#death mention tw

[mulderscully]

one thing abt me is i will be watching cult documentaries on my death bed. whenever that is. i need to see inside the scientology buildings.

[misteriios]

❝oh. i understand you. it's same here. i do hope it gets better for you. it's not easy with social anxiety ❞ he didn't like being around too many people for too many hours. at school it had been okay, sometimes ❝ i was... until.. yeah, i lost my best friend, it affected me more than i could imagine. he died ❞ didn't trust many after that.

"Mainly because I have social anxiety and talking to others can be hard," she shrugged, knowing it was complex but it was easier to just sum it up like this. "Really? You seem like the friend type"

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Part 1: Dinner Time

Prologue

TW: Past neglect, death, violence, mention of blood, drinking

Tag list: @pix-stuff, @sweetconnoissurgarden, @craftymoonchaos, @jsprien213, @hebaoffside, @bunbunboysworld, @melonylla, @numbu5, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @formulas-bitch, @fantasyhopperhea, @otterluver05, @caged-birdies-blog, @minkyungseokie, @una1002289, @vanessa-boo, @welpthisisboring, @sirenetheblogger, @salfishers, @meeeeeeee-stuff, @eylsiankub, @lilithskywalker

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"Eight years in hell. . ."

You were seated on top of a desk playing with a snow globe in your hands.

"Can really make you go crazy." Your head hits the wall behind you, slowly turning to the bleeding man on the ground, once again receiving a blow to the face from a man dressed in dark red.

"P- please. . . I don't know anything. I swear." The man whimpers as he begged.

You sighed. "You're lying. I really, really hate liars' doctor." You through the snow globe onto the ground, shattering the glass. The man in red took your small fit of rage as a signal and pulled out a gun, pressing it against the doctor's head.

The bleeding doctor felt another type of fear the moment he felt the cool metal against his temple.

"W-wait! Wait! Please! I have a family; I'm begging you please!" The doctor cried and begged. The man in red glanced to you, you sighed and waved you're hand off. The man in red put his finger on the trigger, about to shoot.

"WAIT- Gotham hospital! She was at Gotham hospital!"

The man in red paused and glanced over to you.

You walked closer to the doctor, crouching down to the man's current level, as the man in red slowly pulled the gum away, the doctor felt a large wave of relief wash over him.

"Are you sure?"

The doctor nods "She s-saw Doctor Hill, that's all I know, I promise that's all I know."

You stay silent for a moment before standing up. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The Doctor felt relived. Wanting to go back to his wife and kids, hug them as tight as he could-

BAM!

The Doctor fell with a thud. Blood slowly seeping out of his body as you tossed the gun you used to shoot the doctor to the man in red.

"That's for lying" You mumbled as you stare at the doctor's body with indiffrence.

You've been out of Arkham for almost a month now. You should be relaxing, try to fit back into society. But no, your mother was missing, the Falcone's didn't know where her whereabouts were, some made comments of her abandoning you the moment you got out, which coursed them to have a slow death for their crude comments.

Your mother loves you, and you know she would never abandon you. So now you're searching. But you aren't getting to her fast enough. And your growing impatient. You wanted to come back out into the world and run into the arms of your mother, but your just met with Gotham's ugly mug. It angered you beyond words.

The man in red, Rex, works for the Falcones, but has come to be loyal to you. Rex followed behind you as you walked out of the room and down the halls.

"Give doctor hill a visit for me, will ya?" You spoke coldly as your heels clicked loudly walking down the empty hall of an abandoned building. Rex nods before speaking up.

"What about you Miss Falcone. Are you going back to the Falcon manor?"

Ah, yes. You took your mother's last name. All done in paper. No more, Y/n Wayne. That little girl is dead.

". . . No, I need to grab a few things."

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Alfred knows you have been out for a month, so why have you not come back to the manor?

Alfred tried to keep in touch as much as possible during your time in Arkham. Every phone call, he could hear that sweet innocent girl he knew fade. He has tried to phone you multiple times but no use. Even tracking you down with was difficult, Alfred has tried to tell Bruce about his worry for you not coming home, But Bruce seemed to almost immediately shut down at the mention of your name.

He's worried for you, he just wants to see you, and make sure you're okay.

There was a met Gala being held today. Preparing for it was exhausting, but it was like that every time a gala had to be held. Everyone scattered all over the manor.

With a heavy sigh, Alfred entered the kitchen, the gala's close to an end, the rich of Gotham turning in for the night. But Alfred comes to a stop when he noticed a woman in the kitchen, dressed in a dark red dress, her back faced to him as she picked up a glass of wine.

"Excuse me ma'am, you're not supposed to be in the back here." Alfred spoke firmly with his usual stoic expression. The woman in red slowly turns around with the wine glass in hand. Then she spoke, the face, Alfred surely does not recognize, but the voice. He knows your voice.

"I rather be away from the crowed, if you don't mind." You gave the older man a small smirk as you see the realization hit him.

"Miss Y/n?"

Your small smirk cracked even wider. Alfred walks closer, shocked to see you here, in the kitchen munching on some sweets, just like you used to when you were younger.

You shrugged with a small giggle slipping from your red lips

"The one and only"

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"Miss Y/n, come, Master Bruce must know your home!" Alfred might not show it a lot, but he is overjoyed to see you in the manor again. You've grown so much.

"Ah, well I was hoping to just grab some things from my old room and head out." You try to walk off to the back staires

"Nonsense, come, come." Alfred needed you to meet the family. For the family to see you. He touched your back as to lead you out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

You immediately flinched away.

Your negative reaction causes the butler to coil back.

"Miss. . .?"

You let out a weak cuckle.

"Sorry, I'm not fond of being touched." You began to meekly rub your hands together. Alfred comes to realize your time in Arkham has damaged you in some way's he might not be able to know yet.

"No need to apologize miss Y/n." Despite the small awkward moment Alfred still managed to have you walked out to see the others.

You felt an immense amount of DeJa'Vu. The walls, the detailed engraved in these walls. These walls haunted your dreams. Only half of your childhood was spent in this manor. You remember running down those stairs once Bruce came home from work. Skipping through these halls after getting a solo part in choir, something Bruce never really paid mind too.

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Almost everyone was here tonight. Jason, Dick, Cassandra, Tim, Damian and Duke. Steph couldn't make it. Barbra was spending time with her father. And. . .

