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which dc comics trio gives drake/kendrick beef vibes more

specifically i’m thinking of a ‘fuck the big three there a only big me’ situation where two of them go ‘omg we’re so great and awesome! also (insert character) is awesome too!’ and the other character finds out and takes huge offense to it cause clearly they’re number one none of this ‘too three’ bullshit

(they’re listed in the order of drake, kendrick, jcole)

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too old to be a protagonist too young to be a wise mentor, what else is left for me in this desolate portion of life? to be a a cool older role model who immediately fades into obscurity after two chapters?

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hi here’s a cool bird I betcha didn’t know existed, ✨the wallcreeper✨

it literally looks like a monarch butterfly it’s so cute

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About ten, fifteen years ago I wrote a story about a guy living in a Capitalist dystopia. His walls, furniture, and tableware are all covered in smart displays. Basically animated wallpaper. It's sold as being able to turn your room or objects into anything - A nice forest view, outer space, a fantasy realm... but the companies that run this stuff keep sneaking ads in.

It gets so bad he's always being woken up by adverts that offer insomnia cures and better bedding that play when he tries to sleep.

So he buys the ad-free tier, and it's great... for a few months. And then he starts getting adverts from 'premium partners'. So he goes up a level... and the same thing happens.

So he jailbreaks his wallpaper and sends all the ad servers to 0.0.0.0 and voila... he can sleep.

Until this SWAT team blows his door off and drag him off to jail. The Ad companies are suing him for loss of revenue for the products he' notionally have bought if he'd watched their adverts, based on some weird 'The average consumer buys X products with an average value of Y' calculation.

The judge is like 'well I dun wanna annoy the sponsors' so he RICO's this guy's house and possessions and sends him to jail.

... which is a nice relaxed non-volent offender jail for the corporately disenfranchised. But because these people have no money... there's no ads and now he's happy because the only place he's free... is in prison.

Which at the time was a bit much and now it's like: Called it.

Elon's suing companies for not advertising because he's losing revenue. He's also cranking the price of Ad Free Twitter. Disney and Amazon play adverts on their paid service when services used to be free because of the adverts... and now you have to pay to watch the adverts or go up a couple of tiers.

And google's going around freaking out about ad-blockers.

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yes and the third scenario is you get adopted and then eventually become the adopter after enough time has passed

question. do we think the adoption situation in gotham is a "you either get adopted or escape long enough to become the adopter" situation orrrrrrr

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texts sent to Neil the first month Andrew spends away at his first pro team

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omg that sounds amazing, lmk if you find it!

*Stuck in their civilian identities trying to stop a villain*

Clark: *whispering* Bruce what do we do?!

Bruce: *whispering back, stuck in Brucie mode* I dunno man, usually I just flash my tits and all my problems go away

*Clark’s eyes dart down to Bruce’s unbuttoned shirt and a blush takes over his cheeks*

Clark: Oh, erm, *cough* y-yeah I could see that…

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a comment under one of Ben Shapiro’s latest videos that i like

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it's really funny how the NYPD perp walked Luigi Mangione as an obvious power play so they could pretend they're badasses but instead they just look like they're leading Jesus to the cross

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i never thought about jason visiting his grave but now i fear i will never think of anything else

ice and stone, deadweight redux

In an odd sort of self-punishing way, Jason Todd liked to visit his own grave.

When he first "came back" he had half-crawled back to the unforgiving stone and thrown up, hysterically panicking when his mind told him it was dirt leaving his lips. He had wept and screamed until his voice gave out, trapped in a hellish loop of warring phantom sensations. One second, he was burning alive- the next, suffocating on icy mud.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, he had once again been unable to keep his cool at a Wayne family function. Now, he had shattered an expensive-looking crystal glass in his fist and stormed out of the formal dining room. Now, he was a monster to them again. Merry-fuckin-Christmas.

So, here he sat, perched six feet over where his corpse once lay, and mourned the boy that should exist instead of him.

It was oddly festive in the cemetery. Blood-red poinsettias and fragrant garlands adorned every other monument, with little LED candles glimmering here and there. The rubble of Sheila Haywood's marble gravestone sparkled in the reflection of bright city lights—like twinkling stars shining accusingly over at him. Sue him, but Jason had taken a crowbar to her marker almost immediately after arriving in Gotham.

He stared at the epitaph: Rest in Peace. There was crystal from his glass still embedded in his palm, glittering like diamonds amidst the rivulets of blood leaving his palm. His eyes followed the journey of the shimmering scarlet over his thigh and down to the powdery snow under him.

