#wily is fucking dead

[onejelly]

Something I did like 4 months ago

[absolutely-normal-about-x]

I feel like it’s just me thing, I want to make this headcanon about the Maverick virus for a bit.

ALSO CW BELLOW A TALK ABOUT RABIES STROLL AWAY IF UR NOT INTO THIS.

I kinda notice that the Maverick Virus is kinda like a dangerous infectious version of Rabies, but for machines instead of mammals.

Like before the mother elf was a thing, the maverick Virus was said to be incurable and you what else is a commonly incurable transferable disease?

Rabies (I know there’s other diseases but this one kinda struck me a bit if you think about the symptoms of the Maverick virus and Rabies especially with dogs)

A virus that can make someone go rabid and killing them. But it can also include these symptoms. To humans (Now with dogs…Use google amigos cause ummm you get what I’m referring to)

Now knowing that Machines are different meaning that the virus just makes them more insane and aggressive. Also another factor about Rabies is that it greatly affects animals that are mammals. It doesn’t turn extremely violent right away. There are even cases that people didn’t showed signs of rabies in months and Weeks before the symptoms starts to show and things go to Shiet in days.

Now unlike regular rabies in organics, Reploids don’t fucking die days later after they show signs of the virus. They are trapped in an endless hell of anxiety, anger, pain and violence with no hope for a proper cure. The only thing that can save them is just the sweet release of death.

And don’t get me started with the Sigma virus that’s just a whole other beast to talk about.

So I cooked up the idea of the difference between Regular Mavericks and Viral Mavericks

Viral Mavericks are basically rabid reploids who basically went feral and extremely violent for no reason, unable to be reasoned with no matter how hard you try to pacify them. One day they get sick and boom their processors goes completely fried (Slowly mind you), they cannot do anything as they slowly deteriorate into violent animals, also being in agony, death is basically a mercy for them.

Normal Mavericks on the other hand, are just Reploids who just does crime, criminals doing crime stuff it’s pretty basic ya know. These also the whole society that is paranoid of robots so it’s a very fucked up (and common) way to identify ur criminals by calling them a literal disease.

LITERALLY THE ONLY WAY TO PREVENT ITS SPREAD FROM BE INFECTED IS WITH VACCINES-

Like I can talk about it more about it but in conclusion

The Mavericks Virus is literally just a self evolving version of Rabies.

💥💥

[kitwilsonsass]

like im just genuinely sad about it lol. like im genuinely sad.

[venjamin-kingdomhearts]

if Daybreak Town Keykids had Tumblr accounts. sure someone else has already made one of these but here’s my take

0 notes

🎆 livelaughlux Follow

hey so - your boyfriend? yeah wanted to let you know that he gave into the darkness of his heart and transformed. yeah, he’s a darkling now. no, sorry, he just wants to steal lux. but look, now he has those cute little elf boots!

#sorry about your boyfriend

🎆 livelaughlux Follow

okay not to interrupt but which two leopardus members are roleplaying warrior cats in the notes of this post. i just wanna talk

13,700 notes

🌸 avas-favorite Follow

🥀 chainbonuschi-713 Follow

are you fucking tone deaf? there are actually kids in unions getting into fights over this shit. one of my old party members lost his heart to darkness over a petty lux dispute, and now you’re seriously pinning unions against each other? you’re part of the problem.

🌸 avas-favorite Follow

you can talk to me when your union isn’t dead last in the leaderboards girlie 😘

13,029 notes

🐍 anguissssssss Follow

i hate you sand i hate you cannoned camels i hate you wily bandits i hate you desert sun i hate you abu i hate you cave of wonders i hate you agrabah

43,713 notes

🌠 ventus-wentus Follow

going to meet master ava today!! i’m super nervous so wish me luck!!!

🌠 ventus-wentus Follow

ooooooooh she says she has something for me!!!! this is like a wish come true 😸😸😸💚💚💚

#its kinda dark in here tho

🌠 ventus-wentus Follow

GUYS you won’t believe what she gave me!!!

🌠 ventus-wentus Follow

why is there blood

3 notes

[toournextadventure]

l'appel du vide

a/n: this request was phenomenal, and I had the best time ever with it, so good luck pals

Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: violence, blood mention, swearing, Wednesday feeling Emotions Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

You shouldn’t have done it. You knew you shouldn’t have done it. Wednesday had told you time and time again to not do it. So why had you? What part of your tiny brain had told you to get in the way when you knew it would get you hurt or killed? She had warned you of Crackstone's power and how your wily wit and charm wouldn’t get you anywhere with him. 

And yet you went ahead and did it anyway. You half-wolfed out and punched and caught his attention. Wednesday knew you wouldn't stand a chance, and you didn't when he tossed you through the fire. It gave Wednesday the perfect opportunity to stab him through his black heart. That should have been the end of it.

Then Thornhill came by with a gun of all things and you just had to step in front of it before that horrifying *bang* echoed through the quad. What did you think you were doing? Not once had Wednesday ever asked you to do anything like that for her, she had even done her best to push you away. But now you were singed and bleeding out on the ground and-

-oh. Oh you were dying. You were bleeding out in the quad and Wednesday was just standing there. Her feet had rooted themselves into the concrete as she heard your wet gasps, saw the tears fall from your eyes, watched you claw at the ground because you were drowning in your own blood and she couldn't fucking move.

A single whimper escaped your lips, and Wednesday could hear it even through the crackling fire and rubble falling from the torn up quad. She could hear it even through the buzzing of Eugene’s bees and the pitiful sounds coming from Thornhill a few feet away. She could hear it louder than her own voice as she told Eugene to leave.

Her feet felt trapped by lead as she still stood there, looking down at you and watching crimson blood - which she usually adored - fall from the corner of your mouth. Your blood left a stain on your skin and why didn’t Wednesday think it was beautiful? It should have been. She had never cowered away from blood before, but seeing yours flow so freely? It made her sick.

Bianca got to you before Wednesday could even remind her body to breathe. She got to you first and pressed her hands against your abdomen so hard; did she not care if you hurt? The noise you let out would haunt Wednesday for the rest of her life. But Wednesday could just stand there and watch as your blood continued to flow around Bianca’s fingers. Did it make her feel unclean? Tainted? Would she ever be able to completely scrub your blood off of her skin and feel okay again?

“Addams.”

That was Bianca’s voice, she knew that much. It didn’t change the fact that there was something wrong with Wednesday. Never in her life had she ever shied away from blood and destruction and death. She had enjoyed taking down Crackstone, had gotten a thrill out of stabbing the blade into his black heart. But your blood, and your death? It was… it was terrifying.

“Wednesday, get down here.”

A siren song. It was a low blow, but a very small part at the back of Wednesday’s brain was relieved. A siren song took all decisions away to stay rooted to the spot and just watch you die. You were dying. Wednesday fell to her knees on the other side of you. The flagstone dug into her knees, ripping her skirt and splitting her skin, leaving her warm from the blood; yours or hers, she couldn’t differentiate.

“Can you put pressure on this?” Bianca asked. Her voice sounded muffled, watery, far away. Wednesday gave a singular nod, not daring to take her eyes off of your pained expression. “I’ll go get help.”

For what was probably the first time in Wednesday’s life, she hesitated. She hesitated because what would your slick, bloody body feel like under her fingers? What would she do if she touched you and found you dead? Death was supposed to bring her comfort, not dread, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to try everything in her power to save you.

