#for his health

[teecupangel]

This is gonna be long, honey soooo… buckle up.

We have Desmond linked to the God of Wine, Dionysus / Bacchus with this fic (show some love and kudos this please, I adore this concept).

However, what if Desmond by chance ( Isu bullshit)  that he absorbed when he touched the Eye as he time travels back In the Renaissance before the Auditore family execution event, it manifested in him having demi-god traits but with two Gods I have in mind.

1. Aphrodite or Venus, goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation. Accidentally becoming a matchmaker for people like Des incidentally shoved a man by mistake who the man then bumped into a woman, BOOM! the two madly fell in love at first sight and married with children or his charm increases, making people fall in love with Desmond. This adds angst if Desmond discovered this power,  He has low self-esteem and is severely traumatized (fuck you William for that). He would believe they really don’t love him especially the assassins and it’s just a illusion they do. Actually they do, the power only boosted his charisma but Desmond doesn’t know this shhhhh.

2. Eros or Cupid, god of carnal love. 16 year old Desmond with his newfound freedom after running away from the Farm. It’s no surprise he could be a sexually liberated man especially he’s a hot bartender to hook up in the back alley of Bad Weather. He might dabbled in BDSM, he’s a switch, but preferably doms. He also got a vasectomy to avoid impregnating a woman no Elijah in thishe believes that he shouldn’t have children, after having narcissistic father and possibly an emotionally neglectful mother can do that. An ability to sense lust or desires of a person in eagle vision could be possible.

With that being explained, regardless of which God, these abilities have pros & cons. Desmond when he is in the Renaissance, he’ll be low-key but he can’t stand out and without the currency to have a peaceful life, we needs a job. By some gift of the universe or it hates him. He ended up as a bodyguard of Rosa in Fiore by saving some courtesans from aggressive drunken men while in his clothes devolved in rags by the heat of the Eye when arrived, making him look like a beggar, good thing it was night time so his face wasn’t seen by the girls.

Its been weeks doing this job, Desmond have saved plenty coins but not enough to buy land far away and live his life maybe as a farmer or open a tavern. Lately, he been feeling unwell, no matter he drank to quench his thirst, his throat is dry as if he been in dessert with no water survive and started having hot flashes. It could just because of the clothes he donned, not a single silver lining of his skin is shown except the upper part of his face and hair but he was assumed it was if it were the fact he started having wet dreams, from memory of his many hook ups in New York or some constructed with people with no faces. He gets aroused, yes, but he has self-restraint but he also frustrated and losing his rationale.

“Dezmund~” Bianca, a courtesan who been attempting to lure him to bed. The other courtesans entertaining the patrons who had too much wine, too busy to notice the two, giving them a sense of privacy. “Bianca” he nodded with one brow raised at her. Bianca practically started to entice him with her usual flirting to him. You know what, fuck it, he thought, he proceeded to ———————

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Yeeeaaaahhhh…i won’t be too detailed so it won’t be overbearing. So giving you the mental picture is that Desmond used his knowledge of BDSM, blindfoled and tied Bianca and used her mouth to empty his frustration while he is still completely clothed. He gave her sweet aftercare and realizing his symptoms are gone and his mind is clear and —- oh fuccccckkkkkk he unintentionally created a chain reaction after this event involving himself more to the Brotherhood, the Auditore family and Leonardo

Anyway, thanks for reading this till the end, mwah <3

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Additions by teecup:

… that sounds like Desmond has the curse of an Incubus, needing to ‘unload’ his pent up energy to another person.

And you know who would be fascinated by it?

Leonardo Da Vinci.

Perhaps it was during one of the times that Leonardo went to a brothel to find ‘inspiration’. Maybe it was because he had been nursing a crush on Desmond who was unattainable to his eyes, a simple bodyguard meant to keep everyone safe.

He would see the complicated expression on his face. The frustration in his eyes.

And the flushed cheeks.

Oh, Leonardo would be smitten but he’d try to act like a friend, as any attraction he might have pales in comparison to his worries concerning Desmond’s wellbeing.

Desmond sees him and finds himself being unable to lie to Leonardo.

He needed to tell someone about his problems and he trusted Leonardo.

So Leonardo listens and…

Things start to snowball from there.

At first, it was simply Leonardo trying to help Desmond while studying his ‘affliction’.

Then it became more for the thrill and pleasure they would receive from one another.

Desmond becomes Leonardo’s muse and sometimes his model…

Maria Auditore saw Leonardo’s potential and started commissioning him…

Federico comes in to get one of the finished commissions and… finds Leonardo and Desmond in a very compromising situation.

Instead of leaving… Federico decided to join in.

