtains, and the moment he finds you, his smile widens a tad bit, and his voice is a little cheerier as he steps out on stage.

by the way, since when did he start using rainbow roses in his performances? ugh, darn charlotte.)

but it is not easy to always be just ‘lyney’ with you, for he is called to be the great magician by day, and fatui by night. rarely is there time given to him to be his true self in front of you, to let the curtains fall and the farce fade. you can’t remember the last time he was allowed to let his shoulders slump, his face be bare of makeup, and his head rest under your chin as you kissed his tears.

and it seems you won’t be seeing those ever again.

lyney feels his blood run cold the moment father mentions your name in a mission, so casually, almost as if she had let your name slip out of her lips innocently and accidentally, if he hadn’t known any better. but lyney has been her loyal servant, her ‘favourite child’ for years, and he knows that the mere mention of your name is but a warning to him.

“i seem to be craving coffee recently. no one brews it quite as well as [name] does, i fear,” is what the knave says.

that person seems to be distracting you. i will eliminate them soon, is what she means.

lyney cannot afford to let anymore people close to him get hurt. his parents, who passed when he was very young… lynette, whose life had been endangered too many times to count… cesar, who taught him everything and treated him with love even in just ten days…

you shouldn’t need to fall into the same trend as well. your life is peaceful, precious, and untainted unlike his. so, it should remain untouched. and lyney decides that this is when he does what he has to do.

on the day that you return home and see lumidouce bells on your doorstep instead of lyney, you feel your heart plummet to your stomach. your gut turns and folds nastily, and stars increasingly flood your vision while a silent plea rings in your head, but there is nothing logical that refutes the contents of the letter that lyney had left you. that is all you have left of him.

the rest is to be expected. feeling betrayed and abandoned, you lose all feelings for lyney, not wanting to be associated with him again. his gifted trinkets left in your house are all thrown out. you can’t look at a magic show advertisement for more than two seconds. it takes only a little while to get over this heartbreak, but once you are fully free of all emotional attachment to lyney, you never think about him and his rainbow roses ever again.

lyney’s plan goes exceptionally well. of course it does; it was as meticulously planned as all his performances are. he returns to the house later that night to report back to father, submitting his response to her threats weeks ago: [name] is nothing to me now. hence, you cannot hurt them.

(however successful his plan was, he cannot bring himself to smile in response to the knave’s satisfied one.)

later, on the same night, when he slips out of the house, he finds himself wandering towards the place where he usually picks his rainbow roses from. a gentle pluck, a flick of his hand; a lumidouce bell takes its place instead. he smiles at his own trick bitterly, before pressing his lips to the blue flower and intertwining another rainbow rose with it. 

a moment of hesitation comes, followed by a few minutes of uneasy pacing, until lyney makes the decision to squeeze the petals with his gloved hand. the crumpled pink and blue petals fall to the ground. lyney only gazes as they do so.

(he wishes he could do the same to his own heart, but that is barely a fraction of how he made you feel. he will look for more ways to punish himself, then.)

[missywritesfor7]

❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

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Epilogue

Yoongi and Hyeri found a bit of pleasure in watching the media implode at the news of their relationship. Their instagram post made its way around the world three times within seconds of it being posted. A few times during their vacation they checked social media just to see what people were saying. Many people were supportive but of course there’s always the toxic few that demanded Yoongi leave the group and Hyeri get dropped from her agency. It was all to be expected, but it was hard for them to care when relaxing in an infinity pool overlooking a Sicilian beach.

Unfortunately, the return to reality after their trip wasn’t the smoothest. The two who were more used to sneaking off for secret dates in parking lots were now the most talked about couple in the world. Cameras were everywhere looking for the money making shot of Yoongi and Hyeri out holding hands or kissing. The more intimate, the more money it was worth. It caused things to get increasingly stressful for them which led to some sleepless nights and arguments about the tiniest of things out of pure exhaustion. They started to wonder if maybe they had made a mistake. Then one day something beautiful happened on the one year anniversary of their public announcement.

