#figuring out the issues in my head

[palossssssand]

hi everyone. i’m making Oveyll into a plush

[little-pondhead]

[this is kind of a messy ramble, sorry about that]

Demon Twins AU, except Danny is loyal to the League.

The League of Assassins is a “cult” for a reason. They know what they’re doing. Ra’s has been around for a very long time; he’s seen every trick in the book and then some.

So when his daughter Talia gave him two, near-identical twin grandsons, he had already planned out their lives by the time the sun had set on their first day living. He knew the plans weren’t perfect. Nothing ever went exactly how he wanted it to. But that was the joy of being absolutely fucking ancient. Ra���s adapted better than anyone. If something went wrong, Ra’s will simply work around the issue and live to see another day.

So the boys were raised as he wished. Ruthless, with sharp blades and even sharper wit. They matched each other in every way, blow for blow. Neither won more than the other, and Ra’s encouraged the competition between the twins. Eventually, the battle for title of Heir came, and Damian won that particular match.

Danny was fine with this. Thrilled, even, for his brother to earn the title of Heir. The boys were very close, and worked well to take down targets twice their size. Ra’s approved this, and granted Danny title of Shadow. He was to be Damian’s eternal shadow, a guard. Both Talia and the boys were pleased with this.

But then came the time for the boys to learn how to live without each other. They’d gotten too used to someone guarding their back. Too complacent and too confident in their roles. Ra’s knew it would happen, and so sent Danny off at a very young age to live with some sleeper agents in America.

The Fentons.

Damian would stay here, with Talia, to learn how to be the perfect Heir. He needed to learn how to fight without the assistance of his brother.

Danny would go to Amity Park, and be fostered by the Fentons. He needed to put his skills to practical use and learn how to live without constant orders.

This was their Test.

Damian did quite well, for a while. Until Talia sent him off to his birth father, The Bat. Reports on his behavior declined in quality after that, and Ra’s couldn’t help but feel dissatisfaction with how the Heir had been corrupted.

Danny’s reports were always immaculate, however. His mask never slipped, and he’d worked himself into the hearts of the townspeople. The sleeper agents, Jack and Maddie, had a daughter who was quite enthusiastic about the properties of the mind, and accept Ra’s instructions to teach Danny with ease. It was the ideal situation.

In Ra’s eyes, Danny was thriving. Damian was not.

And then Ra’s died. The League was in shambles. Damian was at peace with his family, away from the cult he grew up in. He assumed Danny had defected years ago, since their mother stopped giving him reports about his twin.

Then Danny showed up at the Wayne’s doorstep, decked out in full League attire, angry and hostile.

“Tell me, dear brother,” he spat. “Why did you not inform me that Grandfather had died? I had to find out through his spirit when it came to visit from the afterlife!”

Damian didn’t know what to say.

[jakekazansky]

Ron and Merlin trying to parent teenage Jake and nothing works. Taking things away does nothing cause Jake is used to having nothing. Grounding him doesn’t really work cause it’s not like Jake has any real friends and the only place he goes is the academy and he has to go with Merlin (he’s 17 and the government fears if they let him live in the dorms that he’ll disappear so thus he has to live with slider and Merlin at their home his first year).

Not entirely sure on how they figure it out but they find out the only real thing Jake responds to is air jail.

Yes, air jail. Like you would do with cats.

Jake is like 5’6”-5’7” meanwhile slider and Merlin are both over 6 foot.

So Ron just wandering through and snatching Jake up when Jake’s trying to start shit with the son of an admiral whose family is over for a dinner. And Ron being just like ‘nope we’re not doing this’ cause Jake has started fist fights with other people this way. So Ron just acts like he’s walking by and swoops him up and under his arm like a football. And it momentarily stuns him like when you put a towel over a cat.

So Ron just walking out into the backyard with Jake trying to wriggle out of Ron’s hold before he eventually just gives up and just hangs there.

Jake is well behaved the rest of the night.

Merlin days later asking Ron how he got Jake to behave that night and Ron just showing him a video of someone doing air jail to a cat and being like “this, air jail. He’s basically a cat so this”.