Bruce watched as his children chat, argue, laugh. He smiles to himself as he takes a sip of his glass of white wine.

"Where's Alfred?" Damian spoke up as he turned his head in search for the butler that is always usually hovering around. Bruce shrugs

"Most likely in the kitchen."

Suddenly, the doors open, in comes Alfred with a smile on his face.

"Alfred." Bruce can tell Alfred seems to be in a more chipper mood than he was in half an hour ago.

"We have a visitor." Alfred's words confused the others. Then you stepped up. You scanned the room. Some faces new, some old. Others were still confused, either not recognizing you due to the years that have passed, or the fact they simply didn't know who you were.

But Bruce didn't take long to recognize you. And the way he paled at the sight of you, it just made you smirk at his reaction. Dick was quick to follow the realization.

"Y/n . . ." Bruce mumbled.

Jason's head whipped to Bruce once he heard the name. Looking back at you then to Bruce.

"Y/n, we thought you were still . . ." Dick tried to speak, but he seemed to get more uncomfortable with just thinking of his words.

You wait for Dick to say the words, but clearly, he was still in shock to say it.

"Arkham? I've been, rehabilitated." You say this with a soft smile.

Jason, trying to process what the actual fuck is going on right now stayed silent. Damian also confused spoke up.

"Father who is this woman?"

Your eyes snapped to the young boy, your head tilt for a moment. Walking closer to the table. Your heels click as you kept your eyes on the young boy, and Bruce kept his eyes on you. Still not believing you were out.

"I'm his daughter. Blood, daughter." You spoke as you kept a playful manner to yourself. The Damian frowns. "Imposible. I'm fathers only blood child."

You paused for a moment. You seem to be analyzing the situation.

"Is that what dear old daddy said." Your chuckle, almost darkly, as you sipped on your glass of red wine. Alfred pulled up a seat at the end of the table, across from Bruce. You took a seat.

The room that was once filled with chatter and warm air was now silent and tension filled the air. You leaned back into the chair; Alfred re-fills your glass.

"Thank you, Alfred." You kept a small playful smile on your red lips. You let out a small sigh before speaking

"So, what did I miss?"

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"𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢?"

[charliebot-art]

I think the death weirdos should hang out

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

I have ~Thoughts~ on the Harry Potter Phenomenon that was

(Courtesy of memories prompted by this Tumblr Poll)

Back when I was a senior in college (back in the mid-to-late 1980s), I actually wrote a fantasy novel for kids aged ~8 - ~11 (in a self-designed course for a single credit, under the guidance of my Literature advisor), inspired by a series of dreams and recurring characters that showed up in them.

My advisor encouraged me to try and get it published. And so, I arranged with teachers from my old school to have a class of 30 or so 10 year-olds beta read it, and give me feedback for revisions. The kids also encouraged me to try and publish it.

So I did.

Now, back then, there was no "Self Publishing." The closest thing was "Vanity Publishing," where you would pay 100% of the publishing cost of your book, which would be printed in hard copy, for the benefit of having 500 -1,000 books shipped to your personal address, which you were then responsible for storing and selling out of the trunk of your car in a parking lot, somewhere. And if word got out that you were trying to claim credit for being a "published author" because of a Vanity Press book, actual publishers wouldn't touch you with a 40-foot pole.

If you wanted to get published, you had to buy that year's copy of Writer's Market: a listing of magazine and book publishers, and agents, with a brief description of what material they published, and what they wouldn't touch.

Guess what genre no agent or publisher was interested in handling?

That's right, Gentle Readers: Fantasy for children aged 8 - 11. I would have happily sent out a dozen queries for each story I wrote, if there were publishers and agents willing to look at them. But for three to four years of trying, in directories of two-columns of tiny print, and several [hundred]* pages long, I'd be lucky to find two or three outlets even willing to look at fantasy for kids.

The general consensus, across the publishing business, was that fantasy was a dead and obsolete genre. If it was for kids old enough to read chapter books and novels, it must also be firmly grounded in realism and actual history, because everyone knows the only people buying books for kids that age were teachers, who wanted stories with practical applications in the classroom.

***

After 3 - 4 years of trying, while I was in grad school, I finally got a rejection from the one agent who agreed to read my novel. A few days later, I received news that my mother had died from the breast cancer she'd been fighting, and my heart just went out of the project altogether.

A few years later, the first Harry Potter book was published. And it became a worldwide phenomenon. And it was the kids, themselves, who were driving the sales.

See, I think the real reason the books were such a success, even though they were never really very well written, was because they were in a genre the audience was hungry for -- a genre they'd been denied access to for all of their young lives.

Someone who is starving will think even moldy bread is delicious.

*Gosh, what a word to leave out via typo; the Writers Market rivaled the Manhattan Yellow Pages in length.

[miniar]

(Nov. 10. 2023) The blue lagoon in Iceland is currently closed (for a week) due to a high risk of a volcanic eruption within a kilometer (0.8 miles) of the popular tourist location.

When the gathering magma breaks the earth's crust, anyone visiting the blue lagoon will have (best case scenario) approximately 20 minutes to make it to safety.

If there are people sleeping in the adjacent hotel or gods forbid in the lagoon itself, the worst case scenario is the magma breaking surface beneath the lagoon.

The only truly realistic way to avoid serious casualties here is for the resort, hotel, and lagoon yo remain completely closed until the danger passes.

There are currently icelandic people calling for a 2/1 deal (or cheaper) on blue lagoon tickets for Icelandic people on twitter.

Do Not Go To The Blue Lagoon Until The Danger Has Passed!!

It's a lovely experience but it's absolutely not worth boiling alive or burning to death.

[j0celynh0rr0r]

Death Magic 🩸🔪

[fizzyapplecandy]

Ateez as Romance Tropes

The one with the Mafia king's rose

Other members

Mafia king Hongjoong x Florist reader

Genres and warnings: mafia themes, heavy themes such as death, mentions of blood, minor character death, strangers to lovers, shy reader, falling in love, comfort, fluff, florist reader

Word count: 4.1k

Hongjoong's cruel world was about to collide with a woman so pure, she made his heart explode with joy. His dark past comes around the corner to do harm, but Hongjoong won't let anything happen to his little rose.

Hongjoong knew how cruel the world could be. He experienced it firsthand when his parents died, leaving him in the care of his uncle.