It became clear to fans early on how much the media attention seemed to be overwhelming the two of them. Hyeri walked out of one interview when she was continually asked about her relationship with Yoongi when she had already stated that she wasn’t there to discuss that. In a group interview, Yoongi refused to answer any questions a very assertive interviewer tried throwing his way about his relationship. Every question was shut down by Namjoon who, with the rest of the members, offered to act as Yoongi’s shield against anyone who dared to ask any invading questions. This caused some people to try portraying Yoongi and Hyeri as a “mean” couple. Creating false narratives and making things increasingly difficult for them.

As it neared a year since they announced themselves to the world, fans on both sides banded together to create a display of love and support. Yoongi and Hyeri hadn’t even realized it had been a year already, but as they were on their way home after having a quick dinner, they saw a large billboard with their picture on it. It was the same picture they posted to instagram one year earlier along with a congratulatory message on one year since the public debut of Rainbow Suga. Seeing the billboard made them feel a comforting warmth surround them. As they continued their journey they saw a bus pass by with the same photo and message congratulating Rainbow Suga. By the time they got to the third banner hung at a bus stop, Hyeri could no longer hold it in. She began giggling lightly mentioning how ridiculous “Rainbow Suga” is. Her giggles grew to a full laugh with Yoongi laughing along with her. It was such a silly and embarrassing thing, but at that moment it was hilarious. They saw another banner as they continued their journey and they only laughed harder. Things had been so rough for them that they realized it had been a very long time since they simply sat and laughed together. Thanks to the love of their fans they felt like they had been rejuvenated with a burst of energy.

They communicated more, stayed honest with each other, then recorded what became the idol mic drop song of the century. Produced by Yoongi and written and performed by Rainbow Suga, the song was an anthem criticizing the way idols are treated when they dare to fall in love. It also took shots at the media for being the biggest facilitators of privacy violations, rumors, hatred, harassment, and abuse. The song took off, and the dance challenge choreographed by Hobi, that resulted from it saw many other idols participating as a low key protest demanding their right to be human.

Neither of them expected the song to get the level of attention it did. If they had, they wouldn’t have used Rainbow Suga as their official name. Still, they’re happy with the movement that resulted from the song. Idols were more confident in sharing their relationships if they chose to do so. Others were simply speaking up for themselves more whether against their companies or the public. Apologies for doing harmless human things became a thing of the past. It’s not a complete change, and there are still plenty of rumors and privacy invasions going around, but the change in public opinion is gradually putting pressure on media outlets to be more ethical and respectable towards everyone.

BTS continued to thrive both as a group and individually. They’re all happy that the future that was so dark and uncertain at one point has turned out to be bright in the end. They continue to face their share of troubles, but they promised to remain honest with each other and not to be afraid to ask for help if it’s needed.

On the 3 year anniversary of Yoongi’s sobriety, the 7 of them all went out for dinner to celebrate. They congratulated Yoongi on how far he’s come, and he thanked them for their continued unwavering support. He then asked for their support again as he was preparing to embark on another new, scary, and exciting journey.

Being the first member to get married was quite nerve wracking for Yoongi, but he was excited to jump into this new chapter with the love of his life. He and Hyeri weren’t sure where to start with wedding planning. They unintentionally became the faces of idol rebellion against the unethical with one song and a few spicy interviews, part of them felt their wedding should represent that to some degree.

After being dropped off at home one night after getting tipsy with her Two Piece bandmates, Hyeri ran to Yoongi with what she thought was a great idea. Yoongi laughed it off but the next day they found themselves discussing it more. They thought it was the perfect plan.

It’s rare for any celebrity, especially an idol, to manage to get married or attend another’s wedding without at least one photo being leaked. With that in mind, Hyeri and Yoongi were determined to keep their most intimate ceremony just that, intimate. Their perfect plan, however, resulted in essentially three weddings and a lot of great stories that will be told for many years to come.

