#silence au

[icarusredwings]

Silence

In an alternate universe.. Where Wade let Francis live, hoping it'll make him a better person. Hoping.. that by listening to Colossus.. just this one-time ...life wouldn't screw him over...

Chapter 1.

Francis Forever

Tw: Blood, intense codependency, feral behavior, discrimination, PTSD attacks, sleep issues, crying, derealization.

A 900 follower special.

Something wasn't right.

He picked this up about a week ago. The never leaving feeling that something was wrong.

Sure, Wade left for work trips. It wasn't uncommon. But it's been 8 days. Not a call. Not a voicemail, not a text saying he's okay. He hasn't even shared a stupid tiktok to him since.

Al told him not to worry so much, That Wade can take care of himself. That he has been since he moved in with her. “It's not like he can die.” She had said but something deep within Logan's chest felt flipped, uneasy and heavy. He knew she was just trying to calm him down but with each day that passed he became more restless.

He's tried calling. He's texted. He's messaged him on every social media account he knew of, even emailing him. Nothing. None at all.

It happened about 6 Days ago. When he sat up from their bed in the middle of the night, alone, with a devastating feeling in his gut. Like someone had just told him that all of the love he felt was in danger.

The last time he remembered feeling this way was when he thought his brother had killed his wife.

He's been trying to lay his head back down to sleep but instead he was pacing around the apartment at 3 am like a caged animal, trained to stay within these four walls, mentally somewhere far away.

“Go Take a walk. Because if not, you’re gonna burn a hole in our floor.” She told the man.

The dirty glare (at least, that's what she assumed) made her roll her eyes.

“I'm serious, It's not good for you to be cooped up like this. You've checked the window 17 times within the last hour, Logan.” The way she said his name was soft, the affection of a wise old woman.

“Yeah, sure, like you're going to get your deposit back anyway.” He growls back, as if only hearing the first part. It wasn't like Logan to be rude to Althea. Even when pissed off, so this was odd. She now understands the severity of the situation.

“Look, I'm sure everything is fine and he just forgot to charge his phone. You know how dumb that little psychopath can be. Once he was gone for 3 months and came back just fine.” She mutters to him.

Beginning to feel a snarl raise up in his throat, Logan grunts, shaking his head. He wanted to tell her to shut up. That she didn't understand because she didn't have a husband. That she didn't have anyone that loved her the way he loved Wade and he hasn't felt this worried over someone in decades. But he swallowed that. His mother raised him better… if he didn't have anything kind to say.. not to say it.

“...”

“And take the mutt with you, she's been dying to go to the park.”

About to decline, the dog brought the leash to him, wagging her tail hard from the sheer word “park” alone.

“Fine!....come on mary..”

Even walking the dog down the street, his pace was too quick, her little legs struggling to keep up as he growled, uneasy. He didn't know what to do without him talking to him. Was it always this noisey in the city? Usually Wade would yell over the noise, make jokes about people passing by and holding his hand to keep him grounded. So now what?

He didn't know where to put his hands.

Everyone always says how good he was getting but what did any of that matter if the man who made him better wasn't here to see any of his progress!?

He was trying to become the best version of himself, despite Wade sweetly telling him each night how he was the BEST wolverine because he was HIS wolvie, but he was only the best when with him!! How did he not get that!?

It didn't matter now. None of it did.

Grunting loudly, Logan stops his frustrated fast walk only when he heard Puppins whining and panting, trying hard to keep up. “Sorry..” he tells the dog, picking her up instead, in which she wags her tail, trying to put her tongue in his mouth as a thank you.

“Just because your papa gets to do that doesn't mean you can.” He tells the dog, Who pouts. Why not? She was a deadpool. She knew it. And if her papa got too, why not her?

Logan walks. He walks. And walks. And walks. Until finally something catches his eye. How did he end up here? When were the birds chirping? Since when did the sunlight show through the gaps of tree lines that were lined up on the sidewalk? Oh shit..

It was morning.

‘It's been at least 3 hours’ he thinks, but still he was upset, at least still in New York but found himself somewhere he didn't remember. By the water. Why would he go there? God- How long did he walk? Now he has to walk all the way home. And poor puppins? She didn't even want to come on this stupid trip and- he catches a scent.

