#why did i kill him
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the first drop
juice ortiz & oc: ava gomez x oc: sebastian, 1970 words
warnings for depictions of kidnapped hostages
for day 20 of whumpril: sensory deprivation | ‘where am i?’
a/n: ive officially gone mad with power, because now im doing SOA crossover prequels with the in his shadow babes.. i can’t even explain myself. i just needed to see ava being kind to juice LMAO
tagging: @drabbles-mc @cositapreciosa @hausofmamadas
She was younger then. Young enough to act with her heart and nothing else, which could’ve ended worse than it did. Would have, even, if Sebastian wasn’t the way he was. The club came first, sure, but only after Ava.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said, hands on her hips. He was sitting on a stool by the bar, half his usual height, but eye level with her, standing in the spread of his knees. He sighed, thumbs toying with her belt loops. ‘But.’
She smiled, echoing him, ‘But.’ He could never send her away—unless she was in actual danger, then he kept her far enough that she wouldn’t know about it, until it was done already. ‘No-one will know,’ she reassured him, stroking a hand through his hair. He’d just started to grow it long, past his ears, a style that he kept right until the end. ‘They’ll call when it’s time to move them, right?’
He nodded.
‘Then I’ll be gone before anyone even knows.’
‘You got it all worked out, huh?’ A kiss, stolen from her lips, words said smirking into the skin afterwards. ‘You’re more Mayan than I am.’
But she was just visiting, taking the opportunity to kill some time with him, alone in the clubhouse. He was the one on duty, playing guard to the two men tied up in the room behind.
‘Are they important?’ she asked, inclining her head to the back.
He sniffed, shrugging. That was his tell. Not lying, but not spilling secrets either.
‘You won’t tell me?’ she assumed, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. ‘Too dangerous?’
‘Mhmm.’ Another kiss, he was hungry for it. His teeth grazed her bottom lip as he pulled back again. ‘Part of another club,’ he admitted after, sparing what little information he could. ‘Not civilians.’
Because that made all the difference to her then. That made it palatable. They weren’t innocent, but club on club warfare was hardly safe.
‘Sounds risky.’
He smiled, deflecting any worry with the white of his teeth. ‘Risk’s my middle name, chula.’
Her laugh was interrupted by the shrill of his phone, blaring from his chest pocket. He patted her thighs, signalling for her to give him space to stand, then disappeared with it out the front. Another precaution of his: he never took calls that could be incriminating in front of her. Always answered them in another room with an apologetic look, a flash of a tight-lipped smile before he went.
It didn’t bother her. She was there for him, not to eavesdrop. She was about to leave, she was, assuming the call was the signal that the rest were coming back—but then she heard it. Movement from the room Sebastian had told her to steer clear of.
It wasn’t loud, or noticeably human really. It sounded like dogs against a door, scratching and scratching, nails to the wood. There were no dogs, of course, just two men. But the repetition was the same. The desperation was the same. She had never been good at ignoring that, heart over head.
Just a minute. Just while he was on the phone.
She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge behind the bar and went, hot-footing before she could be stopped, before she had time to think better of it herself. Because she would’ve, right? She would’ve recognised the recklessness of it eventually.
The door wasn’t even locked when she got to it, just pulled shut and left like any other day. When she slipped through, she half expected to find them both pressed against the other side of it, but they weren’t, because no one had been pawing at it the way dogs do.
It was a bedroom, one of the spare dorms for members to crash in. Curtains drawn, dark, stale like it hadn’t been aired out in a while. It smelt like damp, or sweat. Some chemical she didn’t recognise.
They were tied to the bed frame opposite, sat on the floor with their arms behind their backs. Hoods over their heads, legs forced to sit crossed, knees straining against two pairs of jeans. The one on the left was slumped still, bagged-head facing down toward his lap, body leaning forward from the anchor of his tied hands.
The other was the source of the noise. He was awake, she could see the rise and fall of his chest from where she stood, elevated by his panic. The scratching had been the sound of zip-ties, rubbed up and down on the frame behind him frantically, relentlessly. Like the rounded metal would ever bore through the plastic of them.
It would only take a minute. She didn’t even have to remove his hood.
‘Careful,’ she said, quiet but enough of a surprise to make him jump still, his back hitting the end of the bed with a rattle. ‘You’ll do more damage to your wrists than the ties.’
She was in front of him now, on one knee. The second time she spoke, he had stilled, chest heaving, but panic easing. Her voice was registering with him then, proving to be less of a threat. She was a woman. It made a difference. He didn’t flinch when he felt her shoe against his own, or her fingers around the hemline of the hood.
‘Where am I?’ he asked, stuttering at first.
‘I can’t tell you that.’ She folded it up a couple inches, over his chin, until it stayed. Just high enough to leave his mouth free. ‘I brought you some water.’ Her hands were shaking slightly, knowing the time pressure, the risk, but her voice stayed steady.
He swallowed, then took in a breath big enough to make him cough, desperate for the cool, unrestricted air. ‘Jax?’ he asked afterwards, which she could only assume was the name of the man beside him.
He hadn’t moved still.
‘He must’ve had a bigger dose of whatever they gave you.’ She leant across and put her hand under the other hood to press two fingers to his throat. There was pulse, slow but regular. ‘He’s fine,’ she told him, ‘just asleep.’
The first man nodded, his cover slipping back over this lip slightly. They didn’t have time for conversation. She shouldn’t be telling him anything at all, had probably caused some domino effect she couldn’t even imagine just by opening the door and looking in.
‘Here.’ She unscrewed the water bottle, holding it up to his mouth. ‘Have some.’
His head must have been spinning, his tongue must’ve been dry enough to make every breath feel like a gag, but he refused it still. Set his lips together when she began to tip the bottle.