The “first” wedding was the perfectly intimate ceremony they had dreamed of. With their closest friends and family and not a phone in sight, Yoongi and Hyeri exchanged vows on a private island near Tahiti. The absolute privacy and media free affair was able to be achieved by Jin’s oldest nephew who, for a small fee of the latest gaming console and an enviable collection of games, anonymously “leaked” a copy of Yoongi and Hyeri’s wedding invitation which was actually a fake. This led to people thinking the wedding would be a month after their “first” wedding, and being held at a park in Daegu. They never confirmed or denied anything, but they purposefully led everyone to think the invitation was legitimate.

After returning home from their real wedding and subsequent 2 week honeymoon in Tahiti, the pair kept their secret until the day of their fake wedding. Many people descended upon Daegu waiting to see the happy couple and all of their famous newsworthy friends. Instead, they were met with a convoy of food trucks looking for exposure and confused locals.

Meanwhile, Yoongi and Hyeri were in Spain where they had an even more private ceremony that simply consisted of the two of them and a photographer. Hyeri found multiple dresses she liked when wedding dress shopping, so this idea stemmed from her looking for a reason to justify getting more than one. They picked their favorite picture, waited until midnight Seoul time, and posted a photo from their Spain shoot with only a rainbow and cat emoji as the caption. The world went wild and the cannibalistic media found themselves on the losing end once again.

The third wedding actually took place a month before their first wedding ceremony. A very private exchange of vows between only the two of them and an officiant held in Venice. While technically the first wedding and mark of the official date of their union, it was the last to be known to the public. Though they had planned to keep that ceremony and date to themselves, Hyeri accidentally mentioned the wrong date as their anniversary during an interview. After lots of questions, theories, and confusion, Rainbow Suga once again found themselves posting another wedding photo with a confirmation of the date of their true anniversary. They instantly became legends for the way they managed to dodge the media twice in what fans began calling an “All Kill”.

Hyeri found herself at the top of the acting world after her drama. She won many awards for it and became one of the most sought after actresses of the time. She was going nonstop and hadn’t realized how much she had been overworking herself until Yoongi used wedding planning as an excuse to encourage her to not take anymore big projects for a while. She spent about two weeks doing more sleeping than wedding planning. When she regained her energy she felt much more refreshed and energized which was perfect since she was planning three weddings at once.

The honeymoon phase has passed and Yoongi and Hyeri are now living a relatively private life just the way they like it. No scandals, rumors, hate campaigns, or lies being thrown around about either of them. They may not have completely ended the culture of the toxic and invasive media, but they certainly made people think twice before publishing anything about the two of them.

However, one thing they haven’t been able to avoid is questions about their future plans. Plans to have a baby. From family members, to journalists, to commenters every time one of them goes live. Everyone wants to know when Rainbow Suga will embark on the journey of parenthood. Of course it had been discussed between the two of them but they both remained uncertain. After a pregnancy scare and two weeks of anxiety, they realized perhaps they don’t want children after all. Perhaps things are fine just the way they are and they’re happy with that.

Yoongi can’t help but wonder though, if he’s the first member of BTS to get married, who would be the first to become a father?

A/N: I can’t believe we’ve finally reached the end! Thank you all so so so so so so much for reading and supporting this story!! As always, take care of yourselves and thank you thank you thank you again! 💜

[legolasghosty]

Lockwood has never been overly fond of lavender. Sure, it's nicer looking and smelling than most of the other tools used to separate the living and the dead, but he's always felt a bit annoyed at it. He rarely brings it up though, because there's not really a reason for his dislike.

Maybe it's that the purple stalks are everywhere, all the time. Along every London street, in every garden, in every room where mortals fear those who have passed beyond. Even in the winter, everyone has dried flowers in their homes and sprinkles the oils over their doorsteps. There's no way to get away from the stuff.

Maybe it's because lavender water is one of the weakest tools in an agent's toolkit. Lockwood barely ever uses it for anything other than reassuring clients that their home is safe after a job. For all the discussion of it, it's nothing in comparison to some sturdy iron chains and a rapier when it comes to battling ghosts. It's just a waste of space in his coat during a job.