It took her too long to lock her fingers and put her hands on your abdomen. The moment she touched the blood - your blood - she nearly ripped them away and pulled them back to her own body. But she didn’t. It’s like science class, she thought as she tried to ignore how hard it was to keep her hands in one spot. Except it wasn’t like science, and you weren’t some frog who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You were someone she cared for, and you were dying, and each second felt more and more useless because now you were coughing up blood between your pathetic whimpers.

Wednesday felt something warm and wet on her cheeks and she hoped it was your blood and not her own tears because Wednesday Addams did not cry. Not for anyone, not for you even though the life draining from your body sent a prickling sensation behind her eyes and a tightness in her chest. She did not cry because it would mean that you meant something to her, and no one could never know she cared for you and wanted you to live.

Her heart froze in her chest when she felt your hand, slick and weak, rest on top of both of hers. It was a feeble attempt at pulling her hands away and she didn’t give in. But the gesture, the feel of your skin both cold from blood loss and hot from the blood itself, sent a new fear straight through her heart and down her spine. You were dying. You were dying and she couldn’t even say anything to comfort you.

“If you die before I admit I love you, I’ll never let your soul rest in peace.” It was a threat, and an empty one at that, but you were dying and you wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t die, not on her, not on anyone. She had pushed everyone else away but you weren’t supposed to actually leave. What happened to all those promises that you were with her forever? That nothing could come between you if you had any say in it?

“Promise me you won’t die.” The words felt like scalding ash in her mouth and boiling acid in her stomach. She didn’t even know why she had said it, it had just come out. An impossible promise for you to make let alone keep. But she needed you to make it anyway. “Please.”

You squeezed her hands, a pathetic attempt, but your silent words were heard loud and clear. You were dying, but you promised her you wouldn’t, so you would be okay. Wednesday trusted that you would be okay because you promised her you would be. And no one broke a promise to Wednesday Addams.

She was so focused on you, on the shortening of your breaths, of the nearly indiscernible movement of your chest that she didn’t see anyone approaching. A pair of hands wrapped around her waist and tried to pull her back, and the adrenaline shot through her veins. They couldn’t take her away from you, not when she was holding your life in her hands, not when you had promised not to die.

“Wednesday, let them take her.” Enid? What was she doing there? Couldn’t she see you were dying? Couldn’t she see how serious this was, that this was no time to be pulling away?

But Wednesday fell back into Enid and watched through a haze as they - she couldn’t see who “they” were - took over, lifting you and carrying you and taking you away from her. Why would they take you away from her? Why would they take you where she couldn’t follow? Didn’t they know she needed you? She needed you like a fish needed water, like a heart needed blood, she needed you.

Wednesday Addams needed you, and just the admittance of that fact finally broke her and she let Enid hold her as those hot salty tears finally fell down her cheeks.

"It'll take time, but she'll recover." The doctors had promised a full recovery. That was really all Wednesday could have ever asked for, more than she could have asked for. They were making sure you kept your promise that you wouldn’t die, you wouldn’t leave her there. She sat at your bedside and watched over you like the grim reaper, except she was there to keep you alive.

“I love you too.” Your voice was scratchy and painful sounding and weak, so very weak after so long without talking. Wednesday’s eyes shot up and she met yours, bloodshot and hazy and drug-filled. But they were open, and they were looking right at her even if only partly. Wednesday didn’t say anything, she just reached out and grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

She was thankful when your eyes closed again because then you couldn’t see the silent tears falling from her eyes.

[specialagentartemis]

Musing about the Politeia again and realizing. Oh. I have an obvious solution for a plot hole staring me right in the face.

Okay so the premise I was kicking around is that most of this epic is being narrated by Polites to Penelope. It takes him 7 years to succeed at his cattle quest on Crete because he's just some guy with no political connections but but once he does, he gets back to Ithaca pretty easily because Poseidon doesn't hate him he's just some guy. He arrives several weeks before Odysseus does, and he immediately goes to the palace to share the news that Odysseus is alive and coming home soon, probably.

At the palace he encounters the whole [gestures at all the suitors] situation. And when he gets an audience with Penelope, he tells her the whole narrative, jumping back to the Island of Helios and telling the bulk of the narrative to the present.

And at the end, Penelope is like... okay. What's your angle.

And at some point Polites, only just having walked into the taut situation back on Ithaca and the obvious increase in pressure on Penelope to admit that Odysseus is dead and to remarry, and only now sort of realizing that he does not, technically, know that Poseidon has been pacified and even if Odysseus has been freed from Ogygia Poseidon might still continue to wreck Odysseus's shit on the way back, offers that, if, if, there is confirmed word of Odysseus's death, from human or god, then out of his love and loyalty to Odysseus, he will offer his hand to Penelope, as a way out of the suitors' demanding choice, on the solemn oath that she need never touch him if she never wishes, and that the kingdom will remain Telemachus's to inherit. His goal was to bring hope of Odysseus's safe return, but, should that hope ultimately fail, he can offer Penelope a way out of the pressure and threat that the suitors represent.

And Penelope is like. aha. There it is. Fuck off, you liar.

Polites: wh. wait what.

Penelope: Polites, man of the royal palace once, most beloved and trusted of my husband's men, his dearest friend, the only one who stayed true to the last, the convenient only survivor of his fleet. You come here, claim to be the second son of a royal craftsman, safe in the assumption that after twenty years I won't recognize your face as belonging to the palace families or not, tell me exactly what I want to hear--that my husband is alive, he has been pining for me these twenty long years, and that you remain loyal to him only, of course. You don't seek my hand, you would never, you are too loyal, but if he coincidentally dies, then of course you will weep with me for your dear friend and offer yourself to me. Out of loyalty only, of course. And then what? What good are oaths taken now once you have the throne you're after?

Polites: I'm... not...

Penelope: I will admit: I fell for it, for a while. You told me exactly what I wished to hear. And is that not the mark of the ideal lie? Many men have told me that Odysseus is dead, to give up waiting and to choose a new husband now. You are the first to tell me Odysseus is alive and you too long for his safe return, and only, should he tragically prove to be dead, would you reluctantly offer yourself for Ithaca's throne. As a ploy, it's easily the best one that's been made so far. You tell it well. I'd be impressed, if the subject of the lie wasn't so cruel.

Polites: It's?? the truth???

Penelope: Of course it is. Of course this time it is. And of course this time when your awaiting friend arrives to tell me of Odysseus's tragic death, then that will be true, too. Get out of here.

I think it's fun to play with a Penelope who's a wily liar herself and is ready to assume that because this is the lie she would tell if she was trying to be a suitor, this is the lie that would work on her, she has to be on guard against it because that's gotta be what this is. Also get in a "ngl your clever and brazen lying is kinda hot. Unfortunately I do not tolerate lies about that in this house."

Athena thinks this is super funny and endearing so she is not interfering to help.

