#let's call this timeline..........

[mariako-750]

Vicsec Mini Comic!!:D

POV: You've never been given a gift, but everytime you have seen someone get one, they kiss the other person, so you take that as the default response when your finally gifted something

(As you can see, I'm not good with POVs)

[avephelis]

twenties mutant ninja turtles or whatever you call it

[softcenteregg]

// in every age, keep chasing after me // ❤️💛

[fluffypotatey]

okay so:

the year is 2021. the month is june. the new season of hermitcraft, season 8, has just started, and everything is great! the hermits are all messing around, having fun, building insane things within the first week of the server being active, and generally having a good time. everyone's collected themselves into little factions, pranking each other, and it's all the fun, lighthearted, mostly-vanilla content hermitcraft is known for.

and then the split between minecraft versions 1.18 and 1.19 is announced. the delay of new terrain, and especially of new mobs like the warden, considerably disrupt several of the hermits' plans. but it's fine, they'll figure something out, they're professionals, and it mostly goes unnoticed.

about two weeks later, on november 9th, grian turns to mumbo jumbo in one of his episodes, and asks the famous question that would seal hermitcraft season 8's fate:

"mumbo, is the moon... big?"

suddenly, the fans panic. they search back through videos and streams, and realize that the moon had been abnormally large and stuck in a full-moon phase since october 30th. the Moon Big event has begun.

this is where the roleplay really starts. once the moon's size has been brought up, the hermits start a weird combination of scrambling to figure out why the moon's growing, and how to stop it- but also of ignoring it, hoping it won't be a problem, hoping someone else will deal with it. the moon keeps getting bigger, more hermits start realizing it's going on, and a creeping sense of dread starts to grow. but it's fine. it's fine, right? they do little plotlines like this all the time. they'll figure something out, the moon will go back to normal, and we'll laugh about it when this is all over. it's fine.

and then, blocks start flying away. just floating up out of the ground, and falling right back down! like for a moment, a square meter chunk of dirt has decided it's a ballerina and leaped out of the ground! but it's fine, right? the blocks are coming back. no lasting harm is done. they're going to fix it all... right?

the moon gets bigger. it's growing every day- local hermit weirdguy joe hills measures it every stream. the blocks start flying higher. gravity starts getting... weird, with players getting the slow falling effect at random, and being lifted off of the earth themselves. the players form cults and rituals and whatnot to try and appease the moon, convince it to leave them alone, making plans to escape. nothing works. things keep getting worse, and the moon keeps getting bigger. but it'll be fine. these storylines never leave lasting harm, or at least they never have before. they'll be fine.

and then the blocks stop coming back, just floating into the sky forever. the players have the slow falling effect more than they don't now. the moon is now so big it's visible even during the day, and fills the entire sky at night. they start planning their escapes in earnest, and say their goodbyes. some hermits jump into a void hole in the overworld (it was the centerpiece of their village). some flee to the End, some to the nether, some just fly with elytras and hope they can get far enough away in time. one brave hermit, tango, flies himself to the moon in a futile attempt to blow the whole thing up before it can crash.

but in the end, the moon crashes into the server, and everything they'd built was destroyed. and the whole time, there'd been nothing any of them could've done. season eight was over, a full six months before anyone had expected it to end, and season nine wouldn't start until about three months later. and im still not okay about it.

(here's a cool animatic of the moon's crash! honestly i dont think you need too much hermitcraft knowledge to get the gist)

(also the moon crash happened on the day before my birthday lmao.)

….

holy shit

[trappednyourheart]

The wrong DNA test

( what if, Sheila wasn't really Jason's mother? The system is already corrupted, then what about the test?).

A huge brawl containing every rogue had started at the time of Halloween, causing the people from downtown to fled there home's as joker had clownized the whole neighborhood with his goon's.

Every bats had taken to groups to take out the three parts of Gotham's as the rogue's had started to make alliances, some had lasted quite long while had conflicts, and causing a big damage to Arkham asylum,

It didn't take long before they captured all of them, none of the bats questions as they observed Jason glowing green eyes starting to flick, they thought it was the pit again, growing wary of the cooperation, but Crime alley was involved and that mean business to Red hood's turf.

Catherine todd love her son as her own even if not biological, Jason knew that. But her thing with drugs couldn't make her stop.

Sometimes after that, they could hear Jason humming a tune,a nice melody from Damian's statement saying that Jason muttered to him “ lullaby” as Jason continued to read his book, maybe it could be from Catherine,

they knew how Jason's past with Catherine todd, his mom even if not related, Catherine loves her son like her own kid but her doing drugs and... overdosing couldn't be stop.