‘It’s water,’ she insisted, trying to hide her urgency. To him, rushing would make it sound like whatever she was offering was dangerous, a threat. ‘Look, I’ll have some.’ She pulled the bottle back, taking a large gulp from it. She did it as audibly as possible, because he couldn’t see at all, made sure to slosh the water against the rim, to swallow loud and sigh afterwards. A dumb theatre, but it was all she could think to do.
‘The fuck is this?’ he breathed, voice pinching. He was beginning to panic again, wrists tugging against the bars behind. Zip-ties scratching. ‘Where the fuck am I?’
‘Shh, shh.’ It was infectious, his panic. She shouldn’t be in here. Sebastian was only taking a call. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked, spouting the first thing that came to mind. ‘I’m Ava.’
He stopped wriggling. A tear ran down his cheek, from the eyes beneath the black cloth.
‘I’m not even supposed to be in here,’ she confessed. She definitely wasn’t supposed to have given him her name, either. The reality of that was beginning to set in. ‘So, I help you, and you help me, by forgetting I was ever here, okay?’
There was a fraction of movement, a half-committed nod. ‘Juice.’ He panted, swallowed back the dryness of his voice. ‘I’m Juice.’
‘Okay, Juice.’ She put the bottle to his mouth again, tilting it with him as he put his head back. ‘Sorry.’ Some spilled from the lip, wet down his chin, not that it mattered. It obviously didn’t matter. He was drinking like he hadn’t in days.
Had it been days? She didn’t even know how long they’d been in there.
When he pulled away, she did too, re-capping the bottle. She couldn’t leave it there, he didn’t have the hands free to use it.
‘Thank-you.’ He was breathing slower then, and not bothering to lick the water from his lips, but instead enjoying the relief of it. Just for a little longer.
She sat back onto the heels of her shoes. You’re welcome felt inappropriate. She was part of the crime now. She could have easily cut him free if she wanted to, could have let him slip out the back with Jax over his shoulder, and claimed she had nothing to do with it. But her heart only went so far. She was scared too.
‘I should—’
The door swung open behind her, wood hitting the closet beside loud enough to make them both jump. She was on her feet, water bottle scattering away from her, before he had even said anything—it could only have ever been Sebastian. There was no-one else around and conscious.
‘Sorry,’ she said, apologising already.
He was speaking over her, sharp brows tugged together, his face livid. It wasn’t anger, really, but fear, disbelief. ‘The fuck, A…?’ He stopped himself, stealing her name back defensively, as if she hadn’t already given it to Juice on her own accord. ‘No puedes estar aquí.’ He was panting, head shaking. Tongue slipping into spanish for the sake of secrecy.
‘I was just giving him water.’ She couldn’t offer anything but English herself, her brain had frozen in the panic of getting caught. ‘That’s all.’
‘Water?’ He crossed the room in a step, hand reaching for the folded hood. ‘No es una casita, nena.’ He tugged it down roughly, hiding Juice’s mouth and chin again, before turning back to her. ‘No sabes que lo peligroso es esto? Si algún chingamadre…’
She followed his meaning well enough. If it got back to the rest of the club, or worse, the Sons themselves. If anyone connected her, to this, to them. ‘He didn’t see my face,’ she rushed, head shaking.
Juice was sitting statue-like, obviously awake but doing his best to act otherwise. He could’ve said something. He could’ve used her name in his favour, and made a threat, scared Sebastian into making a deal for their release. But he said nothing. Just sat there listening, shoulders rising and falling with each cutting breath.
‘Oyó tu voz,’ Sebastian insisted, grinding it through his teeth. He took her by the arm then, pulling her with him, back across the room and through the doorway. ‘Fuck, Ava,’ he muttered, shutting the door behind him. ‘You know how much shit I’d be in if the guys knew about this?’
But it was just water. And they made a deal, right? Juice would forget she was even there.
She paled regardless. ‘You won’t tell them, will you?’
He sighed, staring at the wood for a moment before replying. ‘You need to go,’ he said, ‘they’re on their way back.’
He wasn’t looking at her, but when he did, glancing up before he could step away, he saw the doubt printed across her features. The worry that she’d gone too far this time; that she’d tripped up and he wouldn’t catch her.
‘Of course I won’t,’ he added, frowning. ‘Why would I?’
Because she came first, she always came first.
#whumpril2023#juice ortiz fanfiction#what the fuck do i even tag this honestly#LMAO#sons of anarchy fanfiction#ava ez#sebastian is soooo sexy i cant lie#why did i kill him
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it's extremely critical that you see the photo of the perp walk for luigi mangione as being propaganda. i've seen so many people wave it off and instead fawn over his looks. and trust me, i know it ended up being kind of pathetic and weird - but please don't brush it off as a "modelling opportunity" for him. it's a fucking terrifying message the police are sending.
i want to make a few comparisons here, in case you're not from the US or familiar with why the perp walk thing is something to pay attention to. just to set the groundwork for why this is a purposeful, unusual, and cruel act by the nyc police - for why this is not a common occurrence and for why that matters.
the prosecution alleges the show of force is due to the charge of "terrorism." for comparison, in june 2015, tsarnaev was found guilty for the boston marathon bombing, which killed 3 people and injured hundreds. his actions are considered to be an act of domestic terrorism. i have spent the last hour looking through google for pictures of similar to mangione's perp walk - and so far, i have found zero. i also just do not personally remember a moment like that, despite living in boston at the time.
they allege that luigi is a stone-cold killer who carried out a longterm plan, making him particularly dangerous. again for comparison: in nyc, recently cory martin was found guilty of the killing of brandy odom. the murder was planned and premeditated to steal insurance money. and yet no staged perp walk. why didn't her life matter enough for a "show of force"?