[ask-cloverfield]

which kaiju gets the biggest glowup between eras? i enjoy the goofiness of the showa era stuff so far, but even just giving godzilla a longer snout in the later movies made a big difference!

Even ignoring my fondness for Gamera still being portrayed as a heroic guardian of children while looking so intimidating, Gamera’s original frontal design looks a tad awkward and shapeless

[camgoloud]

he still has his tonsils. by the way if you even care

[amid-fandoms]

i’m probably going insane but why does dan’s accent here sound like something nick nelson has said at some point

[weaverofink]

Picked a couple random panels from teen titans 03 to redraw with my own style/headcanons!!

[cabeswaterdrowned]

“Democracy’s a farce,” Ronan said, and Adam smirked, a private, small thing that was inherently exclusionary. An expression, in fact, that he could’ve very well learned from Ronan.”

Adam emulating rich boys he’s attracted to continues to go crazy

[crimeronan]

the thought of severed innie nova manically girlsmiling her way through is inordinately funny to me. i've been assuming all that crazy denialism was drilled into her and you're telling me she's just? Like That??? hysterical. love may not transcend severance but trauma responses sure will.

nova can Always be prevailed upon to go "it's okay it's okay it's okay, no, it's okay, it's totally okay, no, i can fix this!!! it's okay!!!! We Are All Okay!!!" about anything, in any universe, with any backstory, ever.

the main difference with severed nova is that she has no preconceived bigotry or self-importance, so when she gets really anxious and possessive and insecure about things, she just shuts herself in the bathroom. and cries. about how she's ruining everyone's life.

[arsenicflame]

why is it so easy to show my friends so much grace i can never show myself? a friend doesnt respond to me for a week, a month, longer, and it doesnt bother me, because i know theyll get to me when its in their bandwidth, i trust and love my friends and want them to do whats best for them! but when i stare at my dms and replies and think of about 3 words to say before blanking.... no... i am a bad friend and everyone is judging me and getting annoyed. i could respond if i really tried, couldnt i?

[yikes-ajax]

So it's fine when I walk around with a cane, but when I run on all fours it's "unacceptable" and "terrifying"

[fyodior]

i think the reason i cling to male characters so much despite being sapphic is that im like literally obsessed with the idea of a man loving me and being nice to me. something that has never occurred

[thiscityneedslessfog]

I was talking to myself about Persona 2 and reminded myself of how much I liked it even though I was actually being rather critical of it when talking about it to myself and then began thinking about the positives…it really is a great game. Er, great two games I guess? There’s a reason Maya’s Theme is found in literally every game after!! She’s amazing!!

I’d analyze more about what I like about the game but I just woke up so all you’re getting is “Maya, Eikichi and Ulala are my favorites and I really love their arcs in particular,” “I have a little crossover fanstory in my head where the Suou bros meet the Niijima sisters (you’ll pry the idea of the Niijimas being inspired by the Suous from my cold dead hands),” and “good grief I love P2 Joker so much AUGH”

[rainintheevening]

Not Dead

(A Saving Grant Ward AU)

"Come on, Hill." Grant's face hurts, and he's tired. "Why'd you pull me out of the field? I mean, it wasn't for a history lesson."

Maria Hill looks away for a moment, takes a deeper breath than maybe necessary, says quietly, "You'll have to ask Coulson."

Grant stiffens, the cold finger of her words tracing still-tender scars, and he thins his lips, answers sharp. "Phil Coulson is dead."

Her gaze drops, and so does his stomach. A breath, as if to speak, before she sighs, shakes her head.

"Actually, no."

It isn't Maria who speaks, no, it's a voice he knows, the voice of his conscience and his comfort, a voice he's not supposed to be hearing, and he's on his feet before his training takes hold, keeps him from backing away.

There's a ghost in this room, stepping out of the shadows, Coulson looking him in the eye.

"I'm... not dead."

For a moment the world turns upside down, he can't breathe, his vision greys... Before he catches himself, turns away sharply. "Don't," and no matter how dead he tries to keep his voice, he hears the tremor. "Don't do this to me."

