#BUT! this has convinced me to do so

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[jinxnvi]

1.01 / 2.09

+

[charlietheepicwriter7]

De-Aged Danny, gesturing to a dazed Bruce inside Wayne Manor: And this is Bruce! Otherwise known as the Himbo! Reporters: Hmm, yes, interesting... Bruce: What the- Danny: I'm not sure what that word means. I heard it from Dick, but no one will give me my answer, not even Jason, who is easily bribed. Bruce: Why are there reporters in my house!? Danny, innocent and childlike: They asked to come inside, Bruce! They seemed like really nice people, so I thought it'd be polite to give them a tour. Bruce, filled with infinite patience: I really wish you had asked me before you did that, chum. Danny: But why? We don't have anything to hide... do we, Bruce?

Or, in order to rise to the Ghost Throne, Danny has to complete a series of trials to prove he is capable of ruling (or any other reason, Danny just needs to do trials to prove himself).

The last trial, issued by Clockwork, is thus: discover the Wayne Family secret in two weeks without the use of any of his powers.

He has one shapeshift to pick a form that could endere him to the Waynes, but only one before he starts and he has to get close to the family by his own wits. Danny, after studying the family and reading of one sentence summary of each Wayne, picks the body of a six-year-old little boy that looked like a child Jason Todd.

Bruce: That child is up to something. Dick, third favorite: I don't know, Bruce; he acts like a normal kid. Jason, #1 favorite: I doubt the old man's ever met a normal kid. Tim, least favorite: Bruce is right, but can you please not talk like the villains from Chicken Run.

[novelconcepts]

Keep seeing people confused by Agatha letting the world believe she traded her son instead of telling the truth, but…kinda tracks, tbh. Not for the rational mind, of course. Not if you’re looking at it clearly.

Which Agatha isn’t.

She did the worst thing, in her mind. She fell asleep. She fell asleep, knowing Death had bookmarked her son for later, and when she woke, found him snatched out from under her. She failed him as his mother. She let go. And all the power in all the world wouldn’t be enough to bring him back.

So does the wildly grieving woman who has just lost her only child (to presumably her greatest love, but that’s a city-sized suitcase for another day) let herself go through the process of coping with and adapting to that grief? Fuck no! What is she, common?? She goes on a power bender! Even though the kid she prized in her heart of hearts seemed less than into that very thing! Even though that kid may have been able, given enough time, to convince her to stop! So now, not only did she fail him, but she also opted to speed race down Murder Road! For power! That she still won’t ever be able to use to get him back!

It gets muddled, after decades and centuries of this feeling. It grows teeth. In a way, she did trade him for power. In a way, she’ll always have that sitting on her chest. Never mind that it’s not true. Never mind that she wasn’t a bad mother at all (in this respect, anyway). Never mind that he was sick, and this was always coming. For Agatha, who has been stewing on this story she’s been telling herself for centuries, it is what happened. She traded her son. She did the unforgivable. She fell asleep.

[vintage-bentley]

I do not feel comfortable being openly homosexual in the company of “queer” people. Even hinting that I experience absolutely no attraction to the male sex is stressful, because often this results in a bunch of questions that equally feel like bafflement and interrogation. “What about THESE men?” No, not them either. No men. “But this man identifies as a woman!” I am not wired to be attracted to pronouns. “What about this man? He’s femme!” He is still a man, and I am still a lesbian. “So just no men at all?” YES. What is so hard to understand about that? Why can’t you just accept that female homosexuality exists, that it isn’t an evil ideology, and that it’s just how I and many other women are born? Why can you accept and understand so many things, but draw the line at a woman having no interest in the male sex?

[u3pxx]

KIM KITSURAGI - “Is that. My kineema.”

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Something in him is about to break, *big time*.

EMPATHY - And it’s not going to be pretty, do something!

- DRAMA [Formidable] - Everything is fine!

- “Sure is.”

DRAMA [Formidable: Failure] - Surely he’s aware that he’s not the *only* person in the world who owns a Kineema?

YOU - “Is it really *yours*? I mean, plenty of people have their own Kineemas, right? Like working men, government offices, uh, firefighters I guess, maybe even animal control people? Exactly! A million different people who could’ve driven it into the uh…”

DRAMA - Pause, my liege! Ixnay on the Ineemakay!

YOU - “It could even be our *mysterious* joyrider!”

KIM KITSURAGI - Your frenzied babbling falls deaf to the lieutenant's ears. Instead, he approaches the broken vehicle, sunken in the ice. He moves with a caution and gentleness you haven’t seen him display before.