Maybe Jason just remembered his mother maybe reminiscing atleast something familiar...even if it was a bad time.

Jason had constantly have been hearing a woman's? Man's? Voice, singing him a lullaby...it soothing, like as if he known and loved this melody...and that's where the dreams kept coming, there was a person, giving him kisses, Talkin to him stories, singing him lullabies and soothing him, he could dream that he was actually a baby, a baby from a normal couple, well don't count the luxurious baby room.

Jason had took out a conspiracies why he was getting this dreams, ( he swears he's not becoming Tim) and voices, maybe like a misshapen memories from the pits of victims? No it's to peaceful for that, maybe magic? He already contacted Constantine but surely hang up after knowing who it was-

Just how is he getting this dreams? Unless it wasn't.... So he proved again his point, he started a DNA test, again but none had records...of Sheila being his biological mother...that was weird, last time he had a test was from the time as robin..and before his-

So he went to that hospital who had said where Sheila had given birth to him, and most of shock is that no one knows a mother giving birth named Sheila haywood but had a document of a baby, of one Jason jay nightingale, the most believing part was that it's the same day he was born in.

His mother, Daniel F. Nightingale was said to be trans as the doctor who help his mother safely delivered him, And saying that his mother loved him,

one Sheila Haywood had the constant trick to get him and taken him as his own, because his mother's family was a wealthy one they practically sold him to her.

Jason had thought that maybe his mother's family never wanted him to have a son with a man from Gotham's crime alley.

Meanwhile Danny had just been YEETED to the DC universe before the start of Batman's justice thing and had been adopted by a very wealthy fruit loops couple as there kid, so he stayed as the couples daughter even pretending, because he owed ghost writer a favor for the last time, and as DC universe exist so it's story, and one thing for sure the child he had to give birth in this universe has a very complicated fate,

he did the one night stand from his supposed friend Willis Todd? He had to befriend him as Dalia F. nightingale the supposed Wealthy daughter who fell in love with a peasant trope, and gotten pregnant making it a scandal, and reaching to his ‘parents’ circle and getting that drama.

But he never thought he would care for his child, his little jay, his ghost side would purr in delight when they held Jason, he was a very hard sucker especially from his pacifier or his breast, it's so weird being in a women body,

but the way his ‘parents’ sold his son to the women who was supposed to get his son killed and being revived by cheap parody ass of ectoplasm.

He went feral, he had an argument to his ‘parents’ but all fell deaf ears, he couldn't find his son in one of the hotels nearby where that BXtch was.

And that time was where his part of the script was fulfilled, ghost writer already took him, both sides of his, were angry.

He. will. get. his. baby. back.

[tippenfunkaport]

That viral post that's going around about how people who write "book quality" mlm fic are too "normal" to publish and have real jobs so only "weird" people publish their "shitty" fanfic is so completely out of touch with reality and I am giving a massive side eye to everyone reblogging it.

Not only is it completely, easily verifiably untrue (you cannot enter any professional writing space without tripping over a dozen grizzled scifi writers who got their start by filing off the serial numbers and publishing their Star Trek fanfic even going back decades ago??? it's a whole thing?? plus how can you look at the mlm category on Amazon right now and say with a straight face that people aren't publishing shitty Spirk and Stucky fanfic??? Oh, honey...) it's also the perfect example of this kind of sneering elitism that true artists would never sully themselves by seeking profit, they do it only for the purity of the thing that always somehow leads back to, "no one should be paid to make art, actually."

The only reason you're seeing more published fanfic right now has nothing to do with the idealistic purity of your hypothetical government employee written smut of the past vs the debased scribbles of those awful straights of today and everything to do with the fact that a) self-publishing has created a voracious readership that wants a ton of content so it's become a viable, flexible income stream for many, especially disabled people b) anyone can publish now with self-publishing tools so there are less gatekeepers and c) lockdown got a lot of people into fandom and therefore writing who never tried it before.

And if you really think there's no "shitty" published mlm and no "book-quality" m/f writing out there that started as fanfic, then you are clearly not a reader so why are you even talking about this?

[jeeaark]

Quite a coincidence that all the 'The Illustrated Adventures of Balduran' Books that you find all have the same saucy pages about Balduran loopholing out of a devil's deal are torn out. Quite a coincidence indeed.