And Desmond knew that Federico was hiding something but it would be a while before he realized that during this time, two years before the fated day that the Auditores would be executed, Federico was already on his way to becoming a member of the Brotherhood…

…

Also… maybe Leonardo and Desmond have an open relationship which will give us more option for Desmond to ‘partner’ up with (like maybe… La Volpe??? XD)

[acepalindrome]

The thing is I do love Astarion, but I love dunking on him at every opportunity even more.

[sighcomics]

practise disappearing

[jay-wasstuff]

-

Bonus: the old man (+insp)

[pangur-and-grim]

here are Belphie's x-rays from a couple weeks ago! I'm not a vet, so I don't know what to zero in on here, but they show a "dilated right sided heart with moderate amount of pericardial effusion".

in other words, the right side of his heart is too big, and there's fluid all around it. which is bad! we don't want fluid!

it's very possible that FIP has messed with his heart (and there is precedence of the virus doing this exact thing), which means that it should improve with more time on the medication. but it's also possible that this is an underlying structural problem. I'm hoping it's the former, because if it's the latter, he'll likely have a shortened lifespan.

the only way to find out is to let him recover from FIP, and then check all his insides again. and in the meantime, he'll be getting plenty of medically prescribed kisses to the forehead!

[flawlessflesh]

thistle clowning around!

[canisalbus]

✦ Come hell or high water ✦

[mugiwara-lucy]

Kamala will make the FUNNIEST president in all of American history 😂

[thebibliosphere]

Still not over the head of cardiology, who said she wouldn't formally diagnose me with dysautonomia because she didn't want me to think of myself as disabled.

As if good vibes and a can-do attitude can stabalize autonomic dysfunction.

[mamaclownhunter]

Ok I lied I have art that was too fun not to share

Listen- I need combative “I hate you bro but I would also die for you” platonic cumplane

I need Shang Quinghua calling Shen Quingqui a hussy and a harlot

I need Shen Quingqui to respond with a full bodied cathartic “bitch” I need them to be venting out frustrations every 2 seconds and ruthlessly gossiping the next. I need them to immediately turn on anyone that talks shit on the other.

Pls for my health.

[changelingbaby]

omg i just clicked back to my fic doc and reread the last sentence and it is SO aggressively sexual out of context and i giggled out loud like my writing comes off as so 'clueless asexual' sometimes

[ikiprian]

Ghost Kitchen (brought to you by criminal entrepreneur, Red Hood)

Danny’s got the easiest job in Gotham.

He works as a fry cook at a shoddily-run, independent burger joint. Hardly anyone comes in, despite prices being criminally low, and portions insanely large, and while the manager looks like the average tough-as-nails ex-con, he lets Danny mess around in the kitchen whenever the place is empty. (Which is often. This place has to be the city’s hidden gem or something!)

Mr. Manager’s the only one ever there with Danny, except for sometimes when his buddies come over to smoke and play cards. Danny would find it shady, except part of his job is not to ask questions. Literally, he was told during the interview.

(It was a weird interview. Why would they need to hire someone who’s been in a gunfight before? Like, he has, but Gotham’s idea of “hirable qualities” is so bizarre.)

So instead he whips up some killer burgers with the frozen ingredients, and basks in the praise as the guys tell him he shouldn’t have, he does too much for this joint, ain’t that friendly!

Now, Danny’s a chef on the newer side. As a teen he’d preferred the look of Nasty Burger over anything with Michelin stars, and he only really took up cooking after Jazz moved out for college. But just like ecto-exposure used to turn the groceries sentient, Danny’s low-level ecto signature imbues all his food with something historically haunted Gothamites just love! And Danny’s never been one to half-ass a job when it makes people happy.

With fresher produce, real meat, Danny’s sure he can take his dishes to the next level. It takes a couple months of badgering, but his manager finally agrees to contact the mysterious store owner, who keeps the place going, despite profits Danny knows have to be in the red.

Danny spends the morning prepping. He pours his heart into his food, eager to impress. The big boss will be here soon, and he wants to prove that despite the dangerous location, this place has real potential!

It isn’t until the Red Hood shows up that Danny realizes he’s been working for a money laundering scheme.

[turnsbouts]

top 10 ways to come out at work

[wangxianbaybee]

"Your flowers."

"You're welcome, I gave them to you."

[candlebel]

Amo al robopayaso. xd

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP - DeAged

The Nasty Burger explosion took a lot from Danny.

Stopping Dan meant nothing when Danny lost everything. His friends, his parents, his sister, his teacher - all gone. Danny, desperate to not become Dan, fled. He would not let Vlad destroy the only thing he had left; himself. He didn't turn human again if he could avoid it. Let Danny Fenton die with his family.

He did what he could, trying to keep it all together. Avoid Vlad. Catch havoc-wreaking ghosts. Try to not have a panic attack every time he saw his reflection. FentonWorks became out-of-bounds. No one was sure how to turn off the portal or any of the house's defence mechanisms so it was taped up instead.