He didn't really remember crawling out. The pits had taken away the brunt of the scars, but there were still white lines traced into the tan skin of his hands. He didn't care to think about how deep the scarring must have been for it to stay.

Jason found himself trapped, staring at the red flowers blooming beneath him. Some part of him wondered if the blood would find its way to the wreckage of his casket, to the gore he'd left in his wake so long ago. Logically, he figured Dick would wander over soon, once he got done yelling at Bruce and arguing with Damian.

He never guessed it would be Tim.

"Hey," Jason would never in a million years admit it, but he was privately a little pleased that Tim had come looking for him. He had fucked up so spectacularly with his brother, had given him every reason to despise him- to want him dead, and yet, here Tim was. Awkwardly standing just on the other side of Jason's headstone, face pinched like he'd eaten an especially sour lemon.

Jason tilted his head up, something in his neck cracking as his chin left his sternum, "Sup, Timbit."

Tim looked genuinely pained as he stepped around the grave and lowered himself to sit a few feet away on the snow, "Y'know, just seeing the sights, festive lights, my brother bleeding out in snow- the holiday favorites."

Jason barked a laugh as something in his shoulders loosened, the kid was a bit of a bastard but he was funny, "You get forced to check on the charity case?"

"Drew the short straw, yeah," Tim's face was pale, save for the red coloring his nose, "do you need a med kit?"

Jason Peter Todd; Beloved Son and Friend. Jason's lips half formed the words as he read them over again; when the blood started roaring in his ears, he clenched his fist around the shards- the fresh wave of pain grounding him, "This won't kill me."

"That's not what I asked," the vehemence in Tim's words snapped Jason out of his half-daze, electric teal eyes landing on furrowed eyebrows and a stormy gaze, "Jason, are you okay?"

Jason huffed a weak imitation of a laugh, "Is anyone in this family?"

"This isn't about them," Tim immediately countered, a line on his forehead forming. Jason hated himself for it, for making Tim look like that. This was his little brother, a kid, really, and he looked twice his age because he was forced to babysit the family basketcase.

Jason used his non-gory hand to reach into his jacket pocket and take out a cigarette. "Just tired, Tim," he tucked the unlit cigarette between his lips, lighting it up as he muttered, "That's all—just tired."

Tim's face blurred behind a cloud of smoke, for a moment erasing the unlived age from his features, "You should get more sleep."

"Hypocrite," Jason snapped back with no real heat. It was true; he should have been the one telling Tim to sleep.

The smoke cleared between them as Jason took a long, deep drag. Tim looked half apologetic as he almost whispered, "This family's specialty."

Tim's face contorted again, coloring up to his ears with old anger and bitterness. Some cruel part of Jason's mind cheered. Finally, the kid was going to be honest. Go on, yell at the boogeyman who hurt you, tell him to go to Hell. Really end the holiday with a bang. The kid took a long, controlled breath, and evenly asked, "Are you okay, Jason?"

Jason grimaced at the bullshit question, pressing his bloody palm into the scarlet snow as he stood, flicking his spent cigarette at Sheila, "Just dead weight, Tim,"

He turned his back to the boy shivering on the snow, "That's all I ever was."

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after jason comes back to the league bruce finds out he’s in gotham but jason doesn’t want anything to do with him. bruce has no fucking clue what to do.

until.

he’s doing a short interview on a red carpet and the interviewer asks him who his fav gotham vigilante is. at first he’s just gonna give some random brucie wayne answer about batman being hot or something but then he has a lightbulb moment.

he then goes on to gush (for far longer than the interview should go on) about how he loves the red hood and what he’s doing for crime alley because that’s the one place wayne enterprises hasn’t been able to make an impact in. he also says he respects him even regardless of the killing because he understands his perspective that killing bad people stops them from hurting people in the future, even if bruce himself doesn’t think killing is right. the entire thing is slightly brucie, but far more bruce than the press generally sees

though he does end it by asking if anyone knows who the red hood’s stylist is because the white streak is just dashing

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came here to say this, glad someone is on the same wavelength🫡🫡

It'd be really funny if we ever get a greek trojan. I imagine they have a thick accent and avoid calling Jean by his surname. And at some point maybe Jeremy notices, and greek trojan just goes red and is like "dude, my accent is thick, I can't call him that, it feels weird." And everyone is like "????" And greek trojan explains "bro his surname. It sounds like the greek word for 'baby', I just feel weird calling him Baby". Cat is immediately feral about this, Laila is like "so if we just call him babe, we're technically saying his surname in greek?" Jean exasperated "I'm french", "don't be like that Baby" , queue almost everyone calling him some variation of babe or baby instead of Moreau at some point "Has anyone seen Baby?" "Is Baby coming with you?" "Damn, Baby got moves on the court" Etc. A coach calls him by his surname once and "Coach, he's just Baby". Jeremy's eye twitching every time.