Anyway, I may have taken a particular letter from the Emperor the wrong way when I drew this. About telling you to take comfort in the old life so long as it doesn't hold you back from the new. I'm now sure it was meant to be a kind word of advice based off personal experience, but hrm. Grey's going through a 'Don't tell me what to do' illithid rebeillion phase.

Perhaps the Emperor was trying to help them mentally prepare for letting go when the time comes. Perhaps meta about the game, or at the party, or even if/when you outlive your friends. Because they do get rather hungry when a companion bids them farewell at the reunion, so maybe the struggle to let go triggers the urge to hold on to them forever. By eating their brains. Grey stops having an illithid rebellion phase and takes Emps' advice to heart after that.

[mayhasopinions]

what in the lgbt even was this scene (see tags for discussion)

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

DPxDC Prompt

Thinking back on it, Danny probably should have been more wary of being given the title ‘Ender Of Timelines’.

[aeb-art]

soooo… i did another comic with geo (who of course belongs to @8um8le)! it ending up stretching the page quite a bit, so the rest is under the cut o7

and geo proceeded to win every single round of pool that night, the end, thank you for reading this far 🙇

i'm still not super confident in writing for geo, but i had too much fun with this to care ehehe 🥰 this is the year of indulgence, everyone!

edit: i just realized that I PUT THE CIRCUITS ON THE WRONG ARM! it's supposed to be on my right not my left, oh i'm so mad 😭💔

[random-lil-illing]

i'm reading the call of duty : ghosts wikis (like the character wikis) and i am fighting for my life trying to figure this fucking timeline out

for reference i'm on the fandom/call of duty wiki

okay so lets start with keegan. he was a part of the original 15 ghosts that survived operation sand viper in 2005. prior to that he was in the usmc. he was born in 1989, which means that he was 16 in operation sand viper?? granted ajax was like 17 at the time but still?? apparently the legal age to join the usmc is 17, but keegan joined before 16 apparently???

also why was keegan not on the almagro mission when he was on the sand viper operation. like. why. and why did he apparently disappear at the end of the game??

i know this is most likely very incorrect information, but this is what the wiki told me. if anyone who has better knowledge on cod:ghosts wants to educate/correct me please do. i am begging. i want to know everything correctly about this game (i dont have the game and cant play it but my brain wont shut up about it)

also if the wiki is to be trusted hesh and logan are both gen z. i dont know how to feel about the fact that those two are the same gen as me

[jaymber]

Uh. Psych (2006) is definitely turning into something I'm way too much into....

Can't remember the last show I watched for which I get such strong headcanons (like Jules & Lassie living together from S04E16 to S06E09) without having to bend canon... at all.

Listen, the whole polyclue thing for me is as canon as Shawn's bisexuality rn (started season 7): it's too obvious to be confirmed 😌

I'm gonna need to rewatch it 3+ times and write at least 124 fics of "missing scenes" about it to get it off my system...

[todayisafridaynight]

caller / receiver

[only-one-brain-cell]

I MISSED SPENCER AND PENELOPE WORKING TOGETHER

Emily: well leave you to it

Spencer: let’s start with E

Pen: are you flirting with me?

Spence: 🤨

Pen: cause E happens to be my favourite vowel

[kayzero]

Quark’s Dreamlike Defibrillation Drabble

You’re sleeping.

Nothing else makes sense.

“Clear.”

Yeah, why else would you feel your heartbeat so clearly? So strong that it’s a little bit painful, beating so heavily that it leaves achey little aftershocks in your chest after every pulse. Thundering and powerful, like you’ve received a shock of lightning from the king of gods himself.

But you only just learned of gods, of Zeus, of Olympus. It was a brand new story from a brand new book—not a super old book from Before, but something totally new. Something made just for you.

It was better than that one book that con artist tried to trick you with—that thing was super old and super thick, yeah, and normally you like that kinda stuff, but only ‘cause you like stories, and people have only barely started writing good stories again, just like people have only started having kids again.

The guy said that it was like a thousand stories in one book, that the book was only falling apart since it was so long and so old, and obviously it was worth a whole bunch just because it was a… it was… an ant-fall-chief…?

“Anthology?”

It was a stupid word, you just started calling it a book-book, ‘cause it was a book full of books, Grandpa said it had full stories instead of chapters!

Grandpa is dead.