Also when Odysseus does come back he reunites with Polites enthusiastically and Penelope goes oh. huh. you do know him. all of that was real. wild. anyway

[himejoshikomaeda]

LES FOISFOIS FAVORITE SONG FROM EACH TOUHOU SOUNDTRACK

th01 highly responsive to prayers: gotta be eternal shrine maiden. angel’s legend is good, but eternal shrine maiden just has what the PC-98’s soundboard did best. little beeps and boops that somehow sound so chock-full of emotion. fantastic stuff.

th02 story of eastern wonderland: love-colored magic is, of course, legendary, but my favorite for this game is complete darkness. absolutely masterfully work with that melody.

th03 phantasmagoria of dim.dream: obligatory respects to strawberry crisis to make sure i don’t get mauled for saying this, but reincarnation is my personal favorite off this soundtrack. there isn’t really a place to note this, but the SC-8850 version of reincarnation is fucking phenomenal, too.

th04 lotus land story: blah blah blah bad apple okay no but seriously it’s maiden’s capriccio. that’s reimu’s theme. i don’t care about this mystic oriental love consultation shit, this spring path crap. maiden’s capriccio. the imperishable night version fucks hard too.

th05 mystic square: this one is really hard. romantic children rules. plastic mind is unreal. the grimoire of alice fucks. but the best one in my opinion is alice in wonderland. extra stage themes tend to be really good, but i looooooove this one.

th06 embodiment of scarlet devil: locked girl ~ the girl’s sealed room. again being a contrarian here and not picking UN owen was her. cuz. i dunno. i like it.. be nice to me.. side note, but i love how the instruments in eosd and dolls in pseudo paradise sound.. idk, out of tune? it’s nice.

th07 perfect cherry blossom: there are a lot of really good ones here but i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t necrofantasia, contrarian though i may usually be.

th08 imperishable night: i don’t knowwww this one’s too hard they’re all so good.. illusionary night ~ ghostly eyes, nostalgic blood of the east ~ old world, flight of the bamboo cutter ~ lunatic princess, and extend ash ~ person of hourai all come to mind, but honestly i think i have to give it to love-colored master spark. i know it’s not “from” this game but it’s my favorite on the soundtrack, sooooo.. whatever. my list.

th09 phantasmagoria of flower view: wind god girl. “that’s from shoot the bullet” i knowwww shut upppp i’m not doing side games.

th10 mountain of faith: faith is for the transient people, full stop. the gensokyo the gods loved is practically the “touhou theme” to me, but sanae’s theme is like. in my top 3 favorite songs in the series. those guitars kick ass. this game’s soundtrack is phenomenal.

th11 subterranean animism: green-eyed jealousy. followed closely by satori maiden ~ 3rd eye. literally every song on this game’s soundtrack is a banger. a real no-skip album. but i am fucking addicted to parsee’s theme. it’s like bitter, ugly crying as music. i can’t sing its praises enough.

th12 undefined fantastic object: this game sucks ass but the music’s good. emotional skyscraper ~ cosmic mind is the best song.

th13 ten desires: it’s shoutoku legend ~ true administrator, but i wanna give a shout-out to night sakura of dead spirits anyway, because it’s great.

th14 double dealing character: kobito of the shining needle ~ little princess. but i mean. i am kissing reverse ideology on the mouth with tongue. i love you seija i love you shimmy you’ll get ‘em next time

th15 legacy of lunatic kingdom: honestly? unforgettable, the nostalgic greenery. i love the spacey sound of this soundtrack, and none of them capture that sound better than that. the lake reflects the cleansed moonlight is good for the same reason. i have a lot of love for the sea that reflects one’s home planet, too.

th16 hidden star in four seasons: not huge on this soundtrack, but my favorite song is swim in a cherry blossom-colored sea.

th17 wily beast and weakest creature: electric heritage. what a tasty piano in this one. the gorgeous melody is also present in entrust this world to idols ~ idolatrize world, but i like the piano in electric heritage better. idolatrize world is an easy second, though.

th18 unconnected marketeers: this soundtrack is so romantic. very lovely melodies. my favorite is the perpetual snow of komakusa blossoms. it’s memorable to me for whatever reason.

th19 unfinished dream of all living ghost: i’m gonna choose to limit myself to the songs that aren’t covers of existing touhou songs, cuz some of them are pretty similar even if i might like them “more”, like corpse voyage ~ be of good cheer. so i’ll go with the deviants’ unobstructed light ~ kingdom of nothingness. the vocal samples are cool.

i’ll list my favorite songs from the doujin albums in a separate reblog, because damn this is getting long!!

[disillusioneddanny]

Here’s a little snippet of a one shot I’m working on :3

Tim stood and watched as Red Hood glared at the garbage can. He knew what Red Hood was doing there, knew that just less than twenty four hours ago, a little girls body had been found in that very same garbage can. Tim watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“So, are you going to tell me what you know?” He finally asked, leaning on his bo-staff. Ready to fight his predecessor at a moments notice. The scar on his throat stung at the memory of the first fight between them, nearly two years before when Tim had been a wily thirteen year old kid, ready to prove to the world just how capable he was. He was fifteen now and knew that there was still so much for him to learn, so much he still needed to gather so that he could fully understand the world around him. He was fifteen and had survived three murder attempts by his predecessor and had finally come to terms with the fact that his hero hated him.

Which was fine. It was fine. Tim could work with that. He wasn’t here for Jason, he wasn’t here for the Red Hood. He was here because he was a soldier, he was here because no one else has been able to put Bruce’s broken pieces back together. He was here for as long as he was needed. And when the time came and he was no longer needed, he would remove the mask; he would give up his title and finally rest.

But not yet. The Mission still required him to be at its beck and call. And that meant confronting Red Hood of the series of murders going on in Gotham City. Someone was targeting mafia and crime bosses all over, but not directly. No. They were going after the boss's kids. They were killing children in an attempt to break the heads of command.

And Tim knew exactly one person who had no problem hurting children if it meant obtaining his goals. The scar that marred his very own throat reminded him of that.

Red Hood turned and looked at Tim and the younger boy could just picture the sneer that marred the older man’s face.

“You think I did this?” He asked incredulously before he let out a harsh laugh. “Hate to break it to ya Pretender. But I don’t hurt kids.”

Tim snorted, resting his chin on his Bo, the very definition of cool, calm, collected. If only he actually felt that way. His heart was beating a mile a minute. “No need to lie, Hood, we both know that’s not true.”

A growl escaped Hoods throat as he marched toward Tim, and Tim tried his best to calm his racing heart as he leveled Hood with a cool look of his own. “I’ll do a lot of shit, replacement. I’ll kill drug lords and rapist, whole fuckin’ nine yards. But I have never and will never hurt a kid. That girl was thirteen years old, she had her entire life ahead of her and some jackass took that away from her. I don’t fucking hurt kids,” he snarled out.

Tim blinked a few times beneath his domino before he let out another snort, soft, self deprecating. “I was thirteen when you slit my throat and left me for dead Hood. For someone who doesn’t hurt kids, I have the scars to prove otherwise,” he said softly, his heart aching.

If Jason was so solid in his belief that he didn’t hurt kids, then what was Tim? Was Tim so worthless in his hero's eyes that he wasn’t even considered a person, a kid, at all? Just another stepping stone for Jason to get his weird revenge on Bruce.

Red Hood suddenly stilled in front of him. “Kid I—“

Tim just gave him a grim smile. “Save it Hood, you said it yourself. You don’t hurt kids, so don’t call me one,” he said quietly before shooting his grapple up into the air and taking him away before the tears fell in front of the one person he has always looked up to.

[fizzingwizard]

I was genuinely looking forward to Lupin vs Holmes in part 6, but what a disappointment it was. Actually, disappointment is too weak a word. In my opinion, it was pretty much a disaster.