Danny kept the GIW away. They wanted his parents' research, even if they had to bend the law to get it. Danny would not let them have it. Never.

But the GIW was persistent and Danny weak from nearly two months of being Phantom and nothing else. He was so tired. Tired from grieving, from fighting, from wandering around, completely lost and alone.

The GIW got a lucky shot in. Danny went down. He woke up, still ghost, somewhere white. He'd trained himself not to have to turn back. He was grateful he did.

The GIW studied him. Danny did not have the energy to fight back. The will to survive. Curled up in his cell, bloody and becoming less human with every passing day, Clockwork finally intervened.

He could not let the future High King wither away into nothing.

With Nocturn's help, he whisked him away. His world was dying anyway. With no one to maintain the portal, it would soon overload and explode. The radiation would kill all life on Earth, leaving nothing behind, and taking with it the potential for new life. One world among infinite realities meant nothing. But Danny, as High King, is a singularity. A unique existence, only found in one reality. Clockwork, for the sake of everything that lives and dies, could not let Danny fade away.

Danny slept at the Far Frozen, dreaming of his family, his friends, and the stars he would one day rule over. He healed, wounds knitting together into scars and fractured core slowly, ever so slowly, repairing itself. A future Ancient, bound to protect all that is and will be, was bound to be very badly hurt from such a loss.

Clockwork only wished he could have done more, but to remove Danny too early would have spelt disaster worse than the deaths of billions. This boy would someday be someone he'd proudly call his grandson. Seeing that future alone was enough to make his own core ache for the young one.

The Infinite Realms wept for its child, still but a babe yet having suffered so much. It embraced its future King, blessing him with its loyalty and adoration. The ghosts of the realms, spread far and wide over distant realities, timelines and worlds, felt the loss too.

Danny healed, unaware of how loved and precious he was to so many - how far he was from alone. The dead's sudden quiet unsettled many. Enemies froze in the silent mourning, animosity forgotten. Raging wars came to abrupt ends. So many, unable to bear the ever-reaching, unidentifiable pain in the air killed themselves. Good, kind people cried alone.

Magic users, like Constantine and Zatanna, hid, waiting out the Infinite Realm's despair for its child. No one spoke of it, for fear of disrespecting the dimension between dimensions. But they hid, and they waited, and they couldn't help but worry for themselves and everything and everyone else.

Danny got a lot of visitors. Ancients, regular ghosts, crowded around his bed, gifting him blessings and support. Danny slept, he healed, and his world died, taking with it all he'd known. He wouldn't remember or know of any of this when he woke  - even the memories of his pleasant dreams will have left him. He'll awaken and think himself entirely alone.

But he'll know, someday.

Clockwork will make sure of it.

---

Danny doesn't know where he is or who he is.

He has a vague idea. His name. His life and his death. But so much is so distant, like impressions on sand, washed away by the ocean. He knows he should be bigger. He knows this isn't home. He knows there is no home anymore.

He knows there are people he misses, but he doesn't know who they are or where they've gone. He knows so little yet so much. White walls and orange hair, green (toxic, writhing green) and hazmat suits, white and black and orange and blue. Expensive, Packers-branded cologne, burning flesh, the scream of an alarm and laughter and fear and hope and love and pain and loss. Disjointed flashes, snippets of another life.

And this isn't familiar - this city and these people. These crowded, filthy streets aren't home, but there's no home anymore so of course they aren't. And maybe Danny should be afraid. He doesn't know where he is, or how he got here. There are people, so tall, walking around him not sparing him a glance. It's loud and smelly and so much to process all at once.

But Danny doesn't care because he's so tired, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep the day away. But he doesn't have a home, so obviously he doesn't have a bed either. He looks around for somewhere else to sleep, rubbing at his chest subconsciously as he does.

There, a building, on the other side of the road. The windows are tinted, but the doors open and Danny, through the crowds and passing traffic, catches a glimpse of what has to be a couch. Maybe the people that own the building will let him sleep on their couch for a little bit.

So he crosses the street, sticking close to the legs of some lady with skinny heels that go tap-tap-tap so the cars don't go because they can't see him. The lady turns to go a different way after but it's okay because Danny is in front of the building now.

He pushes the door open and slips inside. It's quieter inside, and warmer. Danny wasn't cold outside but in here there's a nice heat that makes him feel even sleepier. He looks around at the fancy chairs and potted plants and lights, and is happy to see there are couches. Long couches, with lots of pillows and space for him to spread out.

He walks up to the desk. He's too short to see over it, and it makes him kind of angry because he's sure he's supposed to be taller. But he figures maybe he remembers wrong because people don't just shrink. Except, he's a halfa so maybe ghosts do?

"Hello?"