…No, he isn’t…

“…”

Yeah… he just got you the best Christmas present ever, just last month. That con artist jerk wanted to sell you the book-book for half of that day’s scavenge, and it was a really really good day of scavenging too! He didn’t even do any work himself, and there wasn’t anything wrong with him either, ‘cause he had to run to catch up with you, and he wasn’t even puffing afterwards, and he had to carry that stupid book with both arms ‘cause that’s how bad it was falling apart.

He just wanted a bunch of your stuff for nothing, nothing but a stupid book that maybe you were a little bit interested in, sure, but you’re not stupid like he musta been, and you told him so and you walked away, pulling your smaller part of the haul while Grandpa pushed his heavier cart behind you.

Grandpa is dead.

It jolts you like a second thunderbolt, it must have gone from your chest up to your brain, because your lungs catch and your nose hurts and your face feels wet. It feels like you’re crying, which reinforces the idea that you’re dreaming, because you were crying on that day too, after you told that con artist off, because you really really did want that book, but you needed supplies more, and your scavenge was so big that Grandpa had to make three trips to trade it all.

You have to be dreaming because he can’t be dead like your brain is trying to tell you, because he wouldn’t leave you alone. Even when you thought you were alone and you it was safe to cry because you really wanted the book full of books, he must have still been there because he knew, and the very next month on Christmas Day he gave you your own story book.

Your book was brand new, made just for you. Every chapter was for a different group of gods from different religions that didn’t worship Brother and Radical-6, and every page had a different god, with their own description and summary and a few fun facts and a list of ‘Myths’, which were all super awesome stories that could be told verbally, so they didn’t take up space and make the book super huge so it would never fall apart.

Every night before bed, you could pick out a new Myth, like how Zeus saved the Olympians and became the King of the Gods, and Grandpa would tell you the story, and it would be the last thing you heard before you fell asleep, which was way better than just reading them.

Grandpa is dead.

The thought thunders through your head, another shock to your system, another bolt from the divide… No…? The defied? Delight? Dim light…?

“Divine...”

Divine. Dih v-eye nn. Godly, or of godlike quality. A new word that you just learned from your new book that you just got for Christmas just last week. Why would you use a new word you only just heard, or think about a king you only just read about, or feel your heart beat way too strong in the wrong part of your chest, direct center of your chest, the middle of your body, perfectly aligned to receive and deliver blood everywhere evenly, except every diagram ever says that it should be somewhere off to the left, between your lung and your ribs.

Painful heartbeat, impossibly centered, painful thoughts, impossibly overpowering.

But anything is possible in a dream.

So you let the distressing thought wash away, dream that it gets pushed down your bloodstream with every beat of your thundering heart, and watch it get smaller and smaller as it slowly disappears, along with the last of your divine tingles.

…You wonder if there are any gods of sleep.

Probably, right?

After you wake up, you’ll look in your book and ask grandpa—

Grandpa is dead.

—when the nightmare is finally gone.

[whumblr]

Could you please write anything for Zayne sending Jay gifts at work to make him feel uncomfortable?

I got u

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

Presents

It was hard to ignore… the enormous bouquet of flowers on his desk practically lighting up the room.

Jay approached slowly, giving people the time to remove it, hoping it had just been placed on a random empty desk as he’d been out of the office all morning. But his gut and the sly glances his coworkers kept throwing at him already told him the answer.

“This isn’t for me, right?” he tried when he reached his desk and the flowers were still there. “What, is it my last day or something?”

Nobody said anything, and Terry just leaned over and flicked the card attached to the bouquet with his pen.

Resigned, Jay dropped his bag under his desk and picked the tiny card out.

Thank you for the lovely time yesterday <3

He crushed the card in a fist. He knew it. He fucking knew it was from Zayne the moment he’d walked in. Lovely time, my ass. His back still hurt like hell and he could only walk without stumbling while all drugged up on painkillers. Zayne of course would see it as a lovely date and-- His breath stilled as he realised the implications that rippled from every single flower and he felt the stares of his coworkers.

“Did… did you read the ca—” he started, but when he looked up his coworkers all had the same badly hidden smirk on their face. Yet they still had the gall to shake their head.

Jay sighed. “No, I didn’t have a date last night. This is just a prank.” But of course, no one believed him.

“It’s not a crime to have fun, Jay.”

It should be if someone’s idea of fun was stalking and torture.

-

He awkwardly bustled around the front door, juggling to hold his bag, keys, and the flowers.

“Aw, you shouldn’t have.” Zayne beamed at him from the couch. He rose and took the bouquet from Jay and placed it on the coffee table. “I’m surprised you accepted them and didn’t immediately chuck them in the bin.”