but mangione gets paraded by a veritable army of police officers as if he is a rabid animal. for a single citizen who allegedly killed one other single citizen, the "largest perp walk ever" occurs.
so what is the "strong message" that the mayor and the police were trying to send here? the mayor speaks as if mangione is already convicted of terrorism. there is a very thin number of people who feel threatened by the CEO's death. none of us felt like mangione needs to be under massive armed guard.
the message is that you shouldn't resist. they are trying to "make an example" of him - that if you behave badly and kill a single rich person, you'll be treated as if you killed hundreds of people. you will be treated worse than a man who was found guilty of terrorism. you will be considered guilty without trial. the message is that the rich are a protected class, and you cannot touch them without massive punishment. they are trying to prevent a revolution by showing dominance and force against you.
the message is that the police are a puppet of the wealthy and that the law is not equally applied across class disparity. it is "some are more equal than others." it is "one life is more precious than another."
the show of force wasn't for luigi. it was for us. it was a warning. they are trying to remind us who is really in control.
#i bring up tsarnev only bc i feel like people DID want blood. i lived in boston. people wanted to rip him apart.#i do not personally remember a moment where he was paraded around like that. and the fact we gave more dignity to him#than luigi .... is startling.#and i just realized last night i was like - i don't really remember a perp walk like that. maybe im misremembering#but i went to google and i was like. wait why the fuck was it so fucking big.#it WASNT a random act of terror. it WASNT to injure/kill as many as possible.#even if we consider it to be premeditated murder: when have we ever done this.#so brandy's life didnt deserve “a show of force?”#the mayor doesn't say ''our city wont stand for this'' when it's a planned murder for insurance money????#anyway . ur not immune etc etc etc#but i also wanted the comparisons in here in case ppl aren't from amercia etc#this ISNT normal or usual. this was overkill by like a million#on the other hand they gotta do this bc they're scared :)#i kept this bc i had ppl ask me not to delete this but i just felt like#it wasn't really poetry just talkin
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Consider: Post-canon Zuko wakes up in the body of his childhood self, the morning of That War Meeting. Would he still speak against the plans, knowing his fate? What do you think he would do differently the second time around?
"Turned away at the doors, Zuzu?"
"Shut up, Azula," her brother sulked. But sulked weirdly, after staring at her too long and too wide-eyed, not like she'd surprised him but--
But like he hadn't expected her to be there. At all.
He turned away. ...He turned back. "Hey, Lala? Do you think you could help me practice that one set?"
He didn't meet her eyes.
She narrowed hers. "Which set?"
"The one I'm bad at."
She scoffed. Pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning against. "That's all of them, Dum-Dum."
He didn't shout or stomp or yell about the nickname. His lips twitched.
"It's okay," he said. "If you're afraid you won't be a better teacher that my instructor..."
It was the most obvious manipulation ever.
Perhaps if he proved an adequate firebending student, she'd work on his courtly survival skills next. Honestly, it was good that not even Uncle Gets-Cousins-Killed had been fool enough to take Zuko into that war meeting. She could only imagine how terribly that could have gone.
"Keep up," she said, and turned her steps towards the training grounds.
He did. There, and during the katas she ran him through.
Azula kept her eyes narrowed.
"Hey," he asked, "do you know how to bend lightning yet?"
As if he could have missed it, if she'd been able to get more than sparks. "I will soon," she said.
"You will," he agreed, and flowed through his next set. The one she'd only just mastered.
Father didn't notice how weird Zuzu was being. Uncle never noticed anything. Zuko ate dinner and asked a servant for seconds and didn't stutter or flinch or lose his appetite when father asked, coolly, what he'd done with his day. Azula's shoulders tensed, because one mention of how she'd squandered her own training time teaching him--
"Azula hogged the training grounds. For hours," Zuzu scowled, exactly like a petulant thirteen year old.
Exactly like he hadn't been acting all day.
By the time Father was looking her way, Azula had her usual smirk in place. "I'm sure there would be room for both of us," she said, "you're not afraid of a little friendly fire, are you, brother?"
Zuko sulked. And ate his seconds, like he was enjoying each bite. There was something in his eyes, like a joke no one else was getting.
---
Father died that night. A heart attack. There were the faintest of burns to either side of the treacherous organ; the royal physician hypothesized that he'd grabbed at his chest, fingers burning hot in his final moments; so hot they'd only exacerbated the problem.
The royal physician would never have been brought any victims of lighting strikes. Those that occurred in the capital did not generally require a doctor in the aftermath.
Zuzu ate a hearty breakfast.
He didn't order seconds. Azula gave him points, at least, for not being tacky.
---
The sages named Iroh as regent.
They named Zuko as Fire Lord.
"No," the tiny Fire Lord in his perfectly miniaturized Fire Lord robes said, sitting at the head of his war council. "We're not doing that. And I'll be reviewing all recent battle plans, as well. What's this I hear about a division of new recruits being deployed to the front?"
He did not mention how he'd heard of the 41st Division. No one asked.
"Prince Iroh, surely--" one of the generals tried to appeal.
The young Fire Lord's regent was looking as startled as the rest of them, for a moment. Then he sipped his tea, and smiled.
"Your Fire Lord is correct, of course. A change in our leadership--a change the other nations may mistakenly view as weakness--will necessitate a change in our strategy."
"Now," said their lord, "what, exactly, is our overall objective in this war?"
War, the new Fire Lord decreed, was not an end unto itself.
---
The new Fire Lord continued to have time, to pretend to be trained by her. Azula watched him. Adjusted her footwork. Did not tolerate, and was not offered, any commentary on who was teaching who.
"What did you do with my brother?" she asked, as they flowed from one set to the next. As her hands, poised to throw fire, just so happened to be pointed his way.