“Wade?”

Sniffing more, the smell was off, as if he put on sea salt and air pollution perfume but his excitement clouded his judgment. “Wade!”

Shoving Mary into his flannel, he runs to the end of the street, stopping with a skirt of his boots, nose to the air and has the stance of a hound dog standing on its hind legs to smell for a coon in a tree. The moment he got another whiff, he darted in the other direction- into traffic.

Jumping over (and damaging) the hood, the driver shouted, waving a fist at him. “You damn mutie!! Look what you did to my car!!”

Puppins growled from hearing the word, letting out a few angry yips as Logan kept going, zig zagging through the lanes until he was on the sidewalk again, managing by the skin of his teeth.

Panting, he took deep breaths, huffing as his nose twitched. “Fuck! Where did- There.” He says to himself, the hairs on the back of his neck and arms raising as he catches just a sniff over the hot dog stand next to him.

His eyes widen, a toothy grin coming over him as he sees a lady in red with heavy make up. Now- Don't get him wrong, he didn't mind, but he was curious as to why Wade wouldn't answer him if he's- er- she's right there. “Wade!” He calls, but she still doesn't look.

Jogging up to her, the smell got thicker, but something still wasn't right. He could smell the chemicals of the concealer, the wig glue, the cancer, but this perfume wasn't Wade's. And also… When did Wade menstruate?

“Wade?” Logan borderline whimpered, poking his face in front of her, sniffing, only for her to scream and slap him with her purse. Instinctively, he jolts back, tilting his head, now with very sad eyes.

That wasn't Wade… He should have known better.. What's wrong with him? Since when could he not do something as simple as track down someone he's lived with for an entire two years already?

For a moment it hits him. Tears welling up in his eyes, his fists unclenching, ducking his head… he couldn't smell him.. and he didn't recognize this street. He didn't know where home was. And Wade wasn't here to guide him back…

He missed the way he would have grabbed Him by now, told him not to get lost, and joked that they should get him a collar so people don’t think he's a feral stray.

He missed his stupid jokes.

He missed his ever changing textured hands.

He missed his wretched smell of gun smoke, pizza bagels and inner abscesses.

He missed his annoying laugh.

He missed him more than anything.

There was nobody better to help him in this situation, where his vision became blurry, he was shaking, and his claws itched, wanting to pop.

Dipping into an alley, he put his back against the wall, sinking down as he held Mary close, trying to remember the breathing exercises that Wade had taught him, trying to calm himself as he let Puppins lick the salty tears that came from his panicked eyes.

It took his whole life to find out.. but he needed Wade. He needed him. That little katana waving bastard with the crooked smile and such big brown eyes from years ago. The one he would defend from Vic. He needed him. Those frustrating quips didn't seem so bad anymore.

“B-but you knew from the start it was always going to be us, didn't ya? You fucking asshole…” He whispered, Burying his face into his arms, claws unsheathed and bleeding.

Wade knew Logan would need him. Wade knew it from the start. It's why he was so nice to him. That's why he brought him home. It's why he gave Logan a home. A family. And the luxurious comfort of knowing the fridge would never be empty, and he always would have a warm bed to sleep in.

So how could he leave him alone… again..

[cat-angel-936]

Since I didn't get to finish what I was prepared for this Halloween, (I decided that I will upload it all at once next year) I decided to bring you this little "animation" of silent Chris without finishing it yet, but which I think fits with this day, also to tell a little of his story that occurred to me over the days.

Jaja parece un gif

This may change but it was what occurred to me, they were supposedly investigating a new species of worm/parasite and at one point it bites Chris and what happens in the animatic happens

[aquaticpal]

Well, @airplanned ya got me again. From part 16 of Silence, once again I read the word "moonlight" and lost my mind:

Praise Hylia, she said.

[airplanned]

Silence. 24

Table of Contents....Chapter 1...Chapter 23

.

Zelda didn't bother to be quiet as she shoved open the sanctuary door.  She let it slam closed behind her, the bang echoing through the room.  It was loud enough that Link bolted upright, his head popping up over the back of the pew.  He blinked at her, then jumped to his feet.

