#yes yes I could

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[gibbearish]

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[samuelroukin]

so many ways a character can be dog-coded. stray following someone home and begging for scraps. old and needs to be put out of its misery. attack dog. guard dog. lap dog. puppy that pees on the carpet from excitement. shelter dog just happy to finally have feet to curl up on. unsocialized that bites anyone trying to show kindness. silly goofy puddle monster. obedient until the leash comes off

[edlucavalden]

Learning to eat with your hands.

[the-dragon-girl-27]

It is the middle of a Sunday afternoon. You have nothing on, and aren't expecting visitors, deliveries or post.

Unexpectedly, there is a knock at the door.

you are greeted by...... her

[mzcain27]

I think game studios should just release their character creators online. For the times when I don’t wanna play the whole game, just the lil dress up part

[snaileer]

Hotel Phantom

No matter how much they look for it, or how many times Jason goes back to the same empty burned out lot, there is no sign of the mysterious Hotel Phantom.

Bruce, of course, goes near ballistic. Jason promptly tells him to fuck right off.

And yes, is he concerned about the sense of calm he felt there? Of course. But is he also not going to admit that in the slightest if it means accepting help from Bruce, even if he might be enslaved to a secret fae realm? Not a chance in hell, Dickwad.

And as the cases pile up, and missions continue, and the annual Alien incursion passes, Jason let’s it fade. He checked with his occult sources and they gave him… not an ‘all clear’ exactly, but close enough that Jason has labeled it a ‘whatever’ in his mind.

At least… until he’s in the middle of a car chase with a grenade flying towards his face.

Jason jerks his handlebars to the side, feeling as his front wheel twists under him, losing traction as he goes horizontal and the sound of tires screeching, fire booming, glass shattering and it all goes quiet.

Jason flicks his eyes open. Gentle golden light illuminates the crown moulding and intricate ceiling designs above him.

There’s soft piano music drifting in the background, the sound of light chatter and clinking silverware.

It’s the sort of ambiance that makes you forget al your problems.

Slowly, Jason leverages himself to his feet, able to recognize the pinpricks of glass in his skin but none of the pain that should come with.

Even his leg, that he knows he landed on at an awkward angle, and the 2 broken ribs that are still weeks from healing, they are nothing but a numb pressure on his body.

Instead, Jason lets himself wander forward, taking in the clean air and gentle atmosphere.

“Here for another night, Jason?” A voice jingles behind him.

Jason slowly turns around, finding the same woman, Jazz, who he’d met the first time.

“Uhhh… Yes?” Jason feels a million questions bubble up, but he doesn’t really care to answer any of them.

Except maybe.. “Hey do you know where my bike went?” He asks as he trails along behind her to the desk.

“All vehicles are stored in the hotel garage, it will be returned upon departure, not to worry.”

Jason smiles in response, glad with just the knowledge.

“Just tonight then?” She says calmly.

“Yes please,” He says, taking another glance around to take it all in.

“Wonderful. Here’s your key, then. Just find a seat and you’ll be served when you’re ready,” She says, sliding a key across the desk with barely sound, then gesturing lightly to the side room.

Jason nods, taking the key as he starts to walk. When he sits down in one of the plush dining chairs across the room, another person just like last time approaches, pulling glass from his skin and setting his leg.

They even apply a gentle salve to the burns on his neck and arms that Jason hadn’t noticed. It glows a soft green that seems to defy the golden light.

Jason doesn’t quite have enough concern to stop them, but he does ask, “What is that?”

The person simply smiles, putting the cap back on and standing, “Nothing to worry about, it’s a house mixture to help healing of all hotel residents.”

Something about the way he phrased it tugged at Jason’s mind, but all too quickly someone else was setting food down in front of him.

“I didn’t order anythi-“ Jason pauses, looking up at the face of the server, “You look familiar, have we met?”

He looks like an older version of Danny. It’s enough that Jason feels the need to ask more questions, though he can’t reach a sense of alarm.

The man chuckles, all broad shoulders and baritone, “You’ve seen my face. I’m Dan, nice to meet you Jason.”

Jason almost asks how they all seem to know his name, but the larger curiosity wins out, “Why do you work here- or How?” He blurts, surprised by his lack of verbal control.