“Actually, I tried to pawn them off to Denise because I can’t bike home holding this anyway, but she scolded me, angry on behalf of my non-existent date, and so I had to take the tube home where everyone, unfortunately, was wildly considerate trying not to crush these.” The flowers combined with his sour expression, elicited glances in the tube that had varied from ‘aw, how nice’ to ‘he’s got something to apologise for at home’. Well, if he had come home without flowers, he probably would have something he was going to be sorry for… best to avoid that.

Jay rummaged through the kitchen in search of a vase. “If you didn’t think I’d accept them, why did you send them?”

“Maybe the real gift was you bumbling about…” Zayne shrugged.

“You weren’t even there to see my reaction!���

“Your reaction just now is more than enough. But if I had to guess, you went all 404, ripped up the card, and came up with some bullshit excuse to deflect.”

Jay 404’ed.

Then he turned and grumbled, “—crumpled up the card…”

Zayne nodded with a smile and threw his hands up. See. “Come on, how often do you as a guy get flowers, hm? It’s nice. And you like plants, so…” He waved to the pots of greenery dotted around the living room.

“You’ve watched too many films,” Jay said. “No one sends flowers to someone’s company.”

“Oh?”

“Personal gifts just get send to someone’s home.”

“What if we’d had a lovely first date but I didn’t know your address and wanted to thank you?” Zayne asked sweetly.

“There wouldn’t be a second date.”

“Okay, so when do people send a gift to a company?”

“When it’s from other companies? When they want to thank them for a project well done? Like, we sometimes get cake or something tasty to celebrate.”

“Huh…”

“Do not!” Jay warned, recognising the contemplation in that single syllable, and pointed a finger in Zayne’s face.

And he did not. Or so Jay thought for at least a couple weeks. And by the time he’d completely forgotten about it, he had other things on his mind. Like Emery coming out as an attempted murderer and the shitshow that followed after he told Dennis everything. Not to mention that trip to hospital.

Another thing he’d completely forgotten about in the wake of these events, was the publication of the interview he did with Emery. Luke reminded him with a slap on the shoulder – which startled the hell out of him – and congratulated him on getting back into business. Jay’s protests on it being a shit article were waved away – “That’s just your burnout talking” – and Jay hate-re-read his own piece, memories of awkward things during the interview suddenly making a lot more sense and turning dark.

The next morning, with Dennis also trying to convince him the article wasn’t even that bad and that he'd mostly salvaged everything, they were interrupted.

“Delivery for Mr Fawcett?” A young man entered the office with a large, flat cardboard box.

“Yes?” Jay said, carefully, raising a hand but just really wanting to duck behind one of the partitions. He signed for delivery and watched as the man carefully shifted the box onto his desk. Jay opened the envelope taped on top first.

To thank you and congratulate you with the publication of the excellent interview. – G. Emery.

He squinted at the name. Not only didn’t it start with Z, the thought of Emery actually sending out presents was… somehow unsettling. He hummed his doubt and passed the card to Dennis. When he opened the box, he found it chockful of little cakes.

“Suspicious…”

Dennis eagerly reached for one of the cakes, but pulled back as a thought hit him. “You think it’s poisoned?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“To finish the job?” Jay muttered back. “No, I don’t think these are from Emery. Can you imagine the guy giving out cake? This reeks of Zayne.”

He snapped a pic of the box and shot a text to Zayne, not mincing words. Are these poisoned?!

No. Was the quick response, followed by a rolling eye emoji. Jay turned the screen to Dennis. Called it.

“Fine, then, take one,” Jay grumbled and Dennis immediately chose a chocolate one. “Guess I’ll hand these out.”

-

“How?!” Jay shouted, incredulous, by way of greeting as soon as he slammed the front door behind him. Because there was no way on earth Zayne had just convinced Emery to send out cake to say sorry for attempted murder.

Zayne grinned, somewhat proud. “Managed to convince his secretary to arrange a little thank you for the journalist that made our boss look good.”

“Does she know her boss wants said journalist dead?”

“He doesn’t need to know about that. Oh.” He sat up when Jay held out a little box to him. “What’s this.”

“Poisoned cake. Saved one for you.”

“Was it good?”

“Well, I didn’t die, so yeah, it was okay. Team appreciated it more than I did.”

“Well then,” Zayne said through a mouthful of cream, closing his eyes in sugary bliss, “You’re welcome.”

-

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion @afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8 @itsmyworld98 @whumpifi @painless-and-colourful