He missed a step. It didn't look like an act.
"I'm, uh. Right here?"
She didn't bother to dignify that.
He didn't bother to look worried about her hands, one movement off from a true attack.
He looked around, then grabbed her sleeve, and tugged her further from any walls that may hide ears. The royal family's private training grounds were wonderfully large, and wonderfully open.
"It's me," he said. "It's still me. Just. More of me? Longer of me?"
She narrowed her eyes. A familiar expression, by this point. "Explain."
"...I found the Avatar," he said. "And this is definitely his fault, but--but I guess it started at a war meeting, when I was thirteen."
Azula listened. It was a very Dum-Dum story.
#Zuko blue spiriting off to kill a man: mom would be so proud <3#Regent Iroh is left to wonder when his nephew learned to brew a decent cup of calming tea#and also managed to develop an impressively fleshed out plan to transition the Fire Nation economy from war to industry#Hakoda looking down at an invitation to meet for formal peace negotiations: why does it say to bring my children#Kya: he's only thirteen. maybe he doesn't know which way he swings yet?#in another timeline Kya would have been killed by the same crew that was instead tasked to carry this message#sssh let's pretend the timing works#Azula: no but really give me one good reason not to tattle on your time-traveling possibly-just-a-body-stealing-spirit self to Uncle#Zuko: you could tattle on me#or#I could tattle on him#Hey Azula. Did you know Uncle left a breeding pair of dragons alive?#egg field trip egg field trip egg field trip#avatar the last airbender#atla#Zuko#Azula#fire lord Zuko#ficlet
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Scum Villain AU where Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu transmigrate by swapping lives (i.e. Shen Yuan wakes up in Shen Qingqiu's body on Qing Jing Peak, post-fever, while Shen Jiu wakes up in Shen Yuan's body in a hospital in modern China) but it doesn't quite work right.
The system glitches or something and they end up having to jointly time share their lives. Every time a certain moon phase or something (cyclical) comes around they abruptly switch back.
So they spend the entire time trying to undo everything the other one has been up to while everyone around them is just desperately attempting to figure out wtf is going on. Shen Yuan does the skinner quest and stops Luo Binghe's abuse, and Shen Jiu gets a job with a rival company and starts showing up Shen Yuan's brothers. Then they switch back and Shen Jiu is like "it's woodshed o'clock for the beast" and Shen Yuan resigns. Then they switch back again and Shen Yuan saves Liu Qingge's life and gets poisoned defending Luo Binghe, and Shen Jiu creates his own start-up and blackmails his eldest brother about the mistress he's just uncovered. Then they switch back and Shen Yuan gets his brother and his sister-in-law into couples counseling and Shen Jiu embarks on a quest to either cure himself without Liu Qingge's help or die trying.
Eventually they just start leaving bitchy messages for one another to find and doing things that won't cause lasting damage but are incredibly petty. Shen Yuan keeps trying to tell Shen Jiu to read PIDW but Shen Jiu takes one look at his merch-filled bachelor pad and immediately decides that his opinions aren't worth anything, so it takes him a while to actually do it (he is really mad about this when he finally opens the novel and it turns out to be extremely relevant information).
#svsss#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#shen jiu#scum villain#scum villain's self saving system#shen jiu: what do you MEAN there has been a chronicle of my gruesome demise this entire time?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT BEAST KILLS US???#shen yuan: oh did you read it. did you finally read the thing I've been telling you read#forever? did you? jackass#shen jiu: well fine then I can see why we should not be hitting this hornet's nest and obviously trying to kill him won't work#shen jiu: but I draw the line at seducing him that's your job just do it while I'm not there and don't tell me about any of it#shen yuan: ...we're who the what now?
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my gf was looking through wesker's wiki page (as you do) and sent me this
and i lost my shit bc it just seems like they're looking at him like girls look at a weird bug
#this just in#im not putting this on the art blog it's not worth it lmao#but oh my god . imagine.#imagine being extrajudicially executed by Evil Johnson & Johnson and this is the last thing you see#two of your shithead genius students standing all fruity over ur dying body#i accidentally twinkified birkin but im not used to working on a rlly small scale like this so forgive me#plus he's in his 20s so i couldnt give him wrankles. im so sorry bill ive made you a twink#also wesker what's with the fit#do not need to dress up for a murder#BTW IMPORTANT IS THE PHRASING OF “PARTICIPATING IN THE ASSASSINATION”#they literally did NOTHING to help im not even sure why they were there#they sure as hell didn't kill the dude#resident evil#william birkin#albert wesker#james marcus
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I find this dichotomy so funny:
Odysseus, who has been in war for years and is quick to be crafty and trick his enemies: *laments and mourns giving up mercy and being forced to become the monster*
Telemachus, the one with a reputation of being small and weak with a good heart: *kills a man from behind while they’re distracted without any hesitation or remorse*
#like#granted#Telemachus does offer to spare the next ones and that backfires on him#but I’m pretty sure he did kill that first guy#and he said he wanted to fight monsters (literal and figurative) to bring light to the world#so he kept the mercy and kindness while also doubling down on the evils#like ody#I get why you went the way you did but#your son figured out how to keep both lmao#ah well#he’s home so now Telemachus can work with Athena on that kinder world she was talking about#so good for him lol#epic the musical#epic the ithaca saga#ithaca saga#telemachus#Odysseus#the odyssey#Athena
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Feuċ, súile Dé go fuireaċ air
#bloodborne#father gascoigne#* taps sign * FATHER. remember that guys.#decadentart#caption is from notmal McLeod’s translation of psalms#specifically this is a part of psalms 33 18#interprt my message . muahahahhahahs#I think his relationship with his faith is .. complicated#in my headcanon hes actually really gentle. he is a priest after all. not reallt a violent man#but to kill beasts is sacred and holy. but its still killing#i think to an extent he can realize hes changing . mentally And physically. but he cant stop now#siiighhhh. they made a priest kill people and now he has to justify it to himself#and also he has to contend witb turning into what he can only consider a demon#do you think he wonders why hes being ‘punished’? what he did wrong in the eyes of God to deserve this?#fears for how much hes changed..?#Idk im insane and very hungry. i have like an entire essays worth of thinfs to say abt him. and i made it all up#i am very hungry rn. ggrueuaggghhhhhhhh#i could put my ramblings into a lot more sense like. not in tumblr tags#trust me. truusstt mmeee#also i know the cross isnt really used in bloodborne#however#shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up#hes not from yharnam and im not going over the slug jesus injoke rn. Okay#Also shorthand so YOU understand what this is abt :) yay
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i did not think this out much...at all, but drawing it was a lotta fun!