Maybe it has to do with the way the scent sets people at ease. Somewhere in George's research, Lockwood remembers him mentioning how lavender water used to be used to treat insomnia before the Problem. Even now, with it being used to protect mortals from everything that goes bump in the night, he doesn't miss how the smell of lavender tends to cause people to loosen up, laugh a bit more, and let their guards down. Any kind of weakness can mean death for an agent, even when it comes from one of their own weapons.

Or, if he's being honest, maybe it goes deeper than that. Maybe it's because Jessica's room is always covered in the stuff, and has been since the day he failed to save her. Maybe it's because the flowery scent is all he can remember from his parents' funeral. Maybe it's because the stupid plants kept tripping him when he ran away from his old agency. Maybe it's just too many bad memories.

Regardless of the reason, Lockwood has never really liked lavender.

However, it's hard to hold onto those thoughts with Lucy sitting on the grass nearby, surrounded by night watch children, with a sloppy crown of purple flowers on her head.

She's had a soft spot for them for as long as Lockwood has known her. She claims it's because of how close she became to being one of them when she first got to London. Lockwood suspects that's not the whole story. But today, her kind heart has led them to a park down the street from Portland Row, at the beckoning of a group of children who had pooled their meager earnings to have a picnic.

Lockwood has stayed on the outskirts of the little gathering, unsure as to what would be expected of him if he joined in. But Lucy is right in the middle, regaling the kids with stories of the ghosts she's defeated. They're hanging on her every word. Lockwood can't blame them for it, Lucy is a good storyteller when she wants to be. Even if she glazes over his parts in some of her tales.

But one of the older ones had gotten restless and begun plucking sprigs of lavender from a nearby bush. Lockwood had been about to reprimand them for the needless destruction of public property, but they'd begun weaving the stems together into a chain before he could speak. It was barely five minutes before they looped the chain into a circle and plopped it onto Lucy's head without a word.

And now, staring at Lucy, her eyes bright in the sunshine, her hands waving around as she described the Greenhouse Ghoul, and those flowers shining like gemstones in her hair, Lockwood can't quite remember why he doesn't like lavender.

In fact, he thinks he very much enjoys how it looks right now. Maybe it's not so bad after all.

(For the most recent Lockwood and Co Flash Fiction Challenge by @lockwoodandcoff!)

[ccieatchildren]

Prove It.

No One Lives (2012) Inspired

TW: Implied Non-Con, Self-Harm, Medical (Probably) Inaccuracies

The cell door closes with a bang. 

Whumpee lifts from the bed, routine already cemented into them, and takes him in. He appears less put together than usual. Lab coat and clipboard gone for a tie and waistcoat. Slightly mussed hair from running his fingers through it, dark bags under his eyes, and a faint tremor in his hands. He looks terrible.

The remark bubbles up before they have the chance to stop it.

“You look like shit.”

He loosens his tie. “Not now.” 

They obey, sitting quietly as he unwinds. 

Whumper removes his gloves, drawing their attention to the scars on his hands, and worry blooms at the exposed vulnerability. He kneels in front of them, gently taking their face in his palms. The comfortable warmth of his hands is an unwelcome contrast to the cold disinterest of his gloves. They find solace in the uninviting chill of the leather– it is easier to disconnect. The heat makes him feel more real, more human, a title he does not deserve.

“I need to ask you something.” Whumpee says nothing. His lip twitches, but he takes a deep breath and continues. “Do you love me?”

The answer is immediate. “No.”

Whumper's eyes narrow before his face twists and he laughs derisively. The cackling bounces off the concrete walls, hitting their brain from every angle. His hands leave their face to claw at his own neck and Whumpee scoots as far back as they can.

They’ve dealt with many different Whumper's, but this one, the self-destructive lovesick madman, is unstable and frightening. There is nothing they can do and Whumpee wants him to stop. 

He keeps going until the skin blooms red and he has no more breath, eyes training back to them. “See,” there are a few more lingering giggles, “I do not know if you are lying or not. You lie to me a lot, Whumpee.” His fingers snatch their chin. “Are you lying to me, darling?” All the mirth is gone, left with two ominous crimson orbs. 