He didn't know it then, but in five years time, he would become one of the most feared leaders in the mafia world. His uncle was a strong willed man, albeit a bit easy when it came to women. Hongjoong watched as his uncle, his only rock, became so obsessed about an average accountant that he left his empire and fled to another country, just to live a normal life with her.

What a stupid man, Hongjoong thought at the time. He could have enjoyed the riches, people bowing to him out of respect, expensive cars and a plethora of beauties waiting to jump his bones. Instead, he was now an ordinary mechanic, drinking beer from his small front porch in a house somewhere along the coast of Italy.

What the fearless leader didn't know, was that he would soon wish to do the exact same, with a woman so special and unusual.

.

.

"Lisa, is the order for Mr. Jung ready? He'll be here in about ten minutes."

"Almost, just let me add a nice bow to the bouquet."

Y/N sighed, knowing how Lisa loved adding her finishing touches in the last minute. She couldn't complain, every customer adored their order, so she let the silly girl have her fun.

Running a florist shop was Y/N's childhood dream. After years of saving money, she got her little heaven with Lisa as an addition a month ago. She was a couple of years younger than Y/N, still in school, but she had a knack for arrangements.

"Lisa, honey, you can go now. I'll wait for Mr. Jung and close up."

The red haired teen came from the back room with a bouquet of white lilies, placing them on the counter.

"Are you sure? You know the street light doesn't work, they still haven't fixed it."

"I'm sure. My apartment is right around the corner, I'll manage."

They said their goodbyes and Y/N waited for her last customer of the day before starting to clean up. She changed the sign on the door to 'closed', but left the lights on inside. The lamppost outside flickered, but it still didn't turn on properly.

Just as she was about to grab her bag and head out, she heard the door opening. When she turned around, her breath got caught in her throat.

There stood a man in an expensive suit, his blonde locks combed neatly from his forehead. He looked like a model, but his stance was casual.

"Hi there. I saw you through the window, you don't mind helping out a man in need?"

She shook her head, almost hypnotized by his voice.

"H-Hi. I mean, we are closed, but if you are in need of a flowery emergency, I can make something happen."

Hongjoong chuckled, noticing how the woman checked him out. He knew he was handsome, but he had nothing on the lady in front of him. She was a true beauty, and for some reason, Hongjoong's heart started beating a little faster. He had to get it together, it's not like he hasn't seen beautiful women before.

"I would highly appreciate it. It doesn't have to be anything fancy."

Y/N nodded, going around her shop and showing him different types of flowers.

"What's the occasion?"

"The cemetery."

His curt answer made her freeze for a second. She turned to look at him, his expression now a little colder than before.

"Oh... Isn't it a bit late to go there now?"

"I was too caught up with... Work. I think my parents won't mind the time seeing as they are six feet under the ground."

Y/N didn't know what to say, thinking she would only make the situation even more awkward. It was clear that both of his parents were gone. She nodded, going over to the bucket of fresh white carnations. She took a good amount, cutting the stems and wrapping them in white paper. The man was watching her every move, and it made her feel a bit self conscious. When she was done, she handed the little bouquet to him.

"Here. Carnations are usually given to grieving families. They also represent Mother's day. Do you have a vase at the gravesite?"

He only shook his head, a bit touched by her effort. She could have picked up anything just to get him out faster, but she made sure the flowers had a meaning.

The lovely woman went behind her counter to retrieve a small vase, seemingly plastic, and handed it to Hongjoong.

"Make sure to put a bit of water in here so that the flowers can stay alive longer."

"I will. Thank you, Miss...?"

"Y/N. And you are?"

"Hongjoong." They looked into each other's eyes, not sure what was happening. The atmosphere in the room changed, and if Hongjoong's phone didn't ring, who knows how long they would have been at it.

"Hello? Ah yes Mingi, I got held up. I'm coming out in a second." He put the phone back in his pocket after ending the call, taking out his wallet.

"How much do I owe you? For the vase and the flowers."

Y/N shook her head, giving him a smile.

"It's on the house. I..." She sighed, her expression turning a bit sad.

"I also lost my parents, so I know the pain. I hope they are at peace."

For the first time in his life, Hongjoong was speechless. There she was, a woman who didn't know him or his background, doing a good deed just because she wanted to. The cruel mafia boss was surrounded with so much evil that he forgot what kindness felt like.

It was refreshing.

"Thank you, Y/N. I'm sorry for your loss as well. My mother... She would have loved these." He motioned to the flowers now sitting in the vase.

"No problem. It's getting late now, maybe you should..."

"Ah, yes. Sorry for barging in so late. Thank you, again. Enjoy the rest of your evening." The man nodded before turning around and exiting.

Hongjoong took out his phone, dialing Mingi's number.

"Yes, boss?"

"Mingi, I'll manage alone for tonight. Wait at the flower shop I just left and make sure the lady gets home safe. The street lights are off."

.

.

A couple of days went by since Hongjoong's last visit to Y/N's shop. Honestly, she was still thinking about him, and she hoped he would come back again. She felt like there was something between them, something that could be explored. Maybe he thought the same?

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" She whispered to no one in particular. Lisa had the day off for volleyball practise, so Y/N was left to her own devices. The afternoon rush was over - people buying flowers for hospital visits, one lovely grandpa coming to get his granddaughter's birthday sunflowers, and husband's rushing home to surprise their wives with bouquets of red and pink roses.

Wouldn't that be lovely? Y/N never got any flowers from her previous boyfriend. Notice the singular noun, because she only had one. Relationships weren't her thing because she was too shy to try and meet someone new. However, she could imagine a certain blonde man giving her a dozen red roses after a romantic dinner. But that was just wishful thinking. He probably forgot about her already. He seemed like a busy man, his suit pressed and expensive, and by the sound of if he had a driver of some sort with him. She shrugged off her thoughts and focused on making another bouquet that would make a wife somewhere in town very happy once she receives it.

The day went by quickly, and she was preparing to close up. For some reason, of because of false hope, she didn't turn the sign on her door to 'closed' yet. Her back was turned when she heard someone come in. When she looked over her shoulder, there he was.

"Hello again. I promise I'm not coming so late on purpose."

She smiled at Hongjoong, now facing him fully. He noticed how her dress moved, exposing her smooth legs a bit more to his watchful eye.

"Hi! It's no big deal, you stil have about... Two minutes left."