also i almost made lloyd veronica but i changed it to nya before i even started working on the. actual heather trio so yay!!
#ninjago fanart#ninjago#ninjago nya#ninjago lloyd#ninjago ninja#teshfarts#i should draw the nextgen as them actually....they fit way better LOL#can you tell i gave up putting any more detail for everything below their knees. there should be awesome LACES on their big long boots#but i got LAZY!!#first thing i thought while drawing kai was “this makes no sense why is his sister veronica. why would she let zane kill him” then i thought#“zane is so sad. why did i make zane JD this is so sad im sorry zane” and then i stopped thinking#btw in this. drawing theyre just dressing up. hence why cole is miserably failing to hold his laughter#heathers#sorry for the eyestraining background colour i drew this at 3 am in the dark . i did not think it through#okay teshi i think thats enough yapping
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Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)
TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.
(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)
This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.
---------------
Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.
....
The kid is a surprise though.
Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.
There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.
The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.
The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.
He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.
A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.
At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.
Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.
Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"
The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."
Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.
"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."
He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.
The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.
"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.
The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.
Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.
The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.
Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."
#I have never seen Batman (2022) so really I'm just using battinson and crew as templates for my fic. but hey what else is new lol#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc fic#dpxdc au#dp x dc au#dpxdc fanfic#i dont know shit about detective work or true crime so forgive me for any bad terminology or incorrect procedure for how these things work#just a fun rough idea for how i imagined gordon's first meeting with nightingale goes LMAO. im sticking to the idea that danny doesn't#officially join the field for a *while* due to more than just health reasons. so his first appearances are brief and usually to give B smth#danny: im only here as express delivery for vader's little brother over there. yall stay safe tho.#bruce: *kill bill sirens bass-boosted* ohmygodwhatishedoinghere#batman: how did you get here... | danny: you have so many spare grappling hooks it was pr easy to just grab one and go#also danny is whispering on purpose because he doesn't have his ghost form to fall back on as a secret identity. so he *is* actually taking#extra steps to keep his identity safe. and people usually sound different when they're whispering. he also has personal beef with#office martinez despite the fact that they've never met. Danny's HEARD of his ass. he hATES his ass.#Martinez: *to batman* freak | danny: im going to Bite Him. | batman (reluctantly): hmr. please don't. | danny: im going for his shins#Martinez and Nightingale have this whole thing going on between the two of them. danny WILL slap a sticky note on Martinez's back that says#'asshole' on it and its the one spot square on his spine that martinez can't reach.#someone: why are you beefing with like. an actual 12 year old | martinez: HE'S A LITTLE RAT. THAT'S WHY. he's here to torment me#battinson: *did you grapple the whole way here* | danny: yah. it was kinda fun. i would've gotten here faster but i kept having to stop#battinson: *hnnn* im driving you back | danny:.. are you sure? | battinson already pulling him out of the room: y e s#i've been thinking about this for literally WEEKS. what did bruce forget? good question! i'll figure that out if or when i get to this#danny has Issues behind the word freak so its like a mini beserker button for him regardless of who the word is aimed at lol. lmao#martinez calls batman a freak once while nightingale is within range and its just the doom ost as danny simply Disappears from sight#like oops. you are now. In Danger. rip couldn't be me.#blood blossom au
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i genuinely want to know what Erik’s routine was when he was in prison because they clearly managed to keep his hygiene up somehow

i’m still trying to wrap my brain around it HOW DID THEY TRIM HIS HAIR AND SHAVE HIS BEARD WITHOUT USING METAL?? REALLY SHARP PLASTIC???
it’s also sad but funny comparing him to the man who wasn’t in prison for ten years but still Erik manages to look better then him 😭 that’s what depression does to you though so 😔✊

also another thing the government hadn’t even built the plastic prison when they captured Erik so for some reason this man (who’s one of the most powerful mutants on the planet) managed to escape and then get caught SEVERAL times before they threw his ass in his cell
i thought you were better at this Erik come on man….
#the writers really did not make it seem like Erik was an actual ‘threat’ because wdym he only had the brotherhood for one year#and wdym he probably never followed through with his speech after dofp 🧍♂️#GIRL GO STEAL SOME MISSILES FROM A MILITARY BASE OR SOMETHING WHAT ARE YOU SITTING AROUND FOR??#that’s actually so sad though because why are you using him as basically the only antagonist in your films and yet we barely see what he’s#done AS magneto i’m actually crying why did they do you so bad Erik#I NEEDED TO SEE MORE OF THE YOUNG BROTHERHOOD#WE DIDNT SEE ANYTHING THEY JUST KILLED OFF EVERYONE SENT ERIK’S ASS OFF TO PRISON AND JUST LET RAVEN DO HER THING#i’m going to punch a wall or something about this istg#I NEED MORE BACKSTORY#😭😭😭#cherik#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#xmen#professor x#magneto#xmcu#xmen days of future past#wish does not shut up
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Pangi: I know that, Pili. Because you can't kill me.