There were so many reasons to be hyped for that crossover. You've got Holmes, the greatest detective of his time, and Lupin, the greatest thief of his. They're both canny, eccentric, and always a step ahead of everyone else. They're also both independent and live by their own set of morals. Holmes picks which cases he'll take without concern for money, and lets people go even if they're guilty if his own convictions say they don't deserve punishment. Lupin always does what he wants, doesn't let himself get pushed around, and enjoys wreaking havoc among inhumane criminals just as much as he enjoys flouting the law.

They're even perfectly matched in the ways they're different. I was open to them either liking or disliking each other (though I feel convinced they'd definitely have respect for each other), because I can see either take making sense. Holmes is calculations with a pinch of chaos, Lupin is chaos with a measured dash of calculation. Holmes eschews relationships aside from a very few - Lupin enjoys social interaction (but prioritizes just a few). Holmes is functionally asexual. Lupin is never not horny.

Even the supporting cast was so promising! To tell the truth, from watching previous seasons I didn't really think the rest of the Lupin gang or Watson would have much to do. But I hoped they would because there was so much potential.

I mean Jigen and Watson are both war veterans in their own way. It's not the best comparison (Watson was a doctor, and got shot almost immediately... but he is also a "man of action" and does have a lot of fight and pluck, even if he's not going to be a match for Jigen in terms of marksmanship). And they're the right hand men of two pretty difficult geniuses... couldn't they spend a moment commiserating lmao.

It could have been awesome to see Fujiko interact with Holmes because her usual tricks wouldn't work on him. I admit it isn't unlikely the show would have been like "Ahh, but this time they do work on him, just like Irene Adler!" and totally ignored that book!Irene impressed Holmes with her wiliness and not her sexiness... But I'm talking about my fantasy here. And in my fantasy, Holmes would have had a similar reaction to Fujiko's manipulation and acting skills similar to how he did with Irene. It would have been pretty cool to see Fujiko interact with a man who was NOT into her, but was just as smart and brave and perhaps wiser than Lupin.

Even Goemon would have had something to do. He could have had a super cool kenjutsu vs baritsu ("what even is that?") battle with Holmes. Extra points if Goemon walks away saying "I respect the skill of that fellow warrior, even if he can't spell his own martial art correctly."

And of course Lestrade and Zenigata's shenanigans at Scotland Yard are a nobrainer. But serious bonus points if they both pine away with equal envy and admiration for their respective smart ass thorns in the side hahahahahahaha.

I mean. There was SO MUCH there. How, HOW do you mess that up???

(Answer: By knowing absolutely nothing about Sherlock Holmes to begin with and basing everything on your memories of inaccurate movies from fifty years ago x'D)

So instead we got: perpetually sad, somber Sherlock Holmes, who isn't working the job that he literally loves anymore in favor of looking miserable a lot and raising a child. And the child is Watson's kid, who Watson can't raise because he's fucking DEAD, and mom can't raise because SHE'S dead (just say Holmes is her mom. Come on. We're in the future. Just say it). Also Watson is dead because Lestrade killed him like WHAT. Of all the twists they could have gone one, they definitely surprised me with that one. Was it a fun surprise though? ... No, no it wasn't.

Add to that the extremely dull characterizations of everyone, the heavy reliance on the danger to a little girl who isn't even a canonical character but is very cute, and the slow, slow pace of the episodes... What a mess. It was memorable, sure, but for the wrong reasons.

Like the only thing I can think of that I didn't hate about the whole arc was Lily taking her first steps as Holmes's assistant at the very end. Fine, that's adorable, and makes me feel ever so slightly better about Watson being dead. And I'm desperate for something to like here so let's go with it.

("It's not really Sherlock Holmes anyway because of the generational difference, it's his great grandson who has his exact same name and job! Same with Watson and Lestrade and sexy Mrs Hudson and and and-" I'm gonna stop you right there we all know it's Holmes. Whatever excuses they make, no matter how they have to bend time and physics to make it happen, it is Holmes Prime in every way that matters lol.)

A melancholy sigh for the Coolest Crossover Ever That Wasn't. As a Lupin fan and a Sherlock Holmes fan, I'll regret it till the day I die.

[xdaddysprincessxx]

The Cabin in the Woods lll

Dave York x f!reader

Dead dove/dark fic, dubcon, gun kink, oral (m & f receiving) piv (wrap ya wily, we don’t want babies) 1 slap, 1 spit in the face, breeding ish kink, reader is also manipulative in a way wink wink, I think that’s it let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: Back down in the basement, your forced to be alone with your thoughts. And your thoughts seem to be focused solely on the mystery man . . .

Warnings:

A/n: Part tres amigos! I am absolutely enjoying writing these two little devils! I’m not sure how many parts this is actually gonna have, in all honesty I’ve just been vibing and going off of that lol but I am planning another series soon so check out the little teaser I made

Ever since the man brought you back down to the basement, your time at the cabin hasn’t been terrible. He’s been consistent with bringing you food and water regularly. Every few hours or so he comes and brings you upstairs to use the bathroom almost treating you as if your a dog he has to let out. The makeshift pallet you’ve been sleeping on is rather cozy if you ignore how hard the unforgiving cement floor is. The two of you never exchange words, the man mostly just grunts at you with the occasional kick to your side if your asleep when he comes down.

After what feels like a century, you’ve finally had enough. You’ve gone stir crazy being stuck down here. No one to talk to and nothing to entertain you except your thoughts, you’re ready to go postal on the man. It doesn’t help that your last encounter keeps replaying in your mind on a damn loop. Your no longer scared as much as you are pissed and horny. Two things you know for certain: 1) you want out. Now. And 2) you want the man to fuck you hard again.

Your ears perk up when you hear the man’s footsteps come towards the basement door, causing you to sit up ready to beg him to hold you hostage upstairs. You have a plan you’ve been thinking of for awhile now and now it seems is time to put it in action.

As Dave descends to the bottom of the stairs he flicks the light on and can’t help but notice how your sitting there almost as if you’ve been waiting for him. Pretty doe eyes look up at him all innocent like. Looking very much like a pure little angel that he very much wants to defile over and over again. Walking over to where you sit, he bends over sitting a plate and cup down grunting at you as if to say ‘Here, eat”

“Thank you sir. I appreciate everything you do for me.” You say sweetly hoping to butter him up a little.

“Uh huh.” Dave replies, suspicious as to why your thanking him. I mean I have done a lot for her. Kept her alive when I should’ve gotten rid of her especially after she ran from me, he thinks.

“May I ask you a question sir?” You ask quickly, hoping to get the ball rolling on this plan of yours.

“What is it?” the man barks out.

“What’s your name? If I’m stuck here with you I’d like to know who I’m stuck with.” You say using your sweetest voice, really laying the sweet angel act on thick.

Raising his eyebrow, he looks you up and down with a quizzical look on his face. “Dave. My names Dave.” He responds, feeling fine with giving you his real name knowing you will never leave this cabin alive.

“Dave, I like that name. Well it’s nice to meet you Dave.” His name rolling off your tongue, you can’t help but think of screaming his name while he takes you from behind.

You start to sit up on your knees as you lean forward on your hands crawling towards Dave, “Dave I must say I am very grateful for everything you do for me. But there is something else.” You say seductively as you look up at him with a sensual expression. Bringing your hand up, walking your fingers up his leg, “Can I please come back upstairs? I’ll be good I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll give you whatever you want.” You tell Dave suggestively.