There's a lady here too, behind the desk, but unlike the one he followed across the street she has short, curly hair. Danny wonders if she's wearing skinny heels too. Leaning his head back, he can see her look up, glance around, and then look back down.

Danny pouts. Did she not see him?

"Hello?"

He waves an arm this time, reaching as high as he can to catch her attention. She finally sees him, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, sorry! Hello." She has a nice voice.

"Your voice is pretty."

She smiles, and Danny decides her smile is nice too. "Why thank you. You have a pretty voice too. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Can I please sleep on your couch? Just for a little bit."

"Of course you can. Would you like a blanket? I could fetch one for you from the staff room."

Danny shakes his head. "I'm okay. Thank you."

"Alright. But if you change your mind, do tell me."

"You're very nice."

"Thank you, but it's really no problem. Not much to do today anyway."

"You should sleep too then. Sleep is good."

She giggles. "That is a very good idea. I just might take your advice." Danny nods. He has lots of good ideas. "Okay. I'm gonna' go nap now. Bye-bye."

"Sleep well."

There are a few couches, and for a bit Danny's not sure which one to sleep on. He chooses the one with the most pillows. It's very comfy, and the pillows are nice too. He puts one under his head and hugs another, curling up around it. He falls asleep in seconds.

-

When a toddler with black and blue eyes asked to sleep on one of the couches on in the reception hall of Wayne enterprises, May had assumed he was one of Bruce's boys. He certainly fit the type Gotham's favourite playboy liked to adopt, and it wasn't unusual for his wards to show up out of the blue.

Once she found Tim Drake passed out on the floor under her desk. Apparently, he'd been hiding from Dick who was visiting from Blüdhaven and forgot to bring his coffee with him, consequently falling asleep while he waited for her to arrive so he could ask her to go pick some up for him. That had been an interesting Thursday morning. 

On another memorable occasion, Cass, Bruce's only official daughter, and her girlfriend Steph had shown up, said hi, went upstairs, then came back down after about an hour, giggling as they ran out with a wave goodbye. Not even ten minutes later, Bruce himself stumbled out of the elevator, absolutely covered in purple glitter. May remembers raising an eyebrow and asking if Bruce wanted her to have another suit brought in.

He'd ended up collapsing on one of the couches with an exhausted sigh, and said he'd have Alfred pick him up instead. He left a sparkly trail behind him when he walked, and the couch he sat on had to be replaced because, even after numerous cleaning attempts, no one could get the glitter out. He had glitter in his hair for months afterwards.

So, May hadn't bat an eye when the little boy came in. Well aware Bruce had several meetings scheduled that day, she sent him an email saying one of his kids was taking a nap in the reception hall and resolved to look out for the boy herself. Throughout the day, she made sure to check on him often, making sure no one picked him up ran (this was Gotham after all).

He slept soundly for most of her work day, barely shifting. She ended up putting a blanket on him herself during her lunch break and leaving him a water bottle and little snack for when he woke up. She also made sure security kept an eye on him whenever she left for whatever reason.

It was well into the afternoon when Bruce finally replied to her email and asked if his kid was still sleeping downstairs. She said yes, and not long after he arrived on the ground level. He walked up to her desk and asked if his kid had caused her any trouble. She smiled and assured him no.

Then Bruce asked where Tim was.

"Sorry? Tim isn't here today."

Bruce frowned, looking just as confused as she felt. "My apologies. You said one of my wards was asleep here. I assumed it was Tim."

"Oh! No, no, it's not Tim. Well, I don't actually know his name but the little guy has been here since this morning." She gestured to the toddler in question.

Bruce turned around, saw him, and frowned. "He's not one of mine."

"He's not?"

"No. Are you sure he's not an employee's child?" He kept his eyes on the boy, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Yes, I am. Only three employees brought in their children today, and all of them are ten or above. He can't be older than five." She frowned now too, turning to her computer to double check. "I'll send out a company-wide email to be sure. I should have done this sooner. I'm sorry, I was just so sure he was under your care."

"It's alright, May. I'm not upset. I'm just worried about him. When about in the morning did he get here?"

She glanced up, but Bruce was still looking at the sleeping boy. "A little after nine."

"And he's been sleeping all that time?"

"Yes, as far as I'm aware."

"Alright. Thank you for looking after him. I'll take it from here."

"Of course, sir. I'll reach out to you if anyone identifies him."

He nodded appreciatively and walked over to the boy. She watched, frustrated with herself. She's worked as one of Wayne Enterprise's receptionists for over four years. She should have known better than to just assume some random, black haired blue eyed child was Bruce's kid. She should have at least reached out to make sure that was the case.

She sighed as Bruce knelt down by the couch and gently shook the little boy awake, resting her head in the palm of her hand. This poor child. His poor parents. They must be worried sick.

She has to make this right.

---