Maria avoids his gaze, crosses her arms over her chest, glares at the man who can't be Coulson. "Coulson! You were supposed to let me ease him into it."

Coulson sighs, like he used to sigh when he'd forgotten to buy the right kind of hot sauce on wing night, and was about to go get the keys and drive to the store right then, because Grant wouldn't eat his wings without it. An apology. "Sorry, I just couldn't wait to see you again. Also I think there's a bulb out back there. I wasn't trying to be that dramatic."

Grant snorts, he can't help shaking his head as he looks back at the man whose response to finding out an angry customer had hit Grant over the head with her purse was show up at her house and tell her she'd go to jail if she ever shopped at Walmart again. "Even got someone who talks like him," he says, anger starting to smolder in his gut. He was done, done his grieving, he'd sworn to live and look forward, to honour his dad's Coulson's legacy.

Phil is worried. He's been worrying over how to tell Grant since... Tahiti, he thinks, but, no, it had been too peaceful there to be worrying. So, at least since Fury had lifted the lockdown on him.

He remembers the day Lady had been killed by a car, the limp body in Grant's arms, and how Grant had screamed for him, called him 'dad' for the first time.

"Try to go easy on him," Maria had said.

He'd raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

She'd stopped in the hallway, frowned at him. "Coulson, he had to bury you. The only person he cares about, and he had to bury you. He took two weeks' vacation after the funeral."

Phil had frowned then too. "He took time off?"

"Yes! Two. Weeks. Disappeared, off the radar. No one knows where he went, or what he was doing. He's never said."

So yes, Phil's worried, watching the tense line of Grant's shoulders, the way his eyes say he doesn't believe yet, and he's getting angry about it.

"Grant," he says, and the other man startles. "I'm sorry. But it is me. No tricks, no lies."

Phil moves forward slowly, as if trying not to frighten a skittish animal. Grant says nothing, watching him with those burning eyes, until he reaches out, grips Grant's upper arm gently but firmly. The other man flinches, hard enough to make Phil's hand slide down to his elbow, but just as quickly he's bringing his own hand up to grab Phil's sleeve. His grip is fierce.

"See?" Phil says, trying to smile. "Real."

"You're dead," Grant says, firm. He can feel the warmth in the hand on his arm, pain gathering in his throat. "You died." And his voice cracks.

He wants to believe, he is believing.

"I was. I did. For seven minutes." Tiny uncomfortable shrug. "Didn't stick, I'm afraid."

Grant blinks in the face of a tombstone (PHILIP J COULSON) chiseled with words he'd agonized over, how to sum up the man who had saved him long before saving the world (A HERO GOING HOME). He'd run his fingers over sharp-edged epitaph (PSALM 91:4), glad when it cut, when cold stone drew warm blood.

He blinks again, stares into worried hazel eyes, grips flesh and bone, and oh...

"It's been seven months!" Anger, fresh pain erupting through the layers of cooled magma. "What the hell, Dad?!" He rips away, stalks across the room, turns back to glare. "You couldn't be bothered to call, to tell me?! In seven months? I thought– I thought I meant something to you!"

"Grant, you do, I swear." Guilt settles heavy on Phil's heart as he steps forward, reaching. "Fury had me on lockdown, and then you were in the field, and I didn't want to do this until I knew we'd have time."

"I buried you!"

Maria was right, Phil thinks. Grant stalks back toward him.

"And you wanna know what I did after? I put a gun in my mouth, because of you!"

Grant's in his face now, and Phil's stomach drops like he's just been pushed out of a plane.

"You know that place where we used to go fishing? That creek? Yeah, that's where I went. And I put a gun to my head. Because I couldn't– I couldn't– I didn't want to live without–"

There are tears in his eyes now, dampening the fire, and Phil reaches up, lays hand gentle on muscled shoulder.

"But you did," he says softly. "You did live. I'm proud of you, son." He puts special weight on the last word, deliberate. "And now we get another chance. I doubt I can make it up to you, but I want to be here for you. Will you let me at least have that?"