“Ah I see. So you think you can look at me all innocent like, ask me my name and practically moan it out loud when I tell you, only to beg me to let you out of the basement?” Dave says as he bends down to your level, face to face, “What happened to ‘thank you for everything sir.’ ? You should be grateful I’ve let you live you stupid little girl.” He practically spat in your face.

Spitting in his face, “Fuck you!” You yell. In a split second after you said that, Dave raises his hand and slaps you hard across your face, “ You fucking bitch!” Dave yells back as he wipes your spit off his face, only to then grab you by your chin and force you to look at him.

“You wanna act like a silly, little girl and beg, then fucking beg.” He says threw gritted teeth. Roughly he shoves your face to the side as he lets go of your chin. Feeling hurt and your ego a tad bruised, you cast your eyes down unsure if you should actually beg like he said or keep quiet. The wetness pooling in the boxers he lent you is undeniable. That slap turned you on.

Dave stands back up and grabs his gun out of his holster on the back of his pants.

Using the barrel of the gun, he places it on your cheek and tilts your head back up so your looking at him again. “Open your mouth.” He orders. Terrified, you do as he says and you open your mouth.

Dave slowly caresses your face with his gun before he traces your open mouth with the barrel. “Such a pretty fucking mouth. Too bad you like to use your teeth.” Dave says as he starts to put the barrel of his gun in your mouth.

Shocked, you just keep as still as possible. The man put a fucking gun in your mouth! Dave put his gun in your mouth!!! So why the hell do you feel the need to please him and put on a little show? Show him how good you can suck his gun and maybe you’ll earn some of his trust and he’ll give you a taste of his cock again. You tighten your lips around the barrel and begin sucking on his gun. The cold taste of metal floods your tastebuds only spurs you on more. Bobbing your head up and down the length of the barrel you dare to look up to see Dave watching you through half lidded eyes.

“Fuck look at you. What a filthy little girl. Sucking on my damn gun like it’s a cock. Is that what you want sweetheart? You want my cock again?” Dave says in a low, baritone voice.

Keeping the gun in your mouth, you shake your head yes as best you can while keeping eye contact with Dave.

Grunting, Dave slides the gun out of your mouth while he unbuckles his pants to reveal his thick cock, already an angry red and very hard, all for you.

Your eyes widen with lust ready to swallow every inch he gives you. Before you even move the tiniest centimeter towards him, he puts his gun up to the side of your head.

“Aht before you suck my cock just know my gun will stay right here. You try anything and I mean anything and I will shoot you.” Dave growls at you. As scared as you are, feeling his gun rest on your temple has you getting even wetter. Licking your lips, you move towards Dave reaching out to grab his thick member. This time your able to get an even better look at him. The prominent vein going down the entire length of him on the side as it curves underneath. The head is an angry red with drops of precum already leaking from the slit. You drop your jaw and welcome his smooth cock into your mouth. His musky scent filling your nostrils while your tongue flattens underneath his cock. Bobbing your head up and down, you quickly found a nice rhythm, twirling your tongue around his cock while going up and down his length. Looking up again with tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you push yourself to go all the way down to the base of his dick.

“Fuck that’s right baby swallow every fucking inch just like that.” Dave purrs as your lips and nose hit his dark patch of curls.

After enjoying the warm heat of your mouth deep throating his dick for a little bit longer, Dave pulls you off his cock by your hair. Saliva strings connect you to him as you take a deep gulp of breath in, your chest heaving up and down. Wordlessly Dave shoved you down causing you to fall back on your butt, he gets down on his knees, completely level with you now. He grips your knees pulling your legs apart as he runs his nose down your thigh towards your pussy. As he reaches your mound, he rubs his nose over your mound and takes a deep breath, reveling in your sweet scent.

Sitting up on your elbows, you look down at Dave’s head in between your thighs in disbelief. You didn’t take him for a man who ever went down on a woman much less enjoyed it. Unable to hold it back any longer, you let out a soft moan as Dave kissed your lips. He took no time in pulling down the boxers covering your sweet, sweet heaven. Once bare Dave dove back in and started exploring your pussy with his tongue. He licked up and down your slit a few times, stopping to swirl around your clit. After a few swirls his lips attached to your clit and started to suck.

Unable to believe the scene in front of you, you couldn’t help but reach down and pull on his thick locks as you moaned so sweetly. Bringing a deep guttural moan from Dave as he continued his assault on your pussy. In no time you were already close. Maybe it was part of the fact you were constantly turned on thinking about Dave and how he felt when he fucked you. Or the other night when he helped you cum as he came on you. But you were loving this. Throwing caution to the wind you started to buck up in his face as you held onto his hair keeping right where you want him.

Growling, Dave grips your thighs, keeping you spread open as his tongue enters your pussy, fucking you open on his tongue. He can feel you clench, suspecting you were close already, this confirmed it for him. Going back up to your clit he starts going back and forth on swirling around your clit and sucking it.

That does it for you. Feeling yourself fall over the edge, you began cumming hard onto Dave’s face. “Oh fuck oh fuck yes yes please don’t stop oh god yes!” You practically shouted.

Enjoying the fruits of his labor, Dave greedily sucks up every ounce of your sweet nectar that he can. All too soon his mouth leaves your pussy as he looks up at you like an animal about to attack it’s prey. Soon you feel his massive hands slide up to your hips and toss you over onto your stomach treating you like a rag doll. As if you couldn’t get any wetter, your pussy gushes even more at the rough treatment.

Before you even get a chance to get up on your knees you feel Dave’s body cover yours and without warning he fills you to the brim with his cock. Splitting you open, feeling the sweet burn of being stretched wide, he gives you no time to adjust before he’s pumping in and out of your sweet heaven. Your whole body feels as though it’s been set on fire and you love it.

Pinned down by Dave’s body all you can do is make a deep, guttural grunt as you lay there and take every punishing thrust of his hips. “Fuck that’s it baby. This sweet fucking pussy keeps sucking me in. Gonna milk me dry. You want my load in this fucking pussy little girl? Huh?”

Unable to even speak you nod your head as best you can because good god you want his cum deep inside you. You know you shouldn’t enjoy any bit of this but you do. Oh god you do. You love when he’s mean to you, when he calls you names and even more when he manhandles you however he wants and makes you take everything he gives you.

“Nng fuck yes fuck yes you do. You want my fucking load baby you’re gonna take it. Keep every fucking drop in this pussy.” Dave all but moans out as he saw you nod your head yes. Loving how depraved and filthy you are. In the back of his head he’s already decided he’s going to keep you. You’re his now whether you like it or not. All too soon he feels his balls tighten up and after a few more thrusts, Dave starts coming deep inside you.

Feeling his cock pulse inside you, you can’t help but moan at the feeling of being filled. A tiny voice in the very back of your head almost hoping his seed will take, wanting to keep a part of him with you forever. And you suspect if it does take, there’s no way he would harm you if you were pregnant with his child, right?

All too soon, you feel him pull out of you, leaving you feeling empty and used. Catching your breath you slowly begin to roll over as you watch Dave pull his pants up and put his gun back in the holster.

Once Dave’s decent again, he grabs the key out of his pocket and goes to unlock the cuffs around your ankles. Pulling you up by your arm, he leads you back upstairs.

After being brought back upstairs, Dave takes you to the bedroom and leaves to grab a wet washcloth to clean you up. Carefully he reaches down and swipes ever so gently leaving you feeling so confused as to why he’s suddenly being so careful with you.