Halfway down the aisle he paused, probably catching sight of the sword on her back.  "You--"

"Yes."  She just grabbed his hand as she stomped past, pulling him with her towards the Goddess statue.  "I didn't realize what it was, and I took it.  For that I apologize."

To relieve her burning face, she busied herself arranging the candles around the Goddess statue's feet and lighting the wick of a long handled taper used by the acolytes.

When he spoke again, there was a hesitancy in his voice.  "I...I'm sorry I didn't tell you."  He had grabbed his own taper to help her.

She paused only for a moment.  "It's alright."  In a way, she was glad he hadn't.  She would have been upset.

Another candle.  Another.  All her fear bunched back into a ball in her throat.  "And it's not as if I was forthcoming myself.  I didn't tell you I'm the failed princess."

He froze beside her, and that was it.  She had ruined it.  He would never look at her the same way again.  All her failures would make sense.  Her reasons for being here.  Her reasons for being so hard on herself.  But it would be unfair to keep the truth from him.  Maybe he still held onto enough of his vows to be forgiving and charitable.  He still loves you.  Oh, she hoped he would.  She refused to look at him and kept lighting candles, carrying on, carrying on.

"Finally.  Now I know your name."

She nearly dropped her taper as she whipped around to gape at him.  

There was a look on his face, assessing, but not judging as he stood, leaning on his taper in the warm glow they had created on the first few steps leading to the Goddess' feet.

She swallowed hard, not daring to believe it.

Then he stepped forward, and let his hand brush hers before signing, I’m sorry.

She was not ready for his pity.  Instead, she dropped her eyes, then pulled the scabbard from her back, shaking her hair free and pressing it into his hands.

He held it uncertainly for a moment.

"It doesn't usually let other people touch it.  I thought it was trying to push people away.  It shocked both my parents and my superior officer and--well, a bunch of guys in the barracks who were fooling around.  And there was the voice saying I was worthless, that I'd let everyone I loved die, and I deserved punishment. I thought the thing to do was isolate myself.  That my destiny was to be alone.  But you never saw me as a failure, and you were welcoming and kind and warm and we were friends.  And then when you touched it last week, I thought...I thought maybe it was time to let people in.  Maybe I was going about it the wrong way."

The sword held between them, they looked up at each other.  Uncertain.  Hesitant.

Zelda licked her lips.  "I need your help."

"Okay," he said.  No hesitation.  No asking what kind of help.

She put out the light on her taper and set it down as she sunk to her knees.  Link followed her down.  "I spoke to the sword.  She's the one who's been telling you all the percentages."

He startled.  "The sword talks?!"

That got her lips to twitch towards a smile.  "Evidently."

He frowned down at it, then jerked his head back up to her.  "It sounds just like you."

She shrugged.  "She does the percentages, I do the, um, the--"

"Self-flagellation?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Yes, fine.  But you mentioned a third voice.  One that encourages you."

He thought for a moment.  "That's not you?  Are you sure?"

"The sword says it's Hylia."

He stared at her.  Then his eyes drifted up to the statue's face, lost in the darkness. At length, he said, "Oh.  Okay."

"Okay?!  A goddess is speaking to you and your response is okay?"

He threw up his arms.  Clearly he had no idea what was happening either.  She needed to get them back on track.  

"Hylia speaks to you.  I would very much like it if she spoke to me.  So I need you to..."  She waved her hands as if searching for a way to explain through gestures.  "Walk me through what you're doing.  Or reach out and ask her to talk to me too.  I'm honestly not sure."

He frowned.  "I don't know.  I thought you were all the same until a minute ago."  But he did take a moment to think on it.  "Okay.  Um.  It's kind of sporadic.  And it's...it's quiet.  Because...I don't know it's hard to hear."

She nodded.  "So listen really hard."

"No no.  It's...difficult to hear.  Emotionally.  Like, it usually feels like a stray thought that I just push away, because I try really hard not to listen to anything you shout at me--sorry."

"No, that's...that's understandable."  Her face felt very warm.

"I try to push what you say away, and those little nice things, the ones that say I'm doing things right, those are even easier to shove off, because they're hard to believe.  And they're...light.  Fleeting.  It takes a lot of work to take in what it's saying.  And...I don't know."