"Well I better make them worthwhile, am I right?"

Somehow, she knew there was a hidden meaning behind his words, but she had yet to discover it.

"What can I do for you today, Hongjoong?"

"I need a bouquet, a fancy one. Something... Pink?"

You glanced down at your dress, seeing its baby pink checkered pattern.

"Got it. What's the occasion this time?"

Hongjoong smirked, looking right into her eyes.

"A date."

Her face fell, and she tried to get herself together. Of course he would have a date, he's gorgeous! What was she thinking imagining them together? His date was probably some rich chick, dressed in branded clothing and adorned with expensive jewellery.

Y/N cleared her throat, managing to get it together. Hongjoong noticed how her mood changed, and he felt amused by the situation.

"Oh. Yes, okay. Wait here, it might take a minute longer. Any preference on the flower?"

He shook his head. "You choose what's best."

Going over to the pink roses, you grabbed them along with some baby's breath to give it a softer vibe. The wrapping paper was in baby pink tones, and you added a nice bow to finish it off. It was a bouquet you'd love to receive yourself, and the girl he was about to take on a date should feel lucky.

"Here you go. Pink roses for admiration. I hope she likes them."

He took the flowers from your hands, and your fingers touched for a moment. It was a light graze, no longer than a second, but you both stopped and looked at each other. Hongjoong got himself together before you did, and cleared his throat.

"I think she will. She was great taste, I can tell you that. And pink looks good on her."

You told him the price, and he handed you his black card. You knew he had money, so it almost didn't surprise you. After finishing the transaction, you were ready to go home and wallow in self pity.

Hongjoong had other plans.

"So, Miss Y/N, what do you like more - Italian or French?"

"I'm sorry, what?" You asked, a bit confused.

"I personally like Italian more, but French pastries can't be beaten. I'll have to take you to Paris sometime, just for the whole experience."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

You watched as the man in front of you smiled, handing over the bouquet you made.

"Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me?"

You were shocked. Did he really just ask you out? He made it seem like he had plans with someone else, when all this time he wanted you?

"Hello? Earth to Y/N?"

"Oh, Hongjoong..."

He could almost feel the rejection burning his heart. Maybe he should have had a different approach? He thought this would be cute.

"Yes, I'd love to go on a date with you. You just surprised me, sorry."

The blush on your cheeks now matched with Hongjoong's, and the both of you chuckled.

"I swear I've seen this in a movies, it went so smoothly, unlike this. But really, the flowers are for you. You deserve them."

Taking the roses from his hands felt like a brand new experience for you. Having never gotten flowers before, it turned out to be a wonderful feeling.

Hongjoong waited for you outside, and you were soon in his expensive car driving towards a nice secluded restaurant. He wanted to have some privacy with you, and he also had to avoid certain parts of town where people knew who he was.

He didn't really think everything through, but he knew he wanted you. That was enough for now.

When you went inside to get seated, you were surprised at how homey the place felt. The staff knew Hongjoong, and they took you to a secluded booth for more privacy. Once you got your drinks, the conversation kept flowing naturally.

"So, Miss Y/N, what's your story?"

You took a sip of your white wine before answering.

"Well, as you know, my parents died when I was young. I was raised by my grandparents until I saved up enough money to move. Flowers were something my mom loved, and she always told me I had a green thumb. So, after a lot of dirty dishes and lunch rushes I experienced as a waitress, I opened up my little shop. It's not much, but it's my pride and joy."

Hongjoong nodded along as you told him about your life, your assistant Lisa, your wish to have a pet but your landlord not allowing it, and so on. He took in every word you said, trying to memorize the things you liked.

"What about you? You seem like a guy who has a much more interesting life than me."

Oh, you didn't know the half of it.

"After my parents died, I went to live with my uncle. We have a... Family business, so I took over when he moved away. I don't do much besides work, to be honest, but I love my job. It just gets a bit lonely sometimes."

You looked at him curiosly.

"Lonely? Don't you have colleagues?"

"I do, lots. But majority don't speak to me directly. I have my right hand man, Seonghwa, he takes care of the communication between all of us. If it weren't for him, I'd be a lost cause."

You nodded, sipping on your second glass of wine. You were a bit of a lightweight, so you had to be careful not to overdo it.

"What exactly do you do?"

Hongjoong went silent. You were confused for a second. You were just chatting about jobs, nothing major. Why would he stiffen up so suddenly?

"I do... Accounting."

"Accounting?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm. A lot of accounting."

He changed the topic after that, not giving you a chance to question him further. You kind of got the message. Dinner went by smoothly, and you were in his car again making your way back home.

"I had a lovely time tonight, Hongjoong."

The man gave you a quick smile before focusing on the road again.

"Me too. I would love to do this again, and soon. I hope I'm not coming off too strongly, but I really like you Miss Y/N."

You blushed, looking down at the roses in your lap.

"Why do you keep calling me Miss Y/N?"

"I like how it sounds. Maybe I should start calling you something else, though. What do you say, rosie?"

The redness of your cheeks only got worse after that.

"I kind of... Like that better."

"Then it's settled."

He pulled up in front of your building too soon for your liking.

"I have to be honest with you, rosie."

You turned your head towards him, seeing his soft expression.

"Yes?"

"I really want to kiss you right now."

Silence followed his statement. You didn't know what to do. On one hand, you'd love to kiss the man, while on the other, you knew it would probably be too soon.

"I... We just met, and..."

"Hey, hey, I get it. I wasn't really expecting to do it now. Keep it in your mind, though, because I'm not a patient man when it comes to things I want, and I really want to have you, rosie."

Once you said your goodbyes you went to your apartment with flushed cheeks and your first bouquet. Hongjoong was something else, and you were looking forward to exploring what the connection you felt with him.

What you didn't know was that your little dream would be ruined the next evening.

.

.

"Okay Lisa, it's time to head out."

"But Y/N, you never let me stay and close up with you."

You looked at the teen sporting a new plaster over her brusied nose. Lisa loved volleyball, but the ball loved Lisa's face even more. The poor girl always had another injury after practice, but she was determined to keep going.

"That's because it's still light out, and I already told you the street lamp isn't working properly. I don't want you roaming around in the dark."

"Oh, but what about you?"

You smiled, arranging another order for tomorrow morning.

"I have a feeling I won't be going home alone tonight."