“You can stay up here with me as long as you can behave. The first time you wanna act like a cunt you’re going back down do you understand me?” Dave informs you as he throws the washcloth in the hamper by the door. Shaking your head vigorously, “Yes sir of course. Thank you.” You answer quickly before he can change his mind.

Nodding toward the bed, Dave pulls the comforter down as if to say get in. You crawl into the bed and lay down as he pulls the covers over you. Turning off the light, Dave walks around the bed to the other side and crawls in next to you. Soon enough you find yourself drifting off to sleep, feeling rather content laying next to your captor.

A/n: All comments/reblogs/likes are greatly appreciated and I love seeing everyone enjoy this story!! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for loving my first born😇

[randomthefox]

I'm starting to think sonic fans don't understand the word canon at all.

I swear they spam the word canon for everything. Even when it doesn't make sense.

Not to beat a dead horse but the ring tweet is the example I can remember easiest.

What is "rings aren't canon" supposed to mean? Genuinely what is the intended message there? Are they saying rings exist within the setting but the ones we see during gameplay are just for the player? Are they saying rings as a whole don't exist and are decorations only the audience can witness?

First of all, rings objectively exist within the sonic universe. That's an indisputable and easily provable fact.

Second of all, why did they word it like that? If they were trying to say "what you collect or interact with during gameplay isn't always a diagetic part of setting" then why not just say that?

Saying rings aren't canon is like saying the emeralds aren't canon. Yes they are and what exactly does that statement even mean?

Are we gonna start claiming chao and the chao gardens aren't canon purely because the majority of their screentime is during gameplay segments? Even though there's irrefutable evidence of them existing outside of gameplay?

It's like they think using the word canon makes their point unarguable or something. That or they just don't know how to properly articulate their claims.

It's a pretty prevalent problem on the internet in general nowdays. People treat "canon" like it's a popularity contest. Like when the Dragon Ball Minus chapter came out in Jaco, that was a chapter Written And Drawn by Akira Toriyama. Then the Dragon Ball Super Broly movie incorporated parts of that chapter for their prologue, and you had people going "oh dragon ball minus is canon now!"

"now"?

NOW?

How the fuck is it canon "NOW"? after being in the Dragon Ball Super Movie, but it WASN'T canon before?

It was WRITTEN AND DRAWN BY AKIRA TORIYAMA PUBLISHED IN WEEKLY SHONEN JUMP. You can't get more fucking canon than that, dudes.

People think "canon" just means "I really like it" or some shit. Or that it has received enough mass popular acceptance or something. As if our personal feelings about something has ANYTHING the fuck to do with whether or not it's canon.

And that's not even going into the school of thought that Word Of God dictates canon, aka the Disney Star Wars Expanded Universe Purge concept. Which I don't even want to go into right now.

I am a pretty black and white binary absolutist when it comes to canon. Whatever is in the TEXT is canon. Anything NOT in the primary text is not canon TO the primary text, but the primary text is ALWAYS canon to any supplementary text. Reploid Revo had a pretty good video explaining this back in the day but he got cancelled for sexting children or something so now all his videos are blammed (figures, considering he talked shit about Sonic Forces, anybody who does that is obviously a terrible person.) But the way he summarized it was, if you went to Megaman in the Marvel Vs Capcom games and asked him about his fights against Dr. Wily, Megaman would know exactly what you're talking about. But if you went to Megaman in the mainline capcom video game Megaman titles and asked him about that time he went and had fights with Captain America and Ryu, he'd have no idea what the fuck you were talking about.

That's how it works in my mind as far as I'm concerned when it comes to anything and everything. You go into the Sonic IDW comics and you ask Sonic about the time he fought Shadow on the ARK, he'd know what you were talking about. If you go to Sonic in the video games and asked him about the Metal Virus outbreak, he'd have no idea what the fuck any of that means.

The video games are the primary Text, and whatever is in the primary Text is absolute indisputable canon. Nothing anyone does or says or writes can invalidate the dry ink that is the Text.

[thelavendercatalogue]

The Plan II: Yata's Reaction

Link to Original Part 1 Post Found Here:

When Goro Yatagarasu had first started working for Inspector Zenigata, he expected many things. 

He knew working with the Inspector would be chaotic, certainly thrill-seeking at best, utmost terrifying at worst; Zenigata had certainly garnered a reputation for that in his long standing career.  Yata also knew. . . that in many cases, the job would be stagnant; a dead end. One where the prospect of growth and such was far more likely to be null-in-void under the weight of working for such a man with  a reputation like Inspector Zenigata. But that was something he had known, something that despite everything and every warning superiors and the like gave him, that he had come to accept and at times even actually enjoy, the work was thrilling and it was exciting, far better than anything he would have thought would come from a job such as this.

But as the time went on, it was apparent that there were things he had never come to expect.

And one such being, was how he would grow to secretly care for the gang like Zenigata had done. 

He never understood the weird relationship that the Inspector had with the gang. In fact he didn’t even know he had one to the extent of what he did. What he had originally assumed was simply just a form of mutual-respect garnered over years of a wily cat-and-mouse routine was something entirely different. He just wished he didn’t have to learn that during the period of time he was most frightful over losing his career.

The period that started just after Yata got shot was one of the strangest periods in his life. He knew one day he would get hurt, it was a given, but he had never expected to get hurt to the point he would possibly have to start thinking about switching careers. Getting bunked with a infamous thief like Lupin III wasn’t also in the job description,

And as it turned out, neither was bonding with him either.

Yata hated it in the beginning; still a new and intrepid apprentice, he didn't know about the other side of Lupin's personality, the more calmer kinder side to him. He only knew the chaotic trouble maker, the devious mastermind the news made him out to be. So to say there was some animosity toward Lupin on Yata's part was a bit of a understatement

He fucking hated being stuck in a room with him

But. . .as time went on that proved not to be the case.  Late night conversations with him had proven to Yata that Lupin was not the man he had previously assumed he was. What some media outlets made him out to bed, Zenigata would have cared so much for him. . . hell not even cared for the others as much if that had been true. And maybe he knew that, but perhaps he was also just - much like the inspector- too stubborn to figure it out for himself. In the beginning Yata may have been ashamed to admit it, but in the end that was what he was doing. 

He was bonding with the thief. 

In the week’s since Lupin had stopped talking, Yata had become lonely without someone to chat with. They hadn’t moved Lupin just yet, they had allowed him to stay in the room with Yata, perhaps because Yata was quiet. And he didn’t cause issues, and maybe it was also because they had jokingly designated Yata as Lupin’s personal Emotional Support/Emergency Alert-Companion, which was funny, Yata always assumed that position went to Jigen of all people, hah.

Heh. . . .

But they had bonded in the beginning, that much was true; so much so to the point even Jigen started to thank Yata for keeping Lupin company when he was not around and given the whole fact Jigen was never one for talking even when Yata still tried to make small talk, often to focused on the other to even bother to even notice that Yata even existed and when he did talk, conversation was brief- Yata felt. . for some odd reason, a small sense of a strange profound sense of pride; getting a thanks from a man as Dark and Mysterious as Jigen.

And maybe that was when he had finally realized how much things had changed. . .and perhaps even how much he enjoyed that change.

The weeks leading up to the plan were emotionally draining to say the least. Yata never thought he would admit it to himself, but he was nervous about the state Lupin was in. He was never in the room long enough anymore, with them constantly running test after test so late into the day that sometimes by the time they came back it would be late into the night.