“Danny saved me. We’re closer than you’d think,” he says calmly, voice self assured and confident.

Again, it scratches Jason’s brain, just barely there beneath the fog of calm.

“Can you leave? Do you?”

Dan gives him a look, like he’s said something odd, “Why would I want to? Just to be hurt again?”

The words bristle at Jason, but when he goes to say something, Dan cuts him off, “You should relax, you’ve had a long day.” It sounds the same as Alfred pushing him to eat and sleep after patrol. With the sense of calm, Jason takes it to heart, eating slowly as Dan walks away with a smile.

Once he’s finished, Jason heads to the elevator, fingers brushing the key in his pocket. Hadn’t it been a card last time?

Before he knows it, Jason is stepping into his room, and it looks the same it did last time. The bed just as comfortable, the sheets just as soft.

Jason falls into sleep faster than he has in years, the same as last time, his dreams blissfully silent of laughter.

He wakes up with the sounds of a workshop in his ears, fading as he smells food in the air. Jason stands in the dim light of the room, taking a deep breath that fills his lungs like he’s just run through a meadow.

It’s disconcerting.

And Jason still can’t find it in him to care as he finds his feet leading him downstairs.

Again, he finds Danny at the counter, serving people with a smile that seems to make Jason’s shoulders sag, his fingers loosen, every part of him opening up like he wasn’t covered in injuries.

Although, to be fair, he was pretty sure he’d woken up completely healed.

It makes Jason want to grab him by the collar and demand answers. Makes him want to force everyone to stop just doing nothing, tricking him into whatever wormhole soul eating dimension this is.

Instead, Jason orders an everything bagel with honey & cream cheese, and another caramel latte.

Jason sits at one of the tables set around the open room, his mind pushing to try and connect the dots of the situation around him.

It reminds him of starting out as Robin, when Bruce would drill him on clues for a case, pushing him to figure it out, do better, be stronger, be-

Jason feels the ceramic mug snap under his hand as the pit flares to life with a roar like a caged animal. He surges to his feet, heart pumping and jaw clenched as the stupid latte spills across the table.

What the hell was this? Why was he okay just staying here? He should be pressing them for answers, even just the other patrons. But instead he was lounging around like a civil-

“Is everything alright Jason?”

Jason whips around to see Danny standing behind him.

Their eyes meet, though he swears Danny’s eyes had been more blue than green last time.

It gives Jason pause, letting his mind settle, the anger disappearing beneath the ripples as they stare.

“Everything’s fine,” he says ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment as he realizes everyone had looked up at his outburst, “I just got lost in my thoughts, I think.”

“Of course,” Danny says assuredly, putting a hand on his shoulder as he moves past, “You don’t have to worry about that here.”

Jason tries to pull on any of the suspicion that had filled him before, finding it eerily out of reach.

“Right… Sorry, that just feels weird to me, I guess,” Jason says, shaking his head slightly like that will dislodge the thick blanket over his mind, “You sure you’re not drugging me?”

Danny smiles again with a light chuckle that shows his fangs, as though Jason’s words are silly.

Jason thinks it is a very real concern. Now if only he could feel concerned about it!

“Like I said before, you’re calm because you’re safe, you belong here, Jason,” Danny answers, tucking the rag away with a warm smile, “How would you like to stay for another night ? I’m hosting an astronomy viewing tonight and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Jason glances around the dining room, feeling the way his core seems to be empty of the ruling emotions he’s so used to fighting every day.

This place is like being able to breath for the first time in years without a hand gripping his chest with every breath, “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

“Great,” He smiles again, turning around to return to the counter with a greeting to the next person in line.

Despite his desire to interrogate, Jason finishes his bagel, forcing himself to look around the hotel instead, even if it lacks the paranoid attention to details that he usually carries.

Even so, Jason’s half-hearted investigation feels more akin to an exploration than anything else. He does finally talk to another one of the patrons, a dark-skinned man who’s eyes glint with the sound of gears and shuffling sand.

When asked how he got here, he just says, “I’m a friend of Danny.”