Pili: Are you sure about that?
Pangi: (takes off armor and totem) Go on.
Pili: I have the opportunity to do the funniest thing right now.
Pangi: Go on.
Pili: Wait. Where's my thing?.. Okay, how would you like to die?
Pangi: (sighs) However you'd like.
Pili: Why are you so quiet? Why are you so quiet?
Pangi: Here, I'll even put my bed here, you can kill me three times now. Go on. Do it.
Pili: You look so naked right now.
Pangi: Kill me! You said you could! You said you would! Do it! You said you would! I'm literally a one shot for you right now, Pili.
Pili: That's a crazy sentence to say.
Pangi: Is it wrong?
Pili: No... You know, maybe the Derapchu effect is real-
Pangi: No, nononono, where did your big talk go, Pili? Where did your big talk go? "I could kill you", "I would kill you", "Yeah, let's kill Pangi!", huh?
Pili: (starts punching Pangi with a fist) See, I'm doing it!
Pangi: Yeah, go for it!
Pili: Why do you have no knockback?
Pangi: I don't know.
Pili: Why do you have no knockback, this is not fun, I can't push you into the water. I can't push you into the water! This is not fun!
Pangi: So when are you going to kill me, Pili? I'm waiting.
Pili: Why are you so... suicidal? You are-
Pangi: No! Nononononono, don't make this about me, don't make this about me! You were just like "Oh, let's kill Pangi, let's kill Pangi!" Nono, this isn't about me. You were just a second ago "Let's kill Pangi, let's do it, let's do it, let's kill him, let's kill him, I would kill him, what if I join the yellow team? What if I kill him?"
Pili: (still punching Pangi with a fist)
Pangi: There you go, you're almost there, you're getting there, you're getting there. Fi- si- five hearts. Come on. You got it. You were like "I'm gonna kill Pangi, I'm gonna kill Pangi."
Pangi: But you can't.
Pili: (stopped hitting him, laughs, continues to hit him)
Pangi: But you can't.
Pili: It would be so funny if I killed you, wouldn't it.
Pangi: It would be really funny. Two hearts.
Pili: (stops hitting him) But you will also get really pissed off at me... (walks off)
Pangi: (chuckles) That's what I thought.
#pangi#pili#pangili#dtowncat#pangi jan. 3rd | bruh i need to lock in#so. why are they like that. why did pangi just commit the most lifesteal thing in the world#i need to kill him#is this how lifestealers flirt
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Let the revenge games begin.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#jin guangyao#nie huaisang#He's gonna call his 5 horse friends up. They have to go on a 14 year long journey to finish the job but by god they will do it.#The sheer chaos in the Audio Drama is really fantastic. Reminds me of those traincar murder mysteries.#The lights go off and there's a scream and then BOOM dead body. Who did that!!!#Okay it was qi deviation and he did it to stop himself from killing his brother. He did it to himself.#JGY sadly has the worst alibi ever though. Both the strongest motivation and also uhhh presence at the scene.#Not to nitpick but as someone who loves murder mysteries - I do feel like even *one* other suspect would have made it stronger.#I get that he tried to make it look like an inevitable Qi Deviation and that it *is* something within the family legacy.#And a big part of NHS figuring it all out comes down to his own perceptiveness and intelligence.#If you weren't close enough to JGY and NMJ of course it looks like an accident.#Sadly 'guy who plays the 'poor little meow meow card'' is also weak to 'guy who plays the 'poor little meow meow card''.#NHS was the better subtle manipulator at the end. That's probably the strongest mystery part of MDZS. And why he's in my top 5.#My man pulled the 'kill him just as he falls from the top of his game and loses everything' gambit and I love him for it.
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Bad End: Happy Wife

Thirteen servants were dead; Two estates on fire.
I never even made it to the gates.
The smell of smoke lingered in the air. Clung to his hair and skin, even after bathing. Because no amount of scented oils, scrubbing, could erase his sin. The scent of iron and cooking flesh. Cruel scents of ancient houses ablaze. Innocent people being slaughtered. For... for the crime of trying to help me.
It was all my fault.
Last time, I had escaped alone. Or... more laughably, he had let me escape.
So he could hunt me through the forest like a brightly colored deer. Some pretty prey to stalk and torment. Letting me exhaust myself. Run and run until I could no longer, before casually strolling up to come collect me. As though letting me get it out of my system. A man, merely humoring his wife's tantrums and overly dramatic, willful ways.
I never should have accepted help. No matter have lonely I was. How desperate my despair. Because... because-!
"I'll get you new ones. Don't be upset, Love." The monster that was my husband, said idly. His voice a low rumble like thunder, his so called 'sweet' tone. "Servants that can't obey their lord, can't be trusted. Shouldn't be kept. They were scum. I'll get you better ones."
Ha ha... more like, servants that obeyed him. Feared him. Had no shred of mercy or honor, left in their bones. Gods... I... I had condemned thirteen good souls. All for trying to help me. Save me. Just for trying to get me out of this hell and away from this man.
I would never forgive this life's sperm donor, for handing me over. Because... because after a betray like that? After I had begged? Begged and screamed, rioted and tried to run? And STILL he handed me over? He was no kin of mine. I had no family.
Not in this life.
My family may not have been perfect. May have been flawed. But they would never have handed me over to a psychopath. Sold me to the highest bidder, like chattle. And... and honestly? I would take them at their worst, over these bastards at their best.
I never should have read that STUPID book. Yeah, maybe, it had nothing to do with anything. Maybe, all it would have done is left me ignorant on top of being stranded. But? I had to blame something. Or I'd go insane. So it was the fucking book's fault.