“…No.” Eyes searching, he doesn’t find what he wants and he lets them go with a scoff. 

Whumper puts some distance between them, which Whumpee greatly appreciates, leaning back on the metal table filled with his tools, and simply watches them. They feel uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze, paranoia sparking. Maggots crawl under their skin everywhere he looks, bubbling up where he stops and burrowing to follow where he moves. It’s unpleasant— revolting— but Whumpee is afraid any movement will cause them to burst out.

“Prove it.”

“…What?”

He pulls out an intricate pocket knife, flicking it open and flashing the blade. “I am your only exit, mylimoya. You are stuck here without me. Kill me, and what will happen?” He advances on them. “What will you do as the hours turn into days? As your throat goes dry? As the hunger grows like a yowling cat?” He pulls them flush by the waist to whisper in their ear. “Will you survive off of your own blood and flesh, zuikutė?”

“Stop!” They elbow him.

“Then, take this opportunity, put your knowledge to use, and do not let that happen.”

“Whumper,” they huff, pulling further away from him, “what’re you talking about?”

“I was your coworker, your friend, and now your captor, your lover,” his lips brush theirs, “Prove you feel nothing for me and run.”

They don’t understand until Whumper puts the blade to his own throat and slices. 

Blood gushes from the wound like a waterfall, a scarlet sea opening under him. He giggles, manic, but it gurgles with the blood beginning to pool in his throat. 

Whumpee can only stare in horror. 

Finally, when he collapses into their lap with a moan, do they spring into action. Their first aid training kicks into place, and they attempt to lift him up before pausing. 

This is it, this is their chance. 

Whumpee's eyes flick to the metal door and the heavy set lock, then back to the man bleeding under them. He looks serene moribund, kinder and softer than he ever is healthy and awake, and Whumpee is reminded that he is just a man. However, their eyes train back onto the pathetic cut on his neck and the image is destroyed.

They scramble over his passed-out body, searching every pocket and hole for a key. There is nothing in his pants, nothing in his vest, and nothing in his shoes. As the seconds tick by, their movements become more desperate, rechecking and triple checking, until they realize. 

There’s nothing but the knife in his hand.

Bitter tears push and tumble from their eyes and Whumpee screams in rage at him, at everything, for this cursed fate. It echoes around their prison and they hear multiple instance of themself do the same.

They shake his form in anger. “Whumper,” they shove at him more aggressively, “Whumper, where is the key!” 

He doesn’t respond, eyes closed and red growing under him. 

Salt streams faster down their cheeks. “Whumper, please.” Their hands are covered in crimson. “There isn’t time. Just tell me where the key is.” Their fury turns to begging. “Please…”

No response.

They rest their head on his in defeat, drowning him in their tears. “Whumper, wake up.”

Still no response and Whumpee hates themself for what they’re about to do.

They prop their captor on the wall, leaving him on his side to keep his lungs clear and making sure his neck is above his heart. Whumpee snatches his discarded tie, using it to apply pressure to the wound, but not enough to cut off the blood and his breathing. They run to the table, digging through his tools for something suitable until they find the staple gun. It’ll work.

Whumpee removes the tie, now soaked in his blood, and gently cradles his head in their lap. Holding the wound closed despite their slippery fingers, they line up the stapler perpendicularly to the cut and squeeze. The first staple pierces his flesh and he jerks lightly, but doesn’t wake. Taking a deep breath to calm their nerves, they move less than a centimeter to the right and puncture him again. 

They continue the process, trying not to pay attention to the sweat matting his hair and blood seeping into their skin, until the wound is fully closed. Whumpee rewraps the tie around his neck and drops him back onto the floor, disgusted by the feel of him. 

They saved him. They. Saved. Him.

Whumpee curls into themself, wrapping their scarlet soaked hands around their bruised knees and burying their face into their arms. Crying begins anew, louder this time so their sniffles and sobs fill the room. 

They aren’t sure how much time has passed before his groan reaches their ears. Their hold tightens around themself as they hear the shuffle of his movements. 