She chewed her bottom lip.  "But...you were listening.  The past few weeks."

"Yeah.  Yeah, I guess I was.  Because they were saying what I felt when I was with you.  I guess you just have to be open to it?"  He cringed, knowing how ridiculous that sounded.

Be open to it.

Zelda was not very good at being open to encouragement.

She took a deep breath.

Quietly, he added, "I hear it the most when I'm listening to the math."

The math.   Goddess how embarrassing.

"Alright.  Okay.  Then that's a place to start."

She folded her hands beneath her breast, took several deep breaths to push down the frantic jitter in her blood, and closed her eyes.  She thought of the Perrin sequence, of triangles populating around each other into a spiral, growing larger, bolder with each new iteration.  She thought of her sense stretching out, starting small in her body, the pushing out to where Link's shoulders were easing, out to the sleeping monks in the abbey, out towards Castletown and the villages and the mountains and the sea.  And was it really any wonder she projected her prayers when she had meditations like this?  Triangles, triangles, spiraling around her until the numbers grew too large for her to keep up with and she felt as if she'd covered all of the world, as if she held it all in her mind.  So she held it, held it, the moment full and waiting and quiet quiet quiet.

Listen.

With a stab of fear, her eyes snapped open, and she spun on Link.  "How do I know it's her, and I'm not simply listening to my own thoughts?"

He tilted his head, unsurprised at the interruption.  "Does it matter?"

"What?"

He shrugged.  "I mean...Maybe she's talking to you and maybe she's putting thoughts in your head and maybe she's inspiring you to think kind things.  Those are all gentleness and love, and all gentleness and love come from her.  If it's pointing you in the right direction, what does it matter?"

She shifted as her skin prickled in discomfort.  That...made sense logically.  And yet...And yet it did matter.  It mattered so much.  She wanted the Goddess to speak to her.  Directly.  To wipe away all doubt.

But it was just her own voice, and she could never stop doubting herself.

She blinked as Link slipped his hand into hers. When she looked up at him in surprise, the smile he gave her was simple.  Loving.  Trusting.

He believes in you.

She swallowed hard.  Link squeezed her hand.  Then with trepidation tight in her chest, she turned back to the statue and closed her eyes.

Is that really what I need to do?  Believe in myself and...open my heart?

What do you think you should do?

She nearly rolled her eyes.  She was definitely talking to herself.  With a deep breath, she pressed on.

I have no idea.

You wanted to figure it out all on your own.

Well, it would seem at this point that that was not the correct path.

You put too much weight on simplicity and not enough on charity.

What?  No.  I broke the vow of simplicity and was doing too much charity.

You broke your vow of charity first.  You broke it immediately, and have repeatedly broken it every day since.

Zelda's eyes snapped open.  That sounded exactly the way she berated herself.  And yet it was different.  Was she just saying different things because she was hoping to be chastised from a different angle?

Uncharitable.  To...myself?

You were cruel and punishing and unforgiving.  You knew that your actions were wrong.  You would never think of your fellow acolytes in such terms.  And yet you unendingly berated my favorite daughter.

How ridiculous.  She was hardly Hylia's favorite daughter.  What was she even saying?

You are brilliant and loving and beautiful and loyal. If you cannot accept kindness from yourself, how will you accept it from Hylia?

Her arms and chest trembled as if she were about to cry.

No, this was so stupid.  As if believing nice things about herself and thinking she could do it would be enough to unlock her powers.

Or was she turning away?  Turning away yet again. How could she know?!

A leap of faith.

A leap of faith.  It did feel as if she were stepping off a cliff and into a void with nothing to catch her.  Approving of herself felt like a trick.  After all the disapproval and all the punishments and all the belittling and all the isolation stamped over and over and over on her mind until she took them into herself, how was she supposed to step out from under that?

She shook her head, and the tears that had welled up slipped loose.  It's so hard to trust that voice.

Which voice?  Hylia?  Or yourself?

"Both," she said.

Both.

Tingles raced over her skin, prickling up her spine as the reality of it settled into place.  "Maybe they are the same."

Link tilted his head when she turned to him.  Her palm was warm and sweaty against his, but he didn't break the hold to ask a one-handed, Did you hear anything?

