Violence Is Not An Answer.

i watch baseball for the side quests

LOOK BUDDY. I can do a lava moat. I can do a moat composed entirely of boiling acid. With certain provisions for the animal welfare act, I can even do a piranha infested moat! But I cannot. provide. all three services simultaneously in the same godsdamned moat. You call any contractor in this industry they will tell you the same!!!!!!!

I know the fandom mostly agrees that Jason is that one always unemployed sibling in the family, but let me offer you a slightly enhanced concept - unemployed sibling Jason, who is the busiest sibling in the family.

No one can get hold of him. Like, ever. And it is not like he is lying, he is genuinely always has something else to do! Something random and unexpected, and, honestly, all his family can think is: what the hell?

Bruce, frowning: Remind me again, why the dinner in the circle of the family today doesn't suit your... schedule?

Jason, shrugging: I have a book club evening in the nursing home. We are discussing Margaret Atwood's Penelopiad tonight. Can't miss it. Also, Jennet-

Alfred, confused: Who is Jennet?

Jason: One of the old ladies in the nursing home, duh... Anyway, yeah, Jennet is having a birthday. She would be hella mad if her favourite grandson missed it, you know?

Bruce: ...Jason, you are not her-

Jason: (leaves)

Dick: Hey, wanna join me for tomorrow morning's training?

Jason, sighs: Sounds nice, but I have classes tomorrow.

Dick, confused: Classes? Since when you are enrolled in college?

Jason: Oh, no. I am a substitute teacher in one of the school's around.

Dick: WHAT-

Damian, calling Jason in the middle of the day: Can you pick me up from school? Others are busy, there is an emergency in the town.

Jason: Damn, sorry, kid, but I am not in the country right now. By the way, do you want to talk with your mother?

Damian: ...What that supposed to mean? Where are you?

Jason: I was planning to visit All-Caste, but first decided to meet up with Talia. I am kinda in Egypt right now, anyway.

Damian: ...

Tim, already used to Jason's constant busy status, sighing: I bet you won't agree if I call you on the lunch tomorrow?

Jason: Uh, no. I have plans. But if you tag along with me, we can get lunch together later.

Tim, surprised: ...Okay. What do you have tomorrow? Knitting club? A shift in library?

Jason: Nah, graduation ceremony.

Tim: Right, you are a substitute teacher.

Jason: No, no. My graduation ceremony. I am getting my PHD in literature.

Tim: SINCE FUCKING WHEN-

A friend of mine has been reading The Locked Tomb trilogy aka descended into Lesbian Necromancer Hell . He's having a great time, and been sending me reports from the pits.

Now I know that in the context of the story "DEATH TO VULTURES AND SCAVENGERS FIRST" is very poetic and badass, but taken with the context that this is the motto of the bone-manipulating guys, the motto sounds slightly less badass and more like they've been having an ongoing problem with Lammergeiers.

Thing is,

A Lammergeier is like, the single most badass familiar an osteomancer could have. Fuck off huge raptorial bird that is either black and white or black and blood red so either way it goes with your goth-ass aesthetic and is extremely easy to train to bring you fun and interesting new bones? Why does the ninth house NOT have these?

Oh right. Jod.

Anyway, this combined with a previous idea I had about Truly Awful Bird/Mammal combinations for The Worst Gryphon Ever, and you know what? Some fuckass idiot in that universe WOULD make a Lammergeier/Spotted Hyena Gryphon. Now that's a creature made to fuck over necromancers six ways from Sunday.

Eats flesh AND bones.

Constantly scream-laughing.

Terrifyingly intelligent.

-And then whatever idiot created this abomination made it big enough to ride and drool corrosive venom because everyone in that universe automatically doubles down on any bad idea they have.

Harrow is sobbing at it's mere existence.

Gideon is trying to cradle it in her arms. This is their daughter now.

"Daddy harrowhark put a bone in mommy griddlecakes and she made Princess Bonefucker Ultraviolence 9000 and birthed her with her own womb-" Gideon is saying aloud in the most babytalk voice possible to the gryphon, who is rolled over on its back and entirely agreeable with being smothered with affection, because if the Gryphon has a sole redeeming feature it's that it possesses the zen like chill that comes from the bone-deep knowledge that it is at the absolute apex of the local food chain.

It's also wearing Gideon's sunglasses.

They do not fit.

Gideon may spoil Princesss Bonefucker Ultraviolence 9000 but that animal is OBSESSED with Harrow. It's a real Daddy's Girl kind of creature, and it will attempt to eat the face of anyone that so much as looks at Harrow without her permission. Harrow isn't sure about this thing until it takes an actual shilouette-altering sized CHUNK out of Ortus' ass, and then she becomes very fond of Daddy's Special Little Apex Predator. She deigns to give it one (1) headpat, and is treated to Princess Bonefucker's "Happiness Noise", which sounds like someone threw a handful of gravel into a running garbage disposal.

"Why..?" Harrow asks, feeling the remaining edges of her sanity start to melt.

"Why not?" Asks Gideon, accurately reporting the entire thought process that went into the creation of this horror.

I may need this later, for cosplay reasons...

Birb

Selfie?

(Pink Panther plays in the background)

I'm autistic and I currently feel like shit checklist

Hi there. Are you autistic? Do you currently feel like shit and don't know why? Try this checklist to see if you can Fix The Problem!

When was the last time you used the bathroom? If you answered "I don't know" or "at least 3 hours ago", go now!

Do you need a drink? Go get one if you don't have one in front of you.

When was the last time you ate? If you haven't eaten yet today, consider eating A Meal, or perhaps A Snack. Something is better than nothing, eat whatever you feel able to!