Recommend by an internet friend. Historical fiction. Lots of complex characters and some spicy yandere. How FUN. Court intrigues! Poisonings! Bastards and hidden births! Great to read... literal hell to live through. Everyone wanted everyone fucking dead, and all I wanted? Was to marry far, FAR into the countryside. Live a boring ass life.
But apparently I blinked funny. Or was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wore the wrong fucking dress (well, not dress, but you get the idea). Because next thing I knew? Yandere Sr., of Yandere and Yandere, is looking at me! And not in that "oh, what an interesting bug" sort of way! Look looking!
I didn't know shit about him! Yes, his son. But him? Nothing!
Well... aside from the fact he was a VERY convenient Widower. Like... the SECOND he got a kid out of his arranged wife. It was all very "everyone suspected but no one could prove shit" Sort of thing.
And? Said son? Becomes a major antagonist in the book. Until he "embarrasses" his Father by going too far. Implied gruesome end to follow. Plot moves on. Which? Is all well and good FOR THEM. But what about me?! I had nothing to go on! Aside from "Aaah ha ha ha! Run." Which? Didn't fucking help, in the end! Still... s-still ended up married.
Though, my new "son" ended up dead, in relatively short order. Apparently wasn't too pleased to have a step-mom. Tried to do something about it. Disappeared between one day and the next. And now no one is allowed to so much as talk about him. But hey! It's apparently fine! Because at some point? We're gonna make a better one!
"Your thoughts are far away, Love. Should I help you concentrate?" Husband muses, from the edge of the bed. I jerk back as I jolt violently to the present, focusing on the threat. He looks pleased. "Better~, this wife should focus only on her Lord. And yet... once again she's wandered. Tried to run. This lord wonders what he should do, hmm?"
Scrunched up in a ball on the bed, I hoped the answer was fucking "nothing". Or maybe, perhaps, "leave". Inching backwards, like the hunted animal I felt like, I wasn't fast enough to avoid the hand that shot out. Capturing my ankle in shackle strong grip.
It wasn't crushing. Left no bruises. Yet the touch felt scalding, as his hand imprisoned yet cradled my ankle. Dragged my leg free of my curled up little ball of self. I froze, as I felt his other hand gentle running the tips of his fingers up and down my shin. Up and down, up and down. As though just feeling my skin.
"Should he make sure his wife can not run?" This grip tightened, nearly bruising. His other gripping farther up my leg. As though casually preparing to snap bones. "Or perhaps, he should chain you away? Hmm? This Lords wife is a troublesome girl. Causing trouble as she does... ah~, what to do with her..."
Terrified, sat froze. Mind numb. Please. Gods. Please, please, please! D-Don't. I was shaking. Could feel tears starting to build. Watched, helplessly, as he examined me. Something pleased, satisfied even, creeped into his expression. And without breaking eye contact, he lifted my leg towards his face, to gently kiss the skin right above my ankle bone. It could have been tender... if it didn't feel like a threat.
"This wife is so very lucky, that this Lord loves her so. That he would never."
It was almost mocking, in how sweet the words curled. As though suggesting that because this one thing was too far, he was a good man. As though suggesting that he would do far worse to others, in my place. But don't worry. You won't be hurt. See how benevolent he is?
"But come, let us not discuss your punishments tonight, hmm?"
Like a predator, stalking his prey, he crawled up onto the bed. Closer and closer. There was no where to run. Was this it? W-was this the day he... he-? Looming, on his knees, above my curled up ball of fear, he effortlessly worked his arm in and around my waist. Dragging me closer. All but into his lap.
"You are tired. Upset. Have made such messes for this husband to clean." He murmured, face pressed close. Breathe ghosting against my neck, my ear. All I could smell was rich soaps and smoke. "We can deal with this tomorrow. For now, it's time for bed. So go ahead, rest sweetly in my arms, Love.
"It's where you belong."
#threepandas#yandere#yandere x reader#yanblr#reader insert#yanderecore#tw death#because our yandere basicly burned a country down to marry is darling#because he is a violent fucking sadist when he chooses to be#and yeah he totally merc'd his own kid#out with the old in with the new#wants a NEW and BETTER heir from his Darling#dont worry#you love him#you just dont realize that yet#yes he WILL keep killing people until he gets his way#why do you ask#married reader#trapped reader#she should have run#she DID run#but like... she should have run BETTER#and yes the name IS meant to be ironic#bad end happy wife#bad end happy wife au#tw sa implied#but no he wont touch his Darling#until the Stockholm Syndrome really kicks in#because Consent is important! :)#did I mention crazy? because he is deeply insane wtf dude
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Hello! Can do a chapter fic off this fic prompt Danny phantom x dc: https://www.tumblr.com/corkinavoid/767516270934556672/dpxdc-legal-power?source=share
This isn’t a one-to-one recreation of that dialogue but it’s based on that as a framework/premise
Batman dropped down into the room behind a pair of figures—a teenage boy and a slumped adult—letting his landing create an audible thump to alert them of his presence.
If the teen noticed, he didn’t react. Even as Bruce approached, he continued to stare impassively at the wheezing figure on the ground, an old wooden bat with flaking green paint on its side loosely held in his right hand. Bruce had already suspected who the figure would be since he arrived, but seeing the Joker so broken was still bizarre. No laughing, no schemes. He didn’t even seem to be attempting to escape his binds, just… lying there, almost as if pinned in place.
Bruce paused a step behind the teen. “I don’t know what the Joker did to you, but this isn’t the right way to go about this.”
The teen scoffed, and Bruce felt a painful lurch in his chest as he was reminded oh so strongly of his son Jason. “And what, let him go kill more people?”