She lifted her free hand to answer, but stopped herself.

She didn't need to gesture.

And the back of her hand was glowing warm and soft as the candlelight.  

She spread it out before her, gazing at the small flicker of a Triforce that maybe one day she could coax into a beam of light.  A blinding beam.  But for now it flickered with fragile hope.

She wiped her cheek with their joined hands, unwilling to look away from the glow even for a moment, unwilling to let go of his hand as if their connection were somehow powering it.  “I think Hylia might believe in me.”

“Do you believe in you?”

She wasn’t sure, and she looked over at him and the encouraging look on his face.  She squeezed his fingers.  “I think, maybe, I could learn.”

.

The end.

Thanks everyone!

[soupdwelling]

ok au where after becoming archivist jon starts getting into the habit of making vent tiktoks in his car after work because tim showed him how and at first he was like “this is stupid” but then it genuinely started helping him decompress so he just kept doing it in secret. and he eventually he gains a minor following who are becoming increasingly concerned because it goes from “the most INSUFFERABLE statement giver came in today” to “i got fucking KIDNAPPED AGAIN!!!”

[bigfatbreak]

pressing the envelope.

[yuukirita]

Today B-127 has constructed a noise box. 

His task was to make something useful 

Suffice to say, he failed. 

Supplementary note: He spends too much time with Soundwave.

[shepscapades]

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [PART 7] [Don’t Let it Reach the Heart]

Nobody Anymore Nobody Anymore

[This comic is part of my dbhc au, following the chaos and panic that ensues after Doc and Xisuma try to get Etho back online at the start of s9 after a very rough s8 finale that leaves him a little. broken. It's set to the vibes of Joywave's Destruction. This part concludes this comic, but this moment doesn't end here: Don't Let it Reach the Heart will be the title of the fic that will follow the end of Destruction!]

[phantomraekens]

as requested - why the fbi told neil to stop tweeting (prev post) (first)

[xiadong1024]

ERRORS

[icarusredwings]

Silence

He was SO wrong.

Chapter 2.

Goodbye, my Canadian Swetheart.

Cw: Kidnapping, Straight up torture, Various cruel and unusual punishments, Descriptions of pain and wounds, Angst, Loss of healing factor, loss of voice, guilt, insecurity, crying, hostage situation.

Everything hurts.

Except.. It was a different type of pain. The kind he wasn't used to. Yeah, he's been used to the hilt and left out to dry in his own puddle of his blood before, but he laughed and spit out his own tooth that day. His large intestines hanging out of his body, soaking in the dirty rain like a fucked up steak marinade only to fillet the asshole who dared touch him without a safe word.

But not today. He wasn't healing today... or.. yesterday? What day was it? How long has he been here? Either way, his cells were on strike, holding up microscopic signs with ‘Hey ho we won't go!’ written on them.

A small snort came from his nose, the tiniest smile at the thought. You could torture him yeah but the only thing you're going to do is make him more crazy. Even he knew that. Hell! Everyone knew that!

So what was he trying to accomplish? I mean really, how much more fucked up could he make him?

He couldn't see much. The light above him is off the majority of the time, leaving him in complete darkness but never silence, the screams coming through the wall acting as white noise by now. But at the moment? It was on, swinging from the upstairs movement.

While he wasn't 100% sure? He thought the musty, mildew covered walls and how cold his toes were meant he was in a basement. How many flight's down? A million for all he knew. He had no clue how he even got here.

So now, as he sits, strapped and chained to the chair (that was bolted to the floor by the way) he is staring at the blank wall, studying each crack, wondering where each one came from.

They reminded him of the veins that came out of Logan's arms when he was really pissed off and red with anger. He found himself thinking about Logan a lot down here, his body heavy and his neck throbbing from the collars around it. The fucks had double collared him, keeping him tame and well behaved.

So what else was he supposed to do? Call out in hopes someone would slip from their training and come give him an opportunity to escape? But the top collar was too tight, two holes burned in the side of his neck from all the shocking with each noise he made louder than a whisper. Even a cough set it off.

He wondered, if he could speak now, would Logan come to him? Would he even hear him? Would he spare some time if he called? To come rescue his pathetic ass yet again?