“Whumpee…” The name is hoarse, but nauseatingly tender. His hand lands on their arm and they jolt. “You stayed.” Whumper sounds so shocked and elated that the anger rushes back in.

They lift their head to glare at him despite the red rimming their eyes. “Stayed?” Whumpee growls. “What else could I do? There was nowhere for me to fucking go!”

His brows knit together until he laughs softly. “What did you do first after I fainted?” Whumper slurs. They continue to glower at him, refusing to respond. He laughs again. “Did you check me for a way to get out? A phone, a wallet, or… a key, perhaps?”

“There was no fucking key!” They get up on shaky legs, and he matches the movement. Whumpee pushes at his shoulders in anger, and they both wobble. “There was no key, Whumper, and you left me in here with you fucking bleeding out. I couldn’t leave without saving your twisted ass.” Each sentence is marked with an aggressive tap to his chest. “I had to save myself…”

His expression hasn’t changed, only amused pity, and he chuckles fondly when their rant is over. “No you did not,” Whumpee prepares to spit at him like an angry cat, but he cuts them off, “because, if you did, you would have left.”

“I just said-”

He holds up a hand and they don’t know why they obey. Whumper calmly limps to the locked door and Whumpee watches in anticipation to see where he hid the key. But he doesn’t search within his pockets or his clothes, and they can feel the dread scuttle up the back of their neck. He gently places a palm on the door and pushes. 

It opens. 

Their breath stops dead in their throat and a strangled whimper oozes out. Whumpee crumples to the floor as he walks back to them. It was open the whole time. The whole fucking time.

Why didn’t they check? What were they doing? How could this have happened? 

Whumpee screams in agony, frustration, and betrayal.

Whumper delicately wraps them in his arms and pulls them close. He runs a soothing hand along their back and Whumpee wishes they left him to bleed to death. They claw at his shirt, tugging and tearing, wanting to cause him as much grief as he has put them through, but they know they can’t. And his soft words confirm it. 

“You do not have to say it, Whumpee, but I know you love me.” The scent of his blood clogs their nose as he nuzzles their cheek. “Why else would you save me.”

Truly, Whumpee asks themself, why else would they save him?

[circeius-invidioso]

Have you ever wondered how fertile is each primarch?

No?

Well. I want to talk about it so why not? Who is going to stop me? God?

God is dead and I am eating his ashes. So without further ado.

To maximize the science of this post we will separate it into grades.

F for Fucking Hell Ahriman

Thousand Sons have the prestigious place of being dead last.

Why?

Cause a specific man I don't want to name any names decided to do something I won't mention incident and suddenly the already thin numbers of the legion decided to drop below the mariana trench.

Once the number was vibing with the deep sea fish, now its kissing goodnight the earth's core.

Magnus might be making a valiant effort but someone decided to perform-

You know what, god is dead but standards are not. I will not make that joke.

Moving on.

D for Deficient in Vitamin D

Night Lords, honestly, the only D that is plenty in the legion is dead serfs. They haven't seen a new brother in years...

Also they have the added bonus of the double d. A dead dad.

So they consistently suffer 3 type of d on the daily basis.

Raven Guard, yes? Yes. Moving on.

Salamanders, they strive for quality over quantity. Having a few sons isn't bad. Vulkan simply knows he weilds a weapon of mass destruction so he strategically deploys it.

Is that a d joke? I don't know. Do you pick up what I am putting down?

Please do otherwise it's littering.

C for Consistency

Alpha Legion, the only reason they are here is because they keep their numbers vague. But also they are like behind 90% of the conspiracies.

They might be 10 people with 1000 alter egos. I can't say.

I don't think they can either.

Iron Hands, one word that can describe Ferrus Manus is consistent. He died as he lived. Consistently average.

And I am allowed to make that joke because he is unironically my fave Primarch, and I am getting bullied for that every time I bring it up.

So in this case I am beating them to the race and bullying myself ahead of time.

Blood Angels, ever since the Angel died things had been rough.

Maybe things would have been better if they didn't yeet their brothers on those space hulks first chance they get.