Is there something in your immediate surroundings that is bothering you? If the light is too bright, turn it off. If there is an annoying sound, make the sound stop or reduce your ability to hear it (earplugs, headphones, etc.). If your clothes are bothering you, change them.

Is your space messy? Pick one area of your room and clean it up as best you can. Clean your whole room if you have the energy!

When was the last time you did An Activity? Scrolling on social media doesn't count. Try actively doing something fun! Play a game you like, read a book, make something, or go for a walk.

When was the last time you Spoke to a Person? Consider talking to a person you like if it has been a while.

How long has it been since you did something Special Interest related? Make some time to do that today. Infodump to a friend, have a nice long research session, look at related images or gifs, make art about it, whatever works best for you!

Try stimming actively! Put on some music and dance, spin in circles, go to the park and use the swings!

If you still feel like shit after trying all of these things, you might be tired or sick. Go to bed early and get some rest. Hopefully you will feel better tomorrow!

Hope that helps :)

Plane

CAN you PLEASE PLEASE make a drabble of Toji taking care of sleepy Mamaguro and Megumi? I think it would be so adorable. 🧎

oh to continue writing happy toji and happy mamaguro reader... 🚬

the mission was simple: stay up until 12 a.m. to wish toji a happy birthday. you and megumi, the last-standing warriors of the fushiguro household, sat by the door like hyper puppies, waiting for your beloved husband—your fearless protector—your batman (you are not explaining to a six-year-old what an assassin is)—to return home. it was going perfectly until your phone buzzed.

gonna be late. emergency job. don’t wait up.

you stare at the screen. then at megumi. then back at the screen.

the bastard forgot his own birthday.

your son, wise beyond his years, folds his arms and scowls. “so, what, we just give up?” you slap the table dramatically. “absolutely not.”

if there was one thing you and megumi had in common—besides your unwavering judgment of toji’s life choices—it was stubbornness. this mission would not fail. if your husband wanted to be late to his own birthday, that was his problem. but you and megumi? you were gonna be ready. so, naturally, you both made the worst decision possible.

sugar boost.

you and your six-year-old co-conspirator sprawled across the couch, sharing a single pack of gummy bears like it was some kind of sacred ration. one gummy at a time. chewing slowly. blinking at the wall in utter silence like two very small, very deranged owls.

"mama."

"yeah, baby?"

"do you think papa is the strongest man alive?"

"of course."

megumi chews thoughtfully. "do you think he could lift a cow?"

you consider this. "...easily."

"two cows?"

you hesitate. 

-

it’s 11:57 p.m. standing in the doorway, looking like he just crawled out of a damn action movie, is toji. the duffel bag slung over his shoulder drops to the floor with a heavy THUD, and he’s met with—

a beautiful handmade "happy birthday, papa!!" banner, decorated with poorly drawn badtz-maru stickers, because megumi has commitment to the bit.

you, sprawled out on the couch like a crime scene victim.

megumi, passed out on top of you, his little hand still clutching a half-eaten gummy bear.

toji stares. something in his chest tightens. he lets out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him. exhausted as he is, something about this sight makes his heart ache in that weird way—the kind of warmth he’s still getting used to, the kind that makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t screw up as badly as he thought. without a word, he moves over to the couch. and because yes, he is that man—he lifts both you and megumi in one go. you stir slightly, groggy, mumbling, "cow..."

toji frowns. "what?"

megumi snorts in his sleep, muttering, "two cows..."

toji, confused as all hell, just grunts and carries his weird, sleep-deprived family to bed.

the next morning, as the sun peeks through the curtains and the birds chirp outside like they're personally taunting you, you and megumi prepare for phase two of toji’s birthday celebration: chaotic wake-up call.

toji, the strongest man alive (and also the biggest sleeper in the house), is sprawled out on the bed, dead to the world. he sleeps like a log, one arm thrown over his face, mouth slightly open, because even assassins need their beauty rest. you and megumi exchange a look. a silent nod of understanding. then, in perfect sync, you both take in a deep, deep breath and—

"HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYYYY!!!"

toji’s entire body jerks like he just got shot. his arms flail, his head snaps up, and before he can even process what's happening, you and megumi double down with a second round of high-pitched, ungodly shrieks right in his ear.

"what the hell—"

but before he can even think about grabbing a weapon (because let’s be real, his first instinct is to attack), he realizes exactly who the culprits are. and oh, oh, you two are in trouble. his sleep-deprived brain short-circuits for about half a second before years of combat training kick in.

he lunges.

"oh—RUN!" you shriek, shoving megumi, but it’s too late—toji grabs you both in one swift motion, rolling over and pinning you down, locking both of you in a vice-like headlock.

"GOTCHA!"

"NOOOO—!"

megumi screams in betrayal as toji mercilessly ruffles his hair. you’re not spared either, as he buries his face into your neck, delivering an absolutely brutal barrage of kisses like it’s a full-scale attack.

“YOU WANNA WAKE ME UP, HUH? THAT HOW WE’RE PLAYIN’ THIS?”

"toji stop—" you wheeze, kicking your legs as he plants an exaggeratedly loud kiss to your cheek. megumi shrieks, wiggling with all his might, but toji just grabs him tighter, pressing another series of dramatic, disgusting dad kisses to his forehead. "UGH, PAPAAAA!" megumi yells, offended.

"nah, nah, you started this, kid," toji cackles. "you and your big mouth—what was all that ‘two cows’ shit, huh?”

"STOP!" megumi flails harder, but he is six and toji is built different. eventually, though, he relents, flopping back with a satisfied smirk, letting you both gasp for air like shipwreck survivors. "you’re the worst," you pant. megumi, hair now a disaster, groans. "i hate birthdays."

toji just smirks, stretching. "eh, still my best one yet."