“I know he deserves to face justice, but not like this. Everyone deserves a right to fair trial. No one person should be judge, jury, and executioner.”
The teen turned to look at him with glowing green eyes, and Batman felt himself freeze. He had faced gods before, yet even using that as a comparison felt like an understatement. The boy’s eyes belonged to someone far older than his teenage form implied, and they radiated power. Inevitability.
When the teen—no, the entity—spoke again, his words carried an unearthly echo. “Perhaps, but I’m not acting for just myself.” He paused, glanced down at the Joker, then asked almost conversationally, “Do you know how many people he’s killed?”
Another pause, but before Bruce could even try to answer, the entity continued, “Eight hundred and fifty-six. He’s ended the lives of eight hundred and fifty-six human souls. I can tell you about every single one, if you want. About who they were, what their dreams were before he killed them. About the pain they felt at his hands.”
He punctuated the word ‘pain’ by raising up the wooden bat in his hands and ramming its end down onto the Joker’s arm. He let out a wheeze, muffled by the gag in his mouth.
“I have a duty to my people. I am the King of the In-Between and of all the souls that pass through it—even ones whose stays were as brief as his. I am the rightful arbiter of his fate. And with that power, I sentence him to death.”
He raised the bat again, adjusting his grip so he’d hit with the side rather than the end this time, then paused and let out a chuckle. “Of course, just because it’s based on some justice doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit of fun with it too.” He swung the bat down, slamming it into the Joker’s side, then hooked it under the clown’s torso and flicked him up through the air to slam into the wall. “We all really hate this guy.”
With the entity’s attention fully turned away from him as he sauntered towards the Joker’s slumped figure, Bruce could finally unfreeze himself.
Even if the Ghost King did have the right to pass judgement on Joker, Bruce still couldn’t let torture go on like this. He wouldn’t win a direct fight, but he could hopefully at least grab the Joker and bring him over to the police. Carefully, he reached for some of the smoke bombs and batarangs on his belt and readied his grapple. He’d have to do this very, very fast.
But before he could move, another figure entered the scene. Red Hood, emerging from the shadows on the far side of the room, an unexpected bit of a pep to his step.
“Nice to see someone else who gets that that bastard needs to die. But if I may make a suggestion, how ‘bout you use a crowbar instead of that old bat? It’d be a bit more… fitting.”
#asks#prompt fill#btw about that kill count number - the dc wiki page on “Joker’s body count” said two numbers 671+ and 185+ (for different continuities?)#so i just added those two together to get a plausible-ish –feeling exact value for “671+”#danny fenton kills the joker#ghost king danny fenton#also i know Bruce is sorta the antagonist here but I’m trying my best to present him fairly#a vigilante having a code against killing people is a good thing! right to fair trial is important!#yeah the Joker probably should be executed but I don’t think Bruce is a bad person for not doing it himself#the legal system exists!! why are you asking the extrajudicial vigilante who specifically has a no-kill rule to do it??#i feel like Joker getting sentenced to death would be the “logical” end to the situation; the Joker is gone and Batman’s code is intact#(you know. were it “real life” and not a comic with the whole “we’re not gonna kill off someone that iconic!” thing)#and also him planning to step in against Danny isn’t about “the joker has to live” it’s about “torture is wrong”#he’s (cautiously) believing of the “legal right” part so if they showed the legal sentence and executed him “cleanly” he’d be fine#(obviously he supports reforming criminals but in the Joker’s case I think he’d accept a fair trial saying “death” as okay)#or in other words Batman isn’t pro-life; he’s pro-choice(-by-the-courts) (/hj)#dp x dc#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp#danny phantom x dc#danny phantom x dc crossover#dpxdc the joker#dpxdc bruce wayne#dpxdc jason todd#also btw i’m sorry danny’s words are so pretentious/OOC feeling (well. at least to me they are)#it feels awkward to me too but it felt kinda necessary to match the vibe of the original thing#maybe he’s sorta sharing his thoughts with some judicial-y ghosts or etc who are influencing it#i did specifically want to imply the victims are affecting him at least a little (echoey voice + “*we* hate him”)#or maybe he’s just been King for a long while and has had time to get a bit more “kingly”
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so when's the wxs phantom of the opera set
#project sekai#pjsk#prsk#emu otori#tsukasa tenma#nene kusanagi#rui kamishiro#ruis hair continues to piss me off forever. and ever#Yes i stole their phantom outfits from the revue gacha game. Whos gonna stop me. I WAS SO MAD THAT PHANTOM NANA IS AN OBSOLETE CARD OK#the discerning revsta + pjsekai fan can see i gave emu nanas outfit and rui michirus. Becaude i am crazy. Edel de/light was crazy.#polysho#proseka#why are there so many fuckfign tags. Why so tagging. -the tumbler#Ok sorry#Watch me go insane. Phantom is such a fucking rui role inknow ok i know i know. thats why i gave it to him. but also. I have emu disease#INSTEAD OF THE BRAINTHEREIS EMUUUUUU!!!!!!#Trying to figure out if i should render these and how sucked. cause the first one was drawn on paper and scanned . i shoildve just left itA#Its ifne idekc. I did another emu phantom drawing but i dont feel like posting it alone so ill have to draw more of this. bye#i dont even like the phantom. and i want to kill andrew llyoyid webber with a hammer. And so should you
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The Palladium Heist
#odysseus#tagamemnon#diomedes#odydio#the palladium heist#real shit I used that story recently for my comparitive mythology class#and they were like “why do you think Odysseus did what he did” and I just sat there like 🧍♂️#my wife and i have a bit going where odysseus' natural conclusion to maybe liking men was to just kill him#my wife says it was merely a flirting tactic
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