INLAND EMPIRE - It must be cold and lonely down there, in the icy water. Maybe he could sense its sorrow, calling to him…

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] - His hands, which are always stiffly placed behind his back, are trembling.

ENDURANCE - This is the shuffle of a tired, tired man.

HALF LIGHT - He’s going to do something drastic because of you. Oh god, terrible! You’re a terrible liar! You can’t look at this, you just can’t!

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] - It's not *you* who drove his kineema into the sea. You have plenty of faults, but this one is decidedly not yours.

KIM KITSURAGI - He kneels down with his head bowed, casting his face in shadow. He plants a hand on the ice to stabilize himself, squinting to get a better view of the motor carriage. “Detective, it says ‘57’ on it.”

YOU - Sweat drips down your brow, and you feel a terrible headache coming. “Maybe our joyrider has an affinity for that number?”

LOGIC - He's not stupid, he knows that it's not that.

KIM KITSURAGI - “57.”

YOU - “What about 57?”, you brace yourself.

KIM KITSURAGI - “Precinct 57.”

YOU - You wince. “Kim, look-”

KIM KITSURAGI - “When I woke up in the Whirling-in-Rags with no memory of what happened during the days before, I've taken note that something of mine has gone missing.” He grits his teeth. "A very. Important. Something."

He runs his hands over his face, messing his already unkempt hair in the process. Regret creeps up on his features. “God. Fuck. They’re going to fire me over this, they’re not going to hear me out.”

EMPATHY - Desperation settles in the lieutenant's tone. Sadly, you find yourself in agreement, even if you don’t want it to be the truth.

YOU - “People are more valuable than machines, Kim.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “Not people like me.” He rasps.

YOU - “…”

KIM KITSURAGI - Before you can say anything more, you fail to notice the lieutenant carefully walking onto the edge of the ice. He looks over the frigid water, a dizzying blue that mirrors and distorts his exhausted face back to him.

YOU - “Kim?”

KIM KITSURAGI - Seconds pass as he looks to be contemplating something. Out of nowhere, he casually takes another step where the ice ends and the sea begins. It happens all too quick for the lieutenant to even voice a call for help— if he even wanted to — his body plunging into the cold water before your eyes.

YOU - “KIM!!!!”

uhhh bonus stuff? sorry i have swap au brainworms pfttt

(im not sure what skills kim has at the moment so rn he only has narration as his inner monologue ok whoops, i would like to keep harry as the guy who thinks in dialogue trees so im still figuring it out pfttt)

also, this was done bc i wanted to expand on these old scribbles of mine, just like an idea, i just think that he'd be having an even worse time wheezes

[otaku553]

New blorbo :)

Also a silly interaction with this piece

[trauma-bot]

sin eater

[shopwitchvamp]

An interesting observation I need to report to you all from when I was out touching grass last month (hiking/camping): People in the real world seem to consistently react to me saying that tumblr is my primary social media by going "Isn't that a dating app????"

[padmestrilogy]

^ rare clip of a youtuber talking about the acolyte worth unmuting

[fluentisonus]

working in a factory has you thinking so much about the insane chain of labor & transport that goes into making literally anything

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Ok, Riddle fans, I am starting to understand.

As I go through more of Riddle's Vignette's and the story, seeing him actually interacting with his house and people outside of it, I get it. He's intimidating and intense, absolutely, and he doesn't always understand why things like social media and trends or parties are important to say Cater or Ace.

But he tries. He learned how Cater memorized and learned and changed his studying style in order to help him. Downloaded a whole app, made posts that would make no sense to anyone else and weird tags, just to help him, spending even more additional time and energy after creating a 300 page study guide.

He continually steps in to encourage and guide Deuce and generally doesn't seem to know or care about his past delinquency, only what he does now as an NRC student. Even the conversations with Ace which tend to go sideways or chiding, seem like they are simply almost too much alike, just different values and priorities.

Yes, the other students are intimidated by Riddle. But as I dive in more, especially after his Overblot, it's because he holds others to the same standards as himself for better or for worse. Does he recognize the privilege of receiving so much education on magic and other subjects so early? I'm not sure. But he looks at his students and asks why not. Why can't they pass, why are the struggling, how do I get them there. Like, this fixation of nobody dropping out or flunking tells me that it happens a lot, maybe the most in Heartslabyul? But Riddle is making his legacy at NRC that he's graduating at the top and every one of his house is coming with him. He genuinely believes in his people and that they will be the best, most cohesive and talented dorm because they worked together, he just has a different approach to it after his holier than thou attitude was knocked out of him after his Overblot.