“But then why am I here? I didn’t even know Danny before coming here?” Jason asks, letting his frustratingly nonexistent anxiety be filled with curiosity instead.

Tucker pauses for a second, the gentle ambiance of the hotel wrapping around them both.

“You’re only liminal. You belong here. But aren’t meant to be here. Not really. Not yet.” Tucker says voice calm and confident. As though they were discussing their favorite art pieces.

The words make Jason’s brow furrow, confusion -abandonment- a whisper behind the shield of comfort.

“What do you mean I’m not meant to be here, then why did Danny ask me to stay?”

The sound of desert winds filters through the air.

“You’d need a key for that wouldn’t you?” He says, a playful smirk on his face that sparks mirth.

Jason slips his hand to his pocket, a dull surprise brushing through him as his fingers dig through nothing but sand within.

“You have a place to return to, don’t you? A place that needs you?” Tucker asks, voice just on the edge of imploring.

Again, the words stir something in Jason. This time they are not muffled behind the hotel’s sense of safety. Because it’s not dangerous. Not to him.

It’s a sense of duty.

His duty to the Alley. To his people. To Gotham.

He has to go back.

Immediately.

Jason turns around, letting himself move faster than he had his entire stay. It’s not stress, or pain, or fear, but the knowledge that someone needs him, and he wants to be there for them. And it’s enough to push through the sluggish feeling that comes with the calm, leaving him with a perfect level mind and a desire to do more, and do better.

“Are you heading out, Jason?”

He turns his head, pausing in his movements as he spots Jazz stepping through the comfortable lobby chairs.

“Yeah, I just decided I have some things that need me back home,” he says calmly, honestly; the words easy and full.

Something in Jazz’s expression pulls tight, but the comforting exterior never falters, “I thought Danny had mentioned you’d be staying the night, for the astronomy viewing?”

Jason chuckles, shrugging with ease and a smile, “I’d need a room key for that. I’m all good. I have to get back, they need me,” Jason nods assuredly.

Jazz seems to pause for a moment, her head tilting slightly as she looks at him. Then she steps to the side with a gesture of her arm to go on, despite the fact she had never been in his way, “I hope you enjoyed your stay at Hotel Phantom.”

Jason hardly turns back, his feet out the door as glances back, “I di-“ Cold city air hits his face and he turns, “-d….” The streets of Star city lay in front of him, broken glass crunching beneath the grit of his boots.

Jason looks behind him, spotting the boarded up windows and damaged entrance, then in front of him, pristine on the roadside like he’d never left it, is his motorcycle. That he’d completely forgotten about till just now.

“Motherfucker!” Jason shouts, stomping over to it.

He finds his leather jacket -mended-, his Kevlar armor -patched-, his helmet -smoothed and clear of any dents indicating a crash like the one he knew he’d taken, “Motherfucker!” Jason exclaims again. He’d forgot about his uniform too, how? Something so important, a part of his every day life? How? How did they make him forget something so integral and he just let them!?

Jason feels familiar anxiety rise up beneath his skin, tinged with anger. It’s almost a relief that he can feel it pulsing with his heartbeat.

Jason finds his phone quickly, seeing the missed calls and messages from Roy immediately as he puts in his helmet, followed by one’s from Dick.

He presses call as he revs the motor, listening as it rings and then his comm fills with Roy’s worried shout and scolding.

He barely notices that his bike runs smoother under him, just slightly quicker without needing more power, just slightly faster to respond to Jason’s moves, responding in synchronization.

Instead, Jason turns his headlights to Gotham without a second thought. And goes.

—-

Nearly six months later, Jason will be cleaning out a specific pair of tac pants he’d left in a rarely chosen safe-house.

And as he pulls them from the pile of clothes, a small stream of sand will trickle from the pockets, collecting on the floor in a serene, gentle pile.

And as Jason scoops it into his hands, he will remember that sense of purpose. And where it came from.

And the fact that maybe Gotham isn’t the only one who needs him.

Even if they wish they didn’t.

.

Hotel AU

Jason groaned, holding a military grade field dressing to his wound as he tried his best to walk faster. Gunshots rang behind him and instinct allowed him to dodge, but one bullet still managed to graze him by the shoulder. It only made pain flare up worse, but Jason just sucked in a breath through his teeth and toiled onward to get to safety.