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i can’t say i disagree that a lot of people just don’t give cats enough attention cause they don’t force you to like dogs do, but i do still think that the average cat is lower maintenance than the average dog. simply because of the fact that you have to walk dogs like minimum twice a day. even the most affectionate cat i’ve ever had that would try to suffocate me by forcing me to wear him like a scarf was lower maintenance than that.

Cat parents are the boy parents of pet owner

No cats are not “low maintenance” and easy to look after your just lazy your meant to look after it train it and meet its social and enrichment needs

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i just can’t get kevin and andrew doing chaotic press interviews out of my head. i like to think that one day they get to a point where kevin realised people like his (matured, therapied, still an asshole but at least he’s self-aware) personality, and andrew gets comfortable with being a little more loose, and they do a string of terrible (amazing) interviews pre- and post-olympics. these are the thoughts i rotate in my mind.

1. they have to fly to NY or smth and the flight that they’re on is terrible. andrew is obviously already nervous because he hates flying, and this is only made worse by sitting next to the Most Nervous Man in America. when they land — and they weren’t sure that they would — both of them are high on adrenaline and have to go straight to filming, but they cannot lock in for the life of them. they’re only trying to make each other laugh and they’re both delirious enough that at one point, they’re halfway through the interview, on the floor and wheezing. it’s such a whiplash from what people are used to that theories spread about whether they were high or not, but no, they were just a mess

2. they do those lie detector interviews and refuse to ask the questions on the cards. andrew asks kevin if he ever fucked on an exy court, kevin asks andrew if he’s guilty of murder. all results end up inconclusive

3. auto-complete interview after both of them come out (andrew gay, kevin bi, you understand) and they both use every opportunity to expose the hook-ups and crushes each other had while in college. results in a viral clip of the interviewer asking if kevin has daddy issues and andrew (tearfully, out of breath, clinging to life) saying “it depends on how you’re defining ‘issues’”

4. look okay i knowww i talk about Hear Me Out cake videos w the foxes but listen. Andrew puts down “the hypothetical feeling of scoring a goal from the goalie box” and kevin says “respectfully, if i saw you do that, i think i’d cum”

5. andrew impersonating kevin at any opportunity by doing a very bad irish accent until kevin eventually wrestles him to the ground and tells him to “apologise to ireland”

6. they do that bit from a Smosh livestream where, while the cameras are rolling but kevin hasn’t started their intro, andrew turns to him and says “just kiss me. kiss me, before we start recording. kevin. kevin, just kiss me.”

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I desperately need more fics exploring the fact that Clark was born and raised in the rural midwest, and Bruce was a Jersey rich boy.

Give me Clark taking his shoes off when entering a house, and bringing something to dinner

Give me Bruce being absolutely confused because "what the hell is a potluck"

Give me Clark doing a proper midwest goodbye and Bruce being confused why he hasn't left when he said he was going to go 30 minutes ago and their still talking

(Even better if when Clark first says he's going to go Kon and Jon make no move to leave because they know it's going to be a while)

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andrew minyard character of all time. he's toxic. he doesn't talk to cops. he has an identical twin brother and they hate each other. he made his identical twin brother promise not to have any other friends and then doesn't even talk to him. he might be a misogynist. his only friends are a born-again lesbian who can beat him up, the runaway son of a yakuza-affiliated serial killer, and his therapist. he's a student athlete. he hates sports. he killed his mother. he's a Mean Girl who runs his friend group like a cult. he's a crim major for the bit. he has an eidetic memory. he's petty. he likes to get people gifts. he does coke sometimes but says it doesn't have any effect on him because he has too many mental illnesses. he's the love interest. he doesn't smile. he was right about wwiii. y2k goth. repeatedly risks his life to help people in situations that have absolutely nothing to do with him and says it's out of boredom. when they picked him up from the psych ward he got in the driver's seat and blasted screamo the whole ride back and didn't say a single word to anyone. oh my god he is exactly five feet tall. he's even gay

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