"Ah, yes. Your little mystery lover. Well, if that's the case, then I'll be off. Have fun, Miss Y/N."

You shooed her away, giggling along with her before going back to the counter. You didn't really know if Hongjoong would stop by, but you had a feeling he would.

Another hour passed before you went around the shop cleaning up and preparing to leave. Your back was turned when the door opened.

"Now, you said you wouldn't come by after clo-"

"So, you're the boss' new toy? He sure knows how to pick 'em!"

You turned around, shocked to find another man there instead of Hongjoong. He was tall and buff, but what caught your attention the most was the gun in his left hand. A gun pointed right at you.

"Say, do you think he'd be angry if I borrowed you? Only for tonight, I'll make your exit quick afterwards."

"Please, I don't know what your talking about. Here, take all you need from the register, my wallet is in my purse."

The gruff man stepped closer, shaking his head.

"I don't want your money, I want your blood."

Your hands were now in the air, your body trembling with fear.

"Please... I didn't do anything."

"Oh, maybe you didn't sweetie, but the little king did."

King? Why would he call him a king. Before you could dwell about it some more, the man started talking again.

"You see, Hongjoong owes me. You know how they say, and eye for an eye. Killing my brother was a mistake, and now I've come to get revenge. The mafia world is too cruel sometimes."

The blood in your veins froze, your heart beating rapidly. You were about to plead some more with him, not knowing anything about the mafia he was going on about. What in the world did Hongjoong do?

Luckily, the door opened again, and there was the man of the hour, also holding a gun in his hand.

"Drop the weapon Chan, you know I'm a better shooter than you. You should ask Hansol."

At the mention of his brother, the gruff man turned his head in Hongjoong's direction, but his hand was still outstretched in yours.

"Don't talk shit, boss. I have your little princess at aim. My finger is about to slip."

Before you knew what was happening, the man was on the ground, a hole right between his eyes.

"I hate traitors."

Hongjoong stepped over his body, going over to you. His face softened, noticing your trembling form. Your eyes were still locked on the body bleeding out on your shop's floor.

"Rosie, sweetie, look away. Come, we need to get you out of here."

"No! Don't touch me!" You swatted his hands away from you, but Hongjoong was persistent.

"Please, rosie, we need to go now. My men will clean everything up."

"Your men?! Who the hell are you?" You were now starting to panic, but Hongjoong managed to wrap his hands around you to keep you grounded.

"I'll explain everything once we get to my house. Please, you have to trust me."

You were to shaken up to notice how he was guiding you outside, hands still firmly planted around your waist.

"Mingi, take care of everything with Yeosang. I want the place spotless. You hear me?"

The two men standing outside nodded, and off they went.

Hongjoong somehow placed you in his car, making sure you were comfortable. The ride through the city was silent, your head hurting from the events replaying in it.

It was clear Hongjoong was involved in something dark. Something that made a random man come into your flower shop and try to... You couldn't even think about it.

"Y/N, were here. Come, let's get you inside."

The mansion in front of you was lavish, to say the least. There were bodyguards all around the premises, with one of them waiting by the front door.

"The place is secured, boss. We've prepared a room for Miss Y/N."

"Thank you, San. You're free to go now. Make sure to keep me updated if you notice anything unusual. Chan was alone tonight, probably acting out of rage, but we should be careful."

"Of course, boss." The buff man nodded, walking away to give you and Hongjoong privacy.

He led you inside, the front room looking like it came from an expensive movie set. Everything was decorated tastefully, with modern furniture and expensive paintings. The living room was no different, where you were currently sitting and holding a cup of warm tea. You still haven't said a word, and Hongjoong was getting concerned. He knelt down in front of you, placing a blanket around your shoulders.

"Rosie, I know you're confused, and probably terrified, but you're safe here with me. You can ask me anything you want, and I'll answer truthfully."

"You're not an accountant, are you?"

The man chuckled, standing up and making himself comfortable next to you.

"No, I'm not. I'm a leader. This is my world Y/N."

You're voice trembled as you spoke. "You're in the... In the mafia?"

"Smart girl. Yes, that I am. I have my own empire, left to me by my father and uncle. We don't always do things such as what happened tonigh but your safety was my priority."

"You killed a man."

"That was about to kill you. It was an easy decision."

The anger you felt soon came up on the surface.

"But you didn't know him! Maybe he had a family as well? Why would you do that?"

"Do you know what him and his brother did, Y/N? They traded girls around brothels for easy money. Sometimes they beat them until they passed out. They took one of our workers and almost killed her. They deserved what was coming for them."

You went silent after that.

"Y/N, I know this is too much to take in at once, but you've got to listen to me. I like you, hell, I'm falling for you so quickly it's insane. When I saw the gun pointed at you, I snapped. I couldn't let you be in danger a second longer. You still owe me a kiss, don't you remember?"

A small smile appeared on your face.

"Owe? I don't know about that."

"Okay, call it how you want, but I want to kiss you. Everyday, all the time."

You looked at Hongjoong, seeing how intense his gaze on you was. The man seemed smitten, and you never had someone admire you like this.

"What do we do now?" You asked.

"Now? Now, you're mine. You get to be my queen. You'll never have to worry about a thing, my rose."

"But... My shop? I still want to work at my shop!"

"Hey, hey, that's okay. You can do whatever you want, I won't meddle in that. I just want you to know that you don't have to worry about anything else anymore. I'm going to take care of you, for however long you let me. Do you feel the same as me? Tell me you do, I won't survive the heartbreak."

He fell against the couch, closing his eyes and placing a hand over his chest.

Without much thought, you leaned over and placed a light kiss on his cheek. Hongjoong's eyes opened, and he stared at you with so much adoration, you felt shy.

"You... Oh, my rose."

"We need to take things slow, Hongjoong."

"Absolutely, no problem. As slow as you want. But not too slow, please, or I won't make it."

Again, he pretended to faint against the couch, hoping you'd place your lips in him again. Instead, you pinched it.

"Ow!"

"Don't be dramatic, sweetie."

The two of you laughed before you settled against his chest. The fireplace was crackling, the tea in your hand going a bit cold, but you still took sips. Hongjoong's hand was going through your locks, and his breathing made you calm.

Somehow, you found yourself in the embrace of a mafia king, but it didn't matter. He was still Hongjoong.

Dramatic, over the top, but lovely Hongjoong.

You could get used to it.

.

.