His comms buzzed in his ear, but no one was available at the moment. Jason still muttered a soft, "Requiring backup."

No one answered.

Jason, for an existential crisis-having moment, wondered if he was gonna die again.

Just as he thought this, a hand grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into another building.

Jason cursed and pulled out his gun with his unfortunately injured hand and pointed it towards his assailant, but then paused.

He had been pulled into a beautiful, first class looking hotel area.

"What the..." he started, before he turned.

An enormously tall woman smiled down at him. She was outrageously beautiful, with long red hair tied into a ponytail and a neat uniform covered by an apron. "Welcome, sir, to the Phantom Hotel! You seem to be in need of some assistance, would you like some help?"

Jason felt eerily calm and level headed, even as he bled all over the floors. "... that'd be nice." He said gruffly.

"Right away, sir." She said with a smile. She waved to someone over to his side and continued to speak. "I'm the co-owner of this hotel, you may call me Jazz. May I get your name for registration?"

Jason still didn't freak out yet. "Registration?" He echoed, as he took in his surroundings.

The hotel was beautiful, with tall ceilings, marble floors, white walls and candle chandeliers that glowed with dim lighting. People that didn't look like Gothamites milled around the lobby and sitting area, all relaxed and chatting amicably. There were a few that were dancing to club music. There was a noticeable bar in the corner of the room that looked unstaffed but was conspicuous in its size and black coloring.

"Yes, sir." Jazz said. "I assume that you're staying the night? We offer breakfast in the morning, and drinks are free all night!"

Jason was silent for a moment. A person wearing a similar uniform to Jazz, with a dark green vest and dark colored apron, approached them and immediately got to bandaging Jason's wounds.

Once again, Jason did not freak. He felt oddly calm, and in the back of his head, he knew that he was safe here. His gut instinct was to collapse on top of Jazz and take a nap, strangely comforted by her presence.

"... why am I so calm?"

Fuck it. He decided to just voice his question.

Jazz giggled. It was a cute noise. "Why wouldn’t you be? There’s nothing to worry about. We're the same, after all!"

Jason blinked. Then he turned to her as the attendant stepped away with the medical box, Jason feeling all healed up, and he said, "Is a night here free?"

"For you? Yep! Everything is free here."

Jason gave a nod. "Then I'll take a room with a single bed, please. Breakfast is free?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great. The name's Jason Todd."

Jazz smiled, a sparkle in her eyes that made Jason feel all fuzzy with warmth. "Very good, sir. Your room number is 312, on the third floor. Here's your room card." She handed over a plastic card that was procured out of thin air but Jason didn't think about it.

He was mentally exhausted and being in her presence made him feel like he was going to drop and fall asleep on the floor and still wake up refreshed. It was so disconcerting that it was almost not disconcerting.

Jason eventually found the elevator, though not without lingering a little around the area. The vigilante in him was telling him to be careful, even though everything else inside of him couldn't give less of a damn and was telling him to kick back and relax. Jazz, after registering him, had gone to the bar to prepare drinks.

She mixed together alcoholic concoctions amidst a small crowd and the more Jason stared, the more it seemed like the dim light was hiding something. People looked like they were wearing ragged clothes and a lot of them had dark stains. There were quite a large amount of old people as well, along with people with seemingly missing appendages.

The last two details wasn't a bad thing, but the amount of them seemed like a hint to something bigger.

When Jazz made eye contact with Jason, she gave a sweet smile and a little wave, and that was Jason's signal to leave.

He got into an elevator, went to his room, and practically sank into the cloud-like bed before he basically knocked himself out. That night, he had never slept so well.

When he woke up, his body felt rejuvenated and he almost felt peppy. It was as if his previous irritations were only bad days and he had finally struck on a good day for once.

He washed up, miraculously found his wounds all healed up, and when he went to take a shower, his clothes were found on the sink, all washed and patched up. Even his helmet had been cleaned and fixed, pristine like the day he had first gotten it.

Jason could've been more suspicious.

But to reiterate, he couldn't.