I was going to make a joke but its too soon for that.

Too soon. It might have been 10k years since Sang die but the wound is still fresh.

B for Effort

Emperor's Children, why them? B for because they have so much potential. They can easily double their numbers if their Primarch put the chaos grass down.

Fulgrim is in the unique possition where he can, but sticks his seed in all the places except where it should be.

This isn't a intercourse joke people. Ok. I have some standards left.

Speaking of standards.

Iron Warriors, again. Much like his bestie. He has so much potential in increasing his numbers. But currently sits at the opposite side of the spectrum.

We are in the 41st millenia and Perty is too busy taste testing the oxygen in every room he goes in.

World Eaters, Angron coming in hot with an envious output. But sadly cannot make it in a higher tier because of his equally hot (if they died via fire) turnover rate.

You have to give it to him

cash or bank transfer I dont think he minds

he tries his best. Gold star. B for effort.

A for Astounding Output

Death Guard, Mortarian has been clocking in those extra hours. His harvest is quite plenty and boundiful every year.

Papa Nurgle puts Slaanesh to shame with this one.

Word Bearers, all I have to say is that in every book there is like a 60% chance you will come across a Word Bearer.

They are everywhere, I don't know what black magic he performs to achieve that-

It's almost like he consistently goes on pilgrimages and as a side hustle decided to spreads his seed-

...the math, starts to math up. Hold up.

Sons of Horus, Horus might be gone but Abaddon remains. And canonically (in the older editions) he was a clone of Horus.

So the Warmaster left in his stead the Warmaster travel size version. Now with more sons and more hair.

Which isn't hard because Horus was bald but anyway...

Did I add this just to share this useless factoid about Abaddon.

Yes.

Moving on.

Space Wolves, I mean... Russ. We know him. I don't think I need to explain myself further.

S for Shooting Like a Sprinkler

Imperial Fists- Black Templars is a thing. And it's a thing that abuses at least 3 loopholes at any moment to increase their numbers.

Ultramarines-

The lesson of this journey?

Yes.

[5thtantei]

yknow, i love kaishin/shinkai but every time i read an angsty fic (majority) my heart drops so far i feel it in my feet

#mildrant

i keep thinking about how people portray kaito, when to me he’s one of the loneliest possible characters with even fewer people knowing his identity because it can put them in danger. not just that but it also puts HIM in danger, just because he’s wanted by police and forces everywhere he goes— without knowing the actual reasons why. realistically his life is always in danger, more so than shinichi’s. he has the organisation targeting him, police, even detective friends and on top of that having your best friend bash KID: idk but in his position i don’t know how much he’s been through… i sometimes think he’s far more vulnerable because he has to put up more walls and façades.

one reason why i support kaishin is because shinichi doesn’t unnecessarily have a reason to catch him- knowing him he’ll want to find out more and have a proper reason to go after him. he KNOWS kaitou kid isn’t a bad person. he doesn’t know his identity or want to pursue him recklessly, and i should think kaito appreciates his detective a lot. hakuba and aoko give me mixed feelings.. i like aokaito but… i just think relationships based around honesty would be better.

i love aoko, i really do.

kaito really deserves someone who loves and understands him at his best and at his worst. his support system is much smaller than shinichi’s. to top it off, kaito is really devoted to his dad’s cause that he had to pick up OUT OF NOWHERE. that amount of burden after losing his dad, a somewhat absent mom and then finding out about jii san having to take on the mantle… i can’t imagine how much pain is repressed on his part.

in short i really love kaito kuroba as a character and adore him strongly. fics that use his phobia to attack him or to cause him heavy fear saddens me a lot. i still reinstate my point that kaito is one of the loneliest characters i’ve seen and characters that have to play an ‘antagonistic’ role in order to protect people they love and avenge their family just hits really hard

along with magic kaito’s series unlikely to ever get an ending or closure…

Kaito Kuroba deserves so much better.

idk finding people from dcmk comm or kaishin/shinkai fans who have opinions about this

also kaishin/shinkai roleplayers please hmu i’m at a destructive point