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 3

Masterpost - Ao3

Content warning: This chapter involves depiction of a train derailment and subsequent fire throughout. There is also brief mention of death. I will be putting a brief summary in the description if you prefer not to read this part.

Danny jolts up from his fitful sleep. He’s intangible and invisible before he’s even fully sitting up and he’s in the air before he registers the loud boom that woke him. Any concerns about his bright transformation are made totally irrelevant by the warning sirens blaring in his head.

Wait, no. Those are real sirens.

In the distance, lights are now accompanying the sirens; flashing as they speed down what looks like main street. It’s pretty clear where they’re going too, from the violent orange glow cascading over the tops of the nearby buildings.

I knew it, Danny thinks, flying towards whatever disaster is unfolding. probably it’s stupid to get involved, when he still knows so little about this place, but- well, old habits die hard. It doesn’t take long for the problem to become obvious, and Danny freezes as he struggles to process the scene before him.

The metal carnage is nothing like Danny’s ever seen before; what looks to be a freight train has derailed at the worst possible location, sending its cars careening into the various apartment buildings and stores on the east side of town, and to make matters worse, one of them has clearly crashed straight into the gas station by the freeway, and fire is spreading faster than Danny could have imagined.

Danny can already see two buildings blazing, but he quickly focuses his attention towards the carnage of the train itself. Luckily it’s fairly obvious what direction it was headed, and Danny moves fast, looking for the engine. In ghost form, physical sensations always feel a little more distant but even through that, Danny can feel his heart rabbiting in his chest. Luckily it takes less than a minute to find the engine, but as he approaches it, the presence of death catches in his throat, and he immediately knows it’s a lost cause.

He can’t sense any actual ghosts, though, so instead Danny whips around to stare at the derailed cars. He’s far more used to fighting than he is rescues, but he can hardly just ignore the possibility of people trapped, so he carefully begins phasing through the wreckage, searching and listening for signs of anyone. Already, people are starting to gather outside; both those who were nearby and those who have managed to escape on their own, and Danny is careful to maintain his invisibility as he works. 

Danny’s made it through about half the wreck by the time he spots the firetrucks arriving, he’s pretty certain that nobody’s trapped under any of the cars, and he’s also thinking more clearly. The fire has also gotten worse now, and Danny watches as fully equipped firefighters spill out onto the street, already jumping to work as the fire chief shouts out orders. Some rush to start battling the flames, but others head towards the crowd.

They’re getting headcounts, Danny realizes. It seems so obvious in retrospect, but of course, Danny would have to be visible to check with anyone. And now that they’re here, anything he tries to do in secret would probably just make things harder. There is, of course, an easy solution to that, but- Danny has yet to find any evidence that all the meta stuff is anything but propaganda.

Even as Danny considers the dilemma, he knows what he’s going to do. He’s survived danger before, after all, and if he can keep people from assuming ghost, then he’ll have an advantage on them even if it comes to the worst. Besides, there’s that whole great powers-great responsibility thing, so in a way, it’s kind of his responsibility...

Danny floats out of the wreckage before shifting into visibility, figuring it’s probably polite to approach in their field of sight.

“What can I do to help?” Danny asks, causing most of the crowd to stare in shock. Belatedly he realizes he’s still floating, but actually that’s probably a good thing. Makes it clear he’s a meta right off the bat, at least

“New hero, huh? Powerset?” The man responds promptly, leveling Danny with an even gaze. Probably the lack of shock is a good thing. Probably.

“Uh, flight obviously, enhanced strength as well, and um... The ability to turn people and things intangible?” Danny responds promptly. It’s far from his full set, but he figures those are the most relevant, and keeping most of his tricks under his sleeve makes him feel better about what he’s doing.

“Is the fire gonna hurt you? I’m not sending some kid in there to die of third degree burns or smoke inhalation.” The man frowns, giving Danny the distinct feeling he’s not particularly impressed with Danny’s answer.

“Oh! Yeah, no, I’ll be fine! I like, don’t exactly need to breathe? And I’m fine in extreme heat too, so it shouldn’t be a problem...” Danny trails off and the head firefighter narrows his eyes as he tries not to flinch at the assessing look. To Danny’s right, someone shouts and when he turns to look, he sees a firefighter wave their arm and plant some kind of flag before moving on. No longer paying attention to Danny, the chief walks over and speaks to another firefighter. Danny wonders if he’s been dismissed, but before he can do anything, the chief calls out to him.

“Alright kid, you’re up, I guess,” he says, when Danny walks over. “We don’t know how injured he is, so do not move him, but if you’re strong enough to move this stuff fast and safe, that’ll be a damn good help.” He gestures to the twisted mess that Danny’s pretty sure was the edge of a building. 

Danny nods, stepping forward to examine the rubble. The firefighter that spotted the man points to a couple beams.

“Those beams are protecting him from the worst of it right now, but we’ll need to move them in order to get him out, so you gotta make sure that there’s nothing that’ll fall on him him when you move them.” 

“Righty-o,” Danny says, stepping forward to grab the two support beams he’d pointed too. He carefully examines the rubble collapsed around and over it. It’s sort of like a puzzle, he realizes - not quite the same as fixing his parents tech; certainly nothing here is supposed to be smashed together like that, but-

Danny blinks and refocuses. If he  just moves a few things first, he thinks he can get enough cleared away and just intange the beams. He tries to be fast as he does, without forgetting the emphasis the chief had put on safety, and after a few moments, he’s ready to move the beams. He gets into a good position, and then carefully makes them intangible, ready to react if anything bad happens. When nothing does, he carefully pulls them up and away, watching as the waiting firefighters rush in and start to work on actually extracting the guy.

He watches for a bit as a backboard appears and they begin a very slow and careful process of getting the guy onto it.

“Kid,” the chief calls, pulling Danny’s attention away.The chief guides him towards one of the buildings that’s on fire. “Got two people trapped on the third floor here. The stairs are unsafe, so if you can, get yourself up there, locate them, and get them out.”

Danny nods, not waiting for further instruction. He flies up two floors, and goes straight through the wall with his intangibility. The majority of this building isn’t terribly damaged, but one side has collapsed in on itself so if that’s where the stairs were, he can understand the difficulty. The air inside is already thick with smoke, and he quickly stops breathing, belatedly remembering that he’s supposed to not get smoke inhalation. Luckily, it doesn’t take long to catch the sound of voices, and Danny follows it to a room where two people are huddled next to an open window. Right, that’s a smart way to limit the danger of the smoke.