Wade knew Logan loved him deep down, but he wondered if Logan even knew he was missing by now.. did he even care? Why SHOULD he care honestly? He was smart enough to know that Mr. Howlett was probably on the couch right now, unexpectedly waiting for him to come home…

And Honestly? He didn't blame him not one bit if he became buried deep in his memory, something that won't spark his attention until it's far too late.

He wondered- Would anyone come to his funeral? Would they even be able to find the body? Would Logan tell their friends about him? All the sweet gentle touches they shared? Each little date and stupid joke? Would he tell them the truth? Or would he lie and tell them how he saw him instead of how Wade saw himself..

He wondered if he could see the burning hole inside of him, that determination to keep himself from falling apart, how hard he was trying to be the best Deadpool for him.

Trying to prove to the world that he wasn't someone to wave a stick at, that he was a top notch hero just like the rest of them.. Could Logan see that?

Sure, the merc work paid well but what it did to his heart wasn't pretty. His morals have always been flexible. Too flexible.

Wade wanted to be a good person. It's why he listened to the stupid X-men to begin with. Stupid fucking virgin Colossus. Why did he have to go and make him feel like he was worth something? Like that 4 to 5 moments bullshit would actually work out in his favor?

He raised his hopes for nothing. Made him think that he too could be a hero that crowds cheered for when they saw him and kids would point him out and go “GASP!! Mommy it's Deadpool!” and he'd go “Damn right kid! Stay in school or.. whatever.”

Before kicking some major ass in front of them, to further prove just how cool he truly was. This was the only idea that was keeping him together at the seams.

To impress The Wolverine. HIS wolverine. To show him that he deserved to be on the team. One that's well respected and the government has no choice but to call HIM for help. Just a guy with regenerative cancer who really liked guns.

Well… now the ladder was only true but still. His point stood. Unlike him, whose legs were dull and numb from sitting so long in this piss scented concrete singular cell.

Tears came to his eyes as a terrible thought crossed his mind. How would he see him as a good hero if he would never see him again?

Now, he sits here, wondering about him.

He wished he could tell him what to do. Logan was good at this kind of thing. He was good at keeping calm and telling him what to do when he felt like this, when his body betrayed him with such unbearable pain. He would hold him and kiss him, tell him everything would be alright and somehow it always was.

Logan always made everything alright.

Logan has worked so hard to teach him how much he loved him, show him how to water it until it grew. And with just a bit of water and TLC, His rosey heart turned into something incredibly beautiful that he could hold in the palm of his big calloused hands once it blossomed.

Even with all its thorns, there was nobody better than him that he wanted to spend his (apparently) no longer eternal life with. Tears sting his dehydrated dry eyes as they drip down his cheeks, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, wishing this was all just a dream. But still he had the same request..

If only he could see Logan’s face again before he died… he'd be happy..

The heavy metal door opens, Sending just enough excitement through his body to sit his head up, looking at the man who was slowly walking towards him. Was he wrong?! Did he doubt him too much? Has he come to rescue him princess style and blow this place to smithereens while walking away in slow motion?

All he knew? There was only one other man that he wanted to see right now..

‘..Logan?’

[cat-angel-936]

In the end I decided to finish this drawing, at first I didn't want to finish it since it was just a doodle of a very short dream I had but in the end I thought the idea of ​​Chris answering questions was funny 🤭 so ask whatever you like, always with respect obviously and maybe they are answers with drawings that fast, so I practice a little hehe

I think I'll nickname this Chris "silence" or "silent Chris", because in my dream he didn't speak, or at least he didn't want to speak to me 🤷‍♀️

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[yingyoyingsh]

Origins poolverine save me

[demaparbat-hp]

I always think about Zuko having days when his head is just so unkind to him that he can’t get up. And all you can do is love him and be with him until it passes.

Zuko curled in bed and Katara holding him, kissing his shoulder. Or Katara sitting next to him and bending down to kiss him.

Thank you for these, they’ve been such a little flame of love and hope right now

Please don't go.

[izuizzy]

“First Word” 💙💙

made a comic to express the relief and joy sonic felt when talia finally spoke for the first time once she became more comfortable. [read from left to right]