On the day of the plan, it was ultimately Jigen who told Yata about Lupin’s leg and the surgery he needed. He figured he owed the young man an explanation, after all he had been kind to Lupin these last few weeks, and had looked out for him in time’s where Jigen could not.

Jigen had owed him that kindness, he figured at the very least. 

It was late afternoon when they wheeled Lupin away, and when Yata wishes them Luck, he doesn’t notice how Jigens brow’s suddenly pinched together. 

Normally Infectious Debridement Procedures may take anywhere from a few minutes to an hour or more, depending on the condition of both the patient and the wound and location of the wound site. Most of the time, the primary objective of debridement is to normally remove all the devitalized (rotten) tissue from the wound bed in order to promote wound healing. In many cases it’s simple depending on the level of infection. Surgical debridement often will have a higher risk for bleeding along with general complications after anesthesia. 

In Lupin’s case, it was easy to fake him throwing a clot as being the thing that ultimately killed him. 

A very large pulmonary embolism (blood clot in the lung) can cause an instantaneous cardiac arrest should it flow into the right. . .well. . wrong vein, and while a clot can form after any type of procedure, you're often more likely to get one if you've had major surgery, particularly on your abdomen, or in Lupin’s case either the pelvis, hips, or legs or perhaps all three. Sometimes, the surgery itself can cause a blood clot. Long procedures where you're lying on the operating table for many hours allow your blood to settle and pool, which makes it easier to clot. Tissue, debris, fat, or collagen could get released into your blood system during an operation, making blood thicker around those particles. For Lupin, surgeries that involve scraping or cutting into a bone, such as a hip replacement, or in this case surgical debridement may release substances known as antigens. These antigens trigger your body's immune system and can lead to clots. 

Whatever the case, it was a perfect recipe for disaster that all started and ended with Lupin having blood stream from his nose and mouth not even an hour in the recovery-wing. And despite best efforts, there was nothing no one could do.  

And despite how much it destroyed him to admit, Jigen was happy one thing did not come true and was happy to admit one thing. That the mobsters who had caused this had been wrong, that their warning had never come true Lupin may have died choking. . .

but at least he had never died screaming

But Lupin had died no matter what, and the automatic response was the attempt of a quiet shutdown of the entire hospital to keep it away from the media as long as possible while the gang was left to mourn their loss. But then came the issue with telling Yata.

Because the plan had to move very fast following Lupin's "death",  Zenigata had to leave near automatically- it was under the guise that he had to alert his superiors about this drastic development, but in actuality he was suppose to be the one who would go with the still alive Lupin on the drive OUT to where they were dropping him off, while JIGEN stayed behind to stay and "mourn" with the rest of the gang.

However as a consequence to this, Zenigata didn't get back until much later on, practically the next morning, and because ICPO was too busy shutting down the hospital, no one thought to tell Yata anything. Zeni wasn't there to tell Yata originally what was going on and as a result of it all, like any death of a "VIP" they locked down the hospital entirely and ICPO had to be sent on "high alert" mode due to Zeni's absence, basically leaving it to wait until Zeni came back whenever Yata asked what was going on.

So basically Yata had to wait, probably didn't sleep much as a result, until Zeni came back after so many hours only to then be told by his superior that the man he had basically been bonding with these last few weeks and essentially became friends with was by all accounts dead and that the reason he hadn’t been there to tell him is because Zeni was simply dealing with the aftermath of it all, trying to get things to "calm down" long enough before he could properly tell him 

When he’s finally told, Yata doesn’t react like many would assume Yata completely emotionally shut down

He was still able to function and act like a person, but he does so as a total blank slate. Completely devoid of any emotion.

He was overwhelmed and his mind's response was to hit the off switch to protect him. 

He feels like he should cry, but he doesn't. The tears just won't come.

He feels like he should scream, but he doesn't. His voice just won't work.

He feels like he should run, but he doesn't. His feet are rooted to the floor.

The only response he can give is an almost silent

"Oh."

He spends the rest of that day in a state of tension. Frayed. Anxious. He jumps at every sudden sound and doesn't look anybody in the eye. He moves at double speed and spends all his time not moving just sitting in his chair, staring out the window. And when he’s ultimately allowed to finally go home, he doesn't eat.

He just lies on his side in bed, staring at the wall.

Maybe he sheds a tear or two, but he doesn't cry.

He just feels

Empty.

And he still doesn’t cry.

All it comes to a head though, one night some weeks later. He  was frustrated and guilty because he felt as though he should be crying but just isn't

he was lying on his bed feeling frustrated at himself

and then he heard a rhythmic tapping noise

It was probably mice in the ceiling, 

But out of instinctual habit,  he tries to sing to himself to cheer himself up, just like he had in the hospital

but his throat gets tighter and tighter, his voice more choked…

he never gets the last note out

he fucking looses it right there

mostly it's because of delayed grief mostly its because he hates that he never cried when it counted

He doesn't even know why he's crying, let alone over a criminal he had been trying to throw in jail these last few years, at least that's what he tries to tell himself to make himself feel better.

But he is crying over it, cause for some strange reason

it hurts

but he doesn't understand the why even now

why does it hurt so much

Maybe a quiet realization

He'd enjoyed the company. He'd enjoyed those quiet conversations. He'd enjoyed Lupin listening to him sing, having an audience even if it was a captive one, getting to know the man on some level, providing some kind of psychological sustenance to keep each other alive and sane.

He'd enjoyed spending time with the man.

Yata never had a lot of friends growing up, he was alone most of his life

So it was honestly safe to assume one thing Lupin was his friend.

And now he was gone

And he was never coming back

And somehow. . .it hurt so much more admitting it then he thought it would

[bassboosted-moon-chao]

Recurse into nothing, forsaken temponaut. Reject assimilation, return to fate.

Quint, the concept, the fate worse than death yet the death of one and only.

YEAH so I felt like drawing Quint, infuriated by the lack of art for my favourite doomed recursive sonboy. did this in 1 hour 34 minutes! originally it was just him taking a leap, and then I started drawing ribbons under/around him, and then they turned into the Time Stream, so I suppose he's jumping out of the flow of time like he's about to travel!

Poor boy is such a paradox. dead and alive, out of time and alone in another. I think the most fucked up thing about him is that room where you encounter Quint, and it's full of cloned Quint corpses. all inactive and in stasis. we don't know if these are Quints that died before and were replaced by the endless looping fate, or if Wily built multiple. but any explanation is deeply horrifying.

[childotkw]

Could you share with us some Regulus & Tobirama friendship shenanigans? Izuna's reactions to those shenanigans are very welcome xD

"And you're sure the earthquake wasn't your doing?" Izuna asked, blank-faced but despairing on the inside.

Tobirama - the asshole - nodded, still unfailingly calm despite the frantic movements of the shinobi around them, trying to put out the portion of the forest that was on fire. There was an Akimichi in the background desperately using doton to repair the fissures that had split open the ground.

Regulus at least had the grace to look guilty when Izuna turned to him. His friend was fretting quietly, watching the chaos around them with a little furrow in his brow while nibbling at his bottom lip. It was a confused kind of emotion though - the associated guilt a bystander might feel at not helping.

Izuna really wanted to sigh.

"Do you...know what caused the earthquake at least?" he asked, some exasperation slipping through. Fuck, but he had been dead asleep when the call had come in. He wasn't awake enough to be the responsible one.