“Rides here!” Danny announces cheerfully, dropping his intangibility. Both people startle as they spot him, but one recovers relatively quickly.

“Him first,” they say, nodding towards their companion, who definitely looks more dazed.

“Right, here we go!” Danny says, stepping forward, and scooping the person up, and wasting no time flying directly through the building, and down to the waiting paramedics. There’s no stretcher currently available, so Danny gently sets them on the ground away from the worst of the smoke, before flying back to get the other person. They’re already standing up, and waste no time in wrapping their arms around his neck as he picks them up and flies them out to the medics as well.

Danny hardly has time to set the person down, before the chief is pulling him away again. They send him in to save a couple other trapped people, but after that, it sounds like everybody is accounted for, because the chief starts focusing all their energy on putting out the fire, rather than just containing it.

Danny is surprised to find himself pulled into helping with this part too. He gets assigned to a fire attack team, and Danny trails along after the two firefighters as the enter the building and begin to fight the fire from the inside.Occasionally, one of them will point at some piece of wall or ceiling and ask him to check what’s on the other side. He goes where they say, looking for signs of the fire, and when he does spot flames, occasionally tearing stuff down so they can get to it with their fire hose. It’s honestly a fascinating process. Danny’s never been anywhere near a major fire and the fact that the firefighters actually do more damage to the building as they work echoes in Danny’s brain as a morbid refrain.

What they’re doing is clearly working though, because he can actually feel the ambient temperature going down as time goes on. He briefly wonders if he should be trying to use his ice powers when one of his teammates complains about how hot it is, but they have protection, and he doesn’t want to risk any more info on him getting out. And anyways, he’s busy enough just doing his job. By the time they leave the building, Danny is exhausted. The interrupted night’s sleep is making itself known, alongside the surprising realization that Danny has actually worked harder tonight than he ever has before.

He lets himself half-collapse against a wall beside one of the fire trucks, once they finish their work putting out the fire. Beside him, his teammates are divesting themselves of their gear. it’s funny, Danny was anxious about revealing himself at first, but this whole night - and Danny belatedly realizes the sun is beginning to drift above the horizon now - he’s not been scared at all. Sure he’s been worried; with people in danger he’s hardly going to feel good, but in the last few hours he’s both worked harder than he has in any of his fights, and he’s done it without feeling terrible. Now, with just everyone accounted for and just about all of them either fine or in the hands of doctors, he feels odd.

It’s not a bad feeling or anything, kind of like when he successfully beats a hard level in a video game, or how he used to feel when he finished science projects in middle school.

Satisfaction, he realizes. And that’s what it is, though it’s far stronger than any version of it that he’s ever felt before. He does have a lot to feel proud of too. He  helped, even though he wasn’t sure it was safe to, and he might’ve actually saved somebody’s life tonight.

“You did good, kid.” One of his teammates says, echoing Danny’s thoughts. He startles a bit, feels himself flushing, and then in his embarrassment, he feels himself tumble over into a full blush. It’s always felt more embarrassing blushing in his ghost form. The way his skin actually glows with the green tinge is just so obviously inhuman, and he tries to avoid, tries his best to seem normal and alive, even when he’s a ghost.

Of course, these people don’t know he’s a ghost, but from what he’s seen, most of the heroes out there at least look functionally human, and he waits for the firefighters around him to freak out at the reminder that he isn’t even remotely one of them.

“Damn,” one whistles. Green glow is a new one. Makes your freckles real cute though.” The others laugh, and the other of his teammates steps forward to pat him gently on the back.

“Stop embarrassing my new favorite hero,” the chief says, walking up to join them. “You gotta name?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Danny answers, desperate for a distraction from this line of conversation. “I’m Danny!”

“Danny,” the chief responds flatly. he almost sounds exasperated, though Danny can’t imagine why, unless...

Unless that absolutely sounds like he just introduced himself normal and they think he’s a hero and he sounds like a dumbass without a secret identity, which- technically isn’t exactly wrong. 

“Yup!” Danny says, trying to make it sound intentional. “Danny Phantom at your service! Y’know cause of the intangibility and like. It just sounded good?” There. That sounds plausible. If he actually does end up having to be a hero, though, he’ll probably need a different first name. If he gets a civilian identity, that is.

“Well, Phantom,” the chief grins, that same assessing look from before back, but noticeably more relaxed now that there’s no immediate danger. “We’re damn grateful for all your help, and if you need anything you come let us know, alright?”

“Yeah, one of his teammates echoes. “You’re an honorary firefighter now, you should come hang out at the station sometime!” A couple of the others echo the sentiment. It’s surprisingly kind, and Danny smiles at the unrelenting wave of welcome.

“I’ll think about it,” he offers uncertainly. “For now, I think I ought to go back to sleep for a few more hours.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Danny,” the chief says. “Just make sure to get something to eat first. You’ve burned a lot of calories today.”

“Yeah, will do,” Danny offers an awkward salute to the man, and then, before he can actually fall asleep standing up, he takes off to hunt down a good spot for a nap.

[retquits]

my grandfather passed last night.

i miss him more than i can express with words, so i painted my favorite photo of us instead.

thanks for teaching me so much. i hope there's good music where you are.💛

[kyuhu]

love is in the air or maybe not idk

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Prologue

Part 1

Your mother was a beautiful kind and dangerous woman. In short. She was a Falcone. And for young Bruce, being with her was a thrill. Being Batman gave him a thrill, but your mother was a different kind of thrill.

Till she got pregnant. And the thrill was gone.

Your mother kept you of course. Counting the days till she gets to hold you in her arms. And when she finally got to hold you, to feel you close and hear your sweet little voice. The rest of the Falcone men decided that your mother wasn't ready to take care of you. So, they forced you out of her arms and sent you to Bruce.

Bruce held you once. And immediately passed you to Alfred. He was too young to become a father. (Never mind the fact he was already acting as a father to two boys)

He didn't have time to play daddy. Deep down Bruce did come to care for you over the years and attempted to try and hold you. But then Jason died, Dick distanced himself. Holding you, an innocent little thing, felt wrong.