Everything about this place was like a mother's hug. It was comforting. It made him feel safe. He felt like there was nothing to worry about and although a small part of him found this alarming, he really couldn't explain why he decided to trust it.

When he came down the elevator for breakfast, he was astonished.

Last night, the hotel had looked elegant and high class. Now, in the morning, everything looked warm and homey.

The various large rectangle tables had turned into small round tables that were densely packed together. The floor was a cool blue carpet and the walls had turned a shade of cream. The ceiling had shrank, but now flowers and vines grew from it, dropping from the ceiling with bright blossoms. The bar had been replaced with a little coffee area, with a young man behind the counter, currently taking orders.

The people sitting around and eating their breakfasts looked different in morning light. They glowed with faint shades of blue and green.

Jason paused to take in the sight, considering this information before he shook it off and approached the counter.

The man, after noticing him, immediately went to the cash register with a large smile on his face. "Hello!" He said cheerfully.

Jason immediately noted the similarities between him and Jazz. They had the same heart shaped face, the same ethereal beauty to them, the same nose and smile. This man, however, had bright blue eyes and dark black hair that swept over his eyes.

"What are you drugging me with? I'm way too comfortable here." Jason blurted out.

The man paused. And then he burst out laughing. Jason couldn't help the few snickers that fell out of his throat too, but they both quickly calmed down and the man explained softly, "We're not drugging you. You're just comfortable here because it's where you belong. Don't stress too much."

He continued to smile reassuringly. "Call me Danny. I'm the owner. What would you like to order?"

Jason's eyes flicked to the menu and then he said, "A California club croissant and a caramel latte, please."

"Coming right up, big guy!"

Jason moved a little bit away to the side so that other people could order.

He couldn't help but contemplate what was going on, but it was a little hard to think being this close to Danny's presence. The urge to fight against his soothed mind and the urge to just relax were warring, but unfortunately, his latter side was winning.

If Jazz had seemed comforting and like a hug, then Danny was the blanket, fireplace, hot chocolate cup and book on a cool rainy evening. It was like Danny was his missing piece that just sucked out all of the fear, misery, and rage inside of him.

It was almost crazy how Jason didn't want to retaliate against them at all.

"Here you go, Jason." A voice interrupted him and Jason looked up into crystalline eyes before something was pushed into his hands.

Jason looked down at his order and then up again. "Thanks."

Danny smiled. "No problem! You're pretty freaked out, huh?"

Jason shrugged. Then he thought about it and he asked, "Can I leave?"

"Of course you can." Danny said. "Come back anytime. For someone like you, you have the opportunity to come by anytime you want."

Jason nodded wordlessly and then, with his order in hand, he started walking to the door.

For one last time, he turned and met Danny's eyes. Danny smiled cheerfully, his eyes squinted in happiness. He gave a big wave and Jason returned it before he put on his helmet and pushed past the doors into the open air of Gotham's polluted and smoky world.

The rose glasses fell off and the pink sparkles faded away with each blink.

Jason stared dumbfounded at his own state of body and mind, as his siblings and family all screamed into his ear frantically, begging to know where he went and how he was.

Jason could only stare at the gray, listless world around him and wonder if he had imagined everything.

"What the fuck?"

[chloesimaginationthings]

Glamrock Freddy's life is so hard in FNAF...

(Based off @/sweepswoop’s comic)

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

[deskatt]

kids

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[faggot-md]

It's been 20 years today since David Shore looked at all the weirdos, cripples and faggots in the world and went pspspspsps

[tsotc]

fucking obsessed with the uni town i live in

[room-temperature-orange-juice]

So, you know all the different interpretations in how people draw (epic) Odysseus ?

Examples:

(Gigi, duvetbox, aniflamma, Ximena Natzel, and Wolfythewitch respectively)

What version of Odysseus (including but not limited to these examples) would win against the others in a fight?

Comment / reblog with the Odysseus drawings you want to see, and who you think would win. Polls start soon

[mylittleredgirl]

even if you're not a supernatural fan, if you've been on tumblr long enough you are, like, culturally. like cultural christianity in america except it's the cw's supernatural. you may never have watched an episode or set foot inside the tag but your regular life shuts down on their holidays and all of your world news is delivered through that point of view. something to think about