"An unexpected shift in the earth's tectonic plates that exacerbated the current issues of this region," Tobirama rattled off, making Izuna squint at him. He was doing it deliberately, Izuna just knew it.

"It was a natural occurrence," Regulus translated. "But we think a lot of earth-related jutsu have been used in this area and it's damaged the stability, so when a tectonic shift occurs, like just now, the impact is compounded."

Izuna looked at him, tired and frustrated. Regulus looked up at the sky for a moment, then back down.

"The ground's weak," he said, simplifying his language and speaking slowly in a way that would normally piss Izuna off. "You people throwing rocks at each other has made it worse."

"Is this going to be an immediate issue or can this wait another hour?"

Why was it always Izuna? Why couldn't Madara deal with this shit instead? His brother was the one who actually wanted this fucking village.

Tobirama finally stopped standing there looking pretty, and actually bent down to press his finger to the ground. To investigate Izuna's question or just escape the conversation, he didn't care. Whatever bullshit sensoring technique he was doing, Izuna left him to it for the moment, focussing back on Regulus.

"What were you two doing out here in the first place?"

He had said it casually, more an idle complaint of why his two-thirds of his social circle were out in the middle of the wilderness miles away from Konoha - but the way Regulus' expression abruptly smoothed out had Izuna's interest sharpening.

"Just an experiment," Regulus said waving a hand dismissively.

Too dismissively.

Izuna's suspicious mind rumbled to life.

"I wanted to see if I could increase my control over fire," Tobirama unexpectedly interjected, shamelessly taking the blame when the blaze was still being put out.

That was how Izuna knew they were lying.

His rival was, much to Izuna's chagrin, actually proficient in fire release. The wily bastard could use all the elements with minimal effort, though his water release was still his most devastating skill.

Tobirama would never have lost control over a fire, even as a child. He was too good to make such a mistake.

That he was here, admitting to such a misstep - that he was hinting at a deficiency in his abilities at all - was more revealing than if he had just stayed quiet.

[nectaric]

the buzzing in his skull would not stop. no matter how hard momus fought for silence, his mind could not be satiated. he needed sustenance, a victim to prey upon, the foolish to mock. taking too long to satiate his hunger made his mind do wily, unpredictable things. it made his thoughts feast upon himself instead, that blasted buzzing his own voice mocking him inside his skull. least loved, hated by all, a burden upon those who matter and a scourge to those who do not. a cowardly, weak, pathetic piece of-

“just a few minutes,” momus pleaded, the sound of his own voice adding fuel to the fire of his hunger. he was a disgrace. he couldn’t even be scorn properly. but the voice would not stop, giving him no silence, no reprieve, no escape. his body ached for a rest it did not even need. sleep would be his only silence beyond the icy cold grip of death, and momus was not quite that desperate, yet. hypnos helped thanatos when the voices of the dead became too loud, right? he could help momus escape his own voice, surely.

momus hated to admit to a weakness - he preyed upon those, after all. he was not supposed to have them himself.

but he was tired. he was so fucking tired, and despite his better instincts, he sank onto hypnos’ sofa and whimpered at how nice a soft cushion beneath him felt. he collapsed, curling in upon himself. “do not let me sleep too long, or i’ll-”

the threat hung in the air. his head buzzed with hunger. “please, please, please pleasepleaseplease…”

@nightsongs

[what-gs-watching]

“Now, I may be wrong, but frankly, I doubt it.”

So I finished a draft of my new and improved resume today and I’m super jazzed about it. It looks hella professional (jokes on you, recruiters!) and it makes sense in a way my resumes never have before. I’ve got that nice, warm feeling of accomplishment going. Gotta appreciate the little wins where you can. 

Keeping with this nice little boost ( while I listen to 1989 Taylor’s Version), I wanna talk about another comfort show I got into last year. Stay with me here, really.

Murder, She Wrote.

HEAR ME OUT!

Wherein a retired English teacher from a sleepy seaside town in Maine that never gentrifies simultaneously discovers she’s incredible at writing murder mysteries and solving real life murders. 

If you were born in the 80’s like I was, you’ve seen at least pieces of episodes on tv when you were a kid. You could probably recognize the intro music and you most likely think ‘yeah, I’m good on that.’ BUT! But, but, but….

It’s really got everything. Random murders with ridiculous weapons that make you go ‘I really don’t think that would have killed someone’ and dead bodies with very little blood. Like, there’s never blood. And random guest stars you’d never expect. And murderers you can guess sometimes and sometimes you can’t because it’s convoluted or silly but that makes the episode better. But those wily murderers are always, always caught.

And there are TWELVE SEASONS! 264 episodes, running longer than the typical 42 minutes because we used to not shove so many ads down our fucking throats. 

I spent like, nine months making my way through it and it was fantastic. Jessica Fletcher is an absolute badass, and she’s the grandmother figure I didn’t even realize I wanted. This bish is polite to a fault, whip smart, observant, and she faces down murderer after murderer without ever losing her nerve. She is utterly fierce, but kind. And you don’t really get a lot of female characters like that. 

This powerhouse would outwit cops easily, solve their shit with the weirdest clues and seemingly random details, and then she’d make them feel like they did a good job and let them take the credit. She doesn’t want notoriety, she’s already got it through her best sellers, she just wants to help and ultimately catch the bad guy. 

There are so many things I love about this show. It satisfies my pure, unadulterated lust for ridiculous murders, while making you feel cozy as hell. It’s comforting to know that by the end of the episode someone was going down and everything would be wrapped up neatly. Sometimes you need that. 

And the fact that her character is an extremely accomplished writer in the universe is wonderful. Like, she sat down at her kitchen table one day and banged out some incredible book. And then kept doing it. Throughout the series, there’s mention of like THIRTY different books that she wrote. It’s totally implausible, there’s no way she’s writing like two books a year while also running into all these dead bodies but I love it. It makes my heart happy. It makes me want to write something, finally. Something real. 

And y’all. The cameos. THE CAMEOS! Young Courtney Cox. JERRY ORBACH and his entire arc! George freakin’ Clooney. Baby Neil Patrick Harris! That one guy from that thing, and that chick from the other thing! Literally, everyone. I got my sister watching and she was behind me so every couple of days she was getting texts about who popped up. It’s impressive, really. If you were trying to be anyone in the late eighties, early nineties, you had to get your ass on Murder, She Wrote. 

ALSO, Angela Lansbury is amazing. Hell of an actress, talent oozing from her pores. At one point, she plays her own British cousin, and it’s fantastic. She was in her 60’s when the show started! Like, someone gave a 60-year-old actress her own show. She was a ground breaker, a glass shatterer. She was a fucking icon. 

I’m not sure what I’m driving at here really, but the show is just, such a place and time. And that place and time are really beautiful and relaxing and soothing and silly and entertaining. You don’t get shows like this anymore. Everything has to be edgy and dark and foreboding and yeah it’s a show about murder primarily but it doesn’t feel like that. Why can’t we make fluffy murder shows that make you feel like you're just hanging out with your cool aunt, and she’s radiating  the intrinsic knowledge that everything is going to be perfectly fine? Why isn’t that a thing? Are we just that terribly jaded now? 

Jessica Fletcher is a treasure. And she’ll warm your heart from the inside out. If you need to be snug and cozy, Cabot Cove is the place for you. It never changes and it never should and there are no loose ends. It’s just nice. And there isn’t enough nice out there. Trust me, and get it where you can.