When you were eight. You had tantrums. Night terrors. terribly scared of the dark. Thunderstorms especially. Gotham famous for its long dark nights and loud thunderstorms. Bruce, too busy with his new sidekick, Tim. Didn't have time to comfort you. No matter how heartbreaking your scrams for him were. Crying for him, so he can save you from whatever nightmare you have woken from.

But only Alfred occasionally Dick, would come and save you.

Bruce would give you toys, new dresses as a form of apology. He wouldn't give it to you directly. But have Alfred give it to you or leave it in your room when asleep. But no matter how many new toys he gives you. Those nightmares just never stopped.

Due to the neglect. Your mother was able to meet with you secretly. As years passed, she was able to steal you away when Alfred wasn't hovering around you. Take you to shop and give you whatever you wanted. Holding you in her arms and not wanting to let go.

Slowly, your mother was gaining the favor of some of the Falcones. To let her have you back. To welcome you back into the Falcone family. Once she gets the whole family to agree. She can make a case of child neglect against Bruce Wayne and take her sweet Babygirl back.

But when you were ten. Your powers began to kick in. You told Bruce, hoping your father would help you. Help you understand. Bruce, told you to keep it a secret. And to tell no one else.

Having a kid who was a meta was the last thing he needed at the moment. Trying to re-connect with Jason who still had deep hate for him instead focusing on his first-born child who was struggling to understand.

You felt like a freak.

And it wasn't long till you lost control of your powers. To keep it short. You accidently killed a few other kids with your powers. It was an accident. You swore. You see you would have just been left off. Your a kid. It was an accident. But most of all your a Wayne. But one of the kids you killed was a Falcone.

And Bruce couldn't risk you getting killed. He cared about you. Just not as much as he should. So, to avoid the wrath of the Falcone's. Bruce had to claim you were mentally ill. Sending you to Arkham. Only for a few months. That's what he said to you. That's what he promised.

You did your six months in Arkham. Six months turned to eight. Eight months turned to ten. Ten months turned to two years. Then finally, you were taken out from your cell. Lead by two prison guards. They said you had a visitor. You assumed it was another reporter. But was proven wrong when you see Bruce on the other side of the thick glass. You were shocked but happy to see your father.

"Daddy." You spoke softly as you slowly smile, putting your hand on the glass. Bruce hesitates to put his hand on the glass, once he does, he focused back to you. Your eyes stared at him with so much love and hope.

". . . Your case. . . the court decided you're, too unstable to attend court, so. . ." Bruce didn't look at you as he spoke. So, he couldn't see the smile on your face fade. Confusion taking over.

"But. . . I did my six months. . . I-I've been here for a year! Daddy, please I didn't do it on purpose!" You were on the edge of crying.

"I promise. I'll get you out of here as soon as I can." Bruce wanted to try and console you. But that was harder due to the glass between you two. He reaches out his hand to the glass once more. But the loud buzz that queued it was time for you to get back to your cell.

"Please Daddy don't let them take me!" You cried, putting both hands on the glass. You were in full despair. Bruce didn't know what to do. He can take the risk from the Falcones and get you out with a snap of his fingers. Or he can make it easy for everyone but you and wait till you serve your time.

". . . I'm sorry" Bruce can see you falling deeper and deeper into dispare.

Guards burst from the doors and had to forcefully take you away.

"No- No! Daddy please! DADDY!" Your screamed louder as the guards took you away, reaching out to Bruce who just stood there. And did nothing. As always.

Seven years later.

No one ever visited you again. Well, no one from the Waynes. But your mother visited you every week. Her visits where the only reason you kept saine.

Arkham isn't all fun and games. Obviously. You were immitted into Arkham's fucked version of rehabilitation. You started hearing things after your first month in Arkham.

. . .

You sent letters almost every day to the Wayne manor. But never got any back. None from Bruce. None from Dick. You and Tim weren't close. So, you didn't expect anything from him. Alfred prefers to call you. Wanting to hear your voice to make sure you were not lying to him when he asks of your wellbeing.

You stopped sending letters to Bruce a few months ago. Not like he'll respond anyway. You don't need Bruce. You have your mother. And she's all you'll need. She's your world now, your reason to keep living this pointless life. And once you're out, Mama promised to give you a big hug. Which you so desperately needed.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢. . . 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚎?"

[henwilsons]

THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR  ↳ 1.04 | 1.09

[atomicpirateperson]

rob's static 📺

if you're not aware, rob's static changes with his emotions, so i decided to analyze it for fun in a stupid post with gifs <3

dark: rob's static turning dark is generally for negative emotions, but not exclusively so. it's most often shown when he's feeling grumpy or evil, but also can indicate sadness, guilt, pain, realization, physical effort, or just being theatrical.

bright: his static getting brighter is often for joy or confidence. it's associated with adrenaline like excitement and surprise, as well as distraction, confusion, and tension. in the case of intense, aggressive anger, his static turns bright instead of dark.

flashing: his static flashing quickly between bright and dark most often indicates intense anger. the static having a single bright flash can show sudden pain, especially if followed by darkness. a slower flashing can mean fear or panic, like a warning signal.

rapid: the static speeding up significantly is like a heart rate speeding up, and is another sign of intense anger. it also occasionally means fear, excitement or confusion.

okay so "dead" and this next bit aren't really emotions, but they are worth mentioning. when rob is dead (or at least paralyzed?) his static goes dark and very slow, and because he was literally turned off with the remote, a power sign is displayed.

as far as i know this only happens once, in the scene shown above, but his static can zoom in/out to display him tensing up and relaxing.

and that's nearly all i have to say about that! btw the animators don't do things with his static in every scene, sometimes it just stays, well, static LMAO

here are some extra examples from the show:

[kyuhudraws]

Strong bird prince!

[lilybug-02]

Weird Route...

Spoilers for CT Weird Route below.

Please check tags for anything triggering ❤️

Afterlife...

........

This is not cannon, as the weird route is finished and it will not be added upon. But.......I often find myself wanting to draw for it. So here you are...

The weird route ends abruptly and without art for a reason. I wanted to make it painfully obvious that as YOU continue the route/story YOU stop getting anything out of it. You're only hurting the characters, and by the end, there's nothing left to do except start over.

I had thought of Asriel discovering Chara...well, dead. But I think that would have been too much for the scene. I didn't want to get any more depressing than it already was.

tbh I only hope that I can make an ending even half as good as this one. I still think about it often and I'm proud of the amount of work I put into it.