Malleus was right. King of Heartslabyul, absolutely.

[maelancoli]

i'm kind of late to this but i just finished reading the scholomance trilogy by naomi novik and i feel like it is such an underrated urban fantasy?? taking the chosen one trope and turning it on its head with a fmc who has been prophesied to bring death and destruction, who is imbued with terrible power, but cannot even properly use said power to solve any of her obstacles because it would obliterate them and her soul. it takes a tired trope and the idea of an 'overpowered mary sue' and throws it back in your face by showing how all the power and destiny in the world is useless against a system filled with corruption that has burdened you with an easy way out (evil/destructive magic) that you can't take so now you have to work twice as hard as everyone else just to do simple, constructive spells instead of flicking your wrist and being done with it.

[kurah]

"you drive me NUTS, Touden!!"

referenced from this new girl scene

[piratefalls]

i deeply hate the idea that buck would just not think to give his boyfriend something for their anniversary, so imagine for a second that buck didn't necessarily forget to get tommy something, he just thought too far ahead and got him a christmas gift instead.

because even before his conversation with josh, buck had thought about the future and seen tommy there with him. he saw tommy sat next to him at maddie and chim's table at thanksgiving with their family, plates full of food bobby insisted on cooking, sharing what they’re all thankful for. imagined tommy’s big, warm hand on his thigh as they dozed on the couch. that he'd had visions of a perfect christmas season together. imagined tommy in his sweatpants wrapping garland around the banister in the loft; the way they would have kissed under the mistletoe buck would have hung from every door frame just so he could feel tommy's lips against his again and again; murmuring i love yous and slow dancing in the warm light of the tree they'd picked out together. of waking up wrapped around each other on christmas morning, tommy's nose buried in the curve of his neck. he'd imagined it being their first of many.

but he'd been so excited about the future that he hadn't considered that maybe they weren’t on the same page. he hadn’t anticipated the way tommy's smile got smaller as buck went on and on that night, the light in his eyes dimming as buck talked about how much he admired tommy, the way tommy looked like he was breaking his own heart when he told buck that he was his first, not his last. that for all he'd imagined different scenarios in which they said those three words, he'd never actually said them. and then tommy had walked out, taking the way evan sounded rolling off his tongue with him.

and now instead of planning out a perfect holiday, buck, surrounded by the detritus of yet another round of baking, is staring at a box holding the custom ornament he'd ordered a month ago. with no tree to hang it on and no boyfriend to gift it to, he goes ahead and takes it out. the glass is delicate, with holly leaves etched around the top. the bottom is stained a perfect ocean blue, tommy and evan's first christmas in looping white text, breaking the flow of the painted waves. but the most important part, the one thing he'd insisted on, was the small crystal helicopter hanging inside. he loves it, and he thinks tommy would too. buck wonders if it would seem desperate to try to give it to him now, or if it would hurt more to keep it and pretend it isn't there. staring at it isn't helping him decide what to do.

what he does know right now is that he needs sleep. he sighs as he puts the ornament back in its box. he goes to bed hoping the morning will bring an answer.

[mrmanbat]

In honor of me officially becoming old and gen beta being born in about a month, you get to get my brainrot Batman headcannons.

Tim- I have the least hope for Tim. He’s worse than me. I like to think he’d be at a WE meeting and would accidentally say something like “L- get radioed” without even noticing.

Steph- doesn’t hold back. She says “chat” so often that Jason has started to think she’s talking to her imaginary friend “Chat.” She’s almost as bad as Tim but is able to hold back in professional settings.

Duke- is aware of it- uses it very sparingly unless Tim and/or Steph are making fun of someone, at that point he joins and will shred someone *cough* Jason *cough* to shreds.

Damian- finds it annoying and dumb most of the time HOWEVER I can totally see him using gen-z slang, especially in school. I can also see him taking a shit on the riddler by calling him the anti rizzler.

Cass- only uses it on criminals she’s already detained. Especially if she did without making a noise. She finds it hilarious when a criminal gets taken down in less then five seconds by a black blur with faint Chappell Roan music in the background only for the the black form to whisper “queen never cry” before disappearing again.

Jason- has no clue what it is or why his siblings are yelling “you’ve gyatt to go” and “- 10 aura” across roof tops whenever they see him on patrol.