Grant's always been tall, chin up, spit blood, graceful in a cold sort of way. Phil thinks Rose is the only other who has seen that guard truly come down. It's falling now, Grant's head dropping to hide welling emotion, shoulders slumping under Phil's hands, and then it's as if Grant himself is falling, falling and reaching, but he's already caught, and Phil pulls him in, holds him tight as he crumbles.

Grant's grip on him is painfully fierce, but he takes it, he'll take anything for this man he'd watched grow up, from a messed up kid, to a hopeful young agent, to one of SHIELD's best.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm here."

Tall man, bent and bowed into his dad's embrace, Grant hides his face against Coulson's neck and sobs.

Maria slips out, leans back against the door, knuckles a few tears out of her eyes. She still thinks Coulson is making a mistake, selecting someone he's so close to for his new team; he's always avoided working with Grant for that reason. But any man would be changed by facing death, she figures. Not to mention facing things he didn't even remember. A wince at the thought of Grant finding out what had been done. Well, as long as all went according to plan, neither of them ever would.

Grant doesn't cry for long; that's never been his way. He lifts his head, eases back, takes Phil's offered handkerchief.

"You still carry these?" he asks hoarsely, blows his nose.

"What do you think I mop the blood up with?"

The same pointed humor, the way they always joked about close calls, and Grant's lungs feel like they have more room in his chest. He hands the crumpled cloth back, smirks at Coulson's little nose wrinkle. "And that's what saved you."

Coulson chuckles, the air in the room lifts. Grant's still unsteady, still taking it in. But he believes now.

"So how much time have we got?" he asks, sticks his hands in his pockets.

"Plenty." Phil smiles up at him, sun coming out to warm him again at last. "I'm putting together a long-term team, and Fury, well, he owes me plenty. So I get to pick anyone I want."

"Except her." Grant jerks his head toward the door, and he's grinning like an idiot, but he can't help it. On a team with Coulson? For the foreseeable future? Oh, he is so ready.

"Anyone I outrank," Phil corrects himself, eyes laughing back. "You'll be getting a promotion to Level Seven—already have actually since you know about me."

"I'm in."

A raised eyebrow, and Grant tries to settle, temper the excitement in his tone. He's supposed to be cool, after all. "Sure. Count me in. And don't worry," he adds, "I'll make sure not to call you 'dad' in front of the team. Don't want to ruin that cold-hearted reputation."

A full on chuckle from Coulson, and Grant can't help it, he steps back in for one more hug, to feel the solid flesh and bone and beating heart against him.

"Yes, that reputation," Coulson mutters, hugging him back.

When they emerge, all banter and business, Maria lets herself relax. Maybe some things can be normal again.

[codecicle-archive]

Congratulations on figuring out there are multiple people in your brain btw. I saw a while ago you posting about it being unsure so, YAY YOU FIGURED IT OUT!! LETSGOOOO!!! HELLO CHARLIE AND OTHER CODECICLE ALTERS!!!! YAAAYYYY!!!!!

FIGURED IT OUT!!! It really is crazy I didn't figure it out sooner, but I just assumed I was weird and didn't talk to anybody about it. Made a joke about it after multiple years of hiding it from everyone (and myself) and got told by multiple people "Hey yeah you're not normal go research stop feeling scared" and I did and now I'm friends with the people in my brain 🔥🔥 huge wins all around! LETSGOOO WOOOOOOOO CHEERING YAAAY!! Everyone rattling around up here says hi back!!!

[alchemiclee]

I really hate when people say this. if I dont record, I cant "enjoy it in the moment" because I dissociate out of my damn mind and then have no memory of it! recording helps ground me and keep me focused in the moment! let me do what I need to in order to enjoy things you soggy potato 😭

plus, as a photographer/aspiring videographer who hasn't had the luck to become friends with bands and work with them, IM DOING A THING I ENJOY AS WELL, SO SHUT UP LMAO. I enjoy doing video and photos MORE than standing in a crowded, overwhelming room watching people do stuff on a stage. THATS LIYERALLY ME LIVING IN THE MOMENT DOING A THING I ENJOY!!!!! WHY IS THAT WRONG?!