#I REALLY DON'T WANT MY BABIES TO DIE

[cluescorner]

I gave myself a writing challenge and I am fascinated by it

So basically I put the robins in a randomizer to give them a new order/role (because I just...kinda wanted to see what would happen + I like role-reversal AUs) and got results that are giving me a fucking brain blast.

Stephanie, the first sidekick who defines the role

Tim, the sidekick who dies and comes back wrong

Dick, the sidekick who saves Batman from himself

Damian, the sidekick who was never supposed to be a sidekick but would go on to prove everyone wrong

Jason, the youngest sidekick who is still the Kid Wonder

...So this is fucking wild. I've got some ideas and several of these fit perfectly (Dick's role is pretty similar to his one in canon), but some of these are fucking INCREDIBLE to explore (Steph being the first Robin is something I never even considered but tbh I kinda love it).

I probably won't write a fic or anything because tbh I don't like publishing my writing that much, but I might expand this into a full AU and post about it. I might randomize other stuff too (ie, stuff that I cannot change vs stuff that I cannot keep the same) but this fucking rules as a starting point.

[sysig]

Finally made a Parapluesch OC, introducing Mama Oz ♥ (Patreon)

[tenwhiteandalusians]

and then no one said anything about the fact that if i watched ONE MORE episode tenax pulls a "i'm not angry i'm just disappointed i'm hurt" about scorpus signing with the white faction.

[pa-pa-plasma]

i don't think i'll ever get over how people treat kids that aren't good in school as worthless no matter what. "oh it can't be that bad" my guy idk how to tell you this but the last time i went to a normal high school the principal called me into his office to brag about how he failed me in all of my classes before the semester was even finished & i should quit while i'm ahead cuz i'm too stupid ("officially" diagnosed as such by a school counselor & a psychiatrist!!) to succeed. & this is considered normal

[dirtytransmasc]

I can't put it into words, I have tried many times and failed, but the relationship between theon and asha means everything and more to me.

[waterloo-to-anywhere]

“well since i listened to Death on the Stairs naturally i gotta listen to New Love Grows on Trees and if i listen to NLGOT i HAVE to listen to Gin&Milk which means i should probably listen to Shiver (demo) which will bring me BACK to NLGOT which'll take me to Deadwood and if I listen to Deadwood I also need to listen to Heartt of the Matter and and”

[nic0-r0bs]

Ok, hear me out.

Anti-Shinigami makeup like the one you make for anti-AI face recognition. So they won't be able to read your name.

So I might be doing research to write a sequel of my Death Note fanfiction November 8th 1997

("But Robs, you haven't even finished the third book in Italian and you still have to translate the second into English, and then you have the Prequ-" "SHUT UP!!!")

The sequel would be about "What happens after an Apocalypse has come and gone"

Everyone knows about paranormal entities, religious institutions have crumbled, academic world has gone crazy, no morals, civil wars yada yada.

But what's important is that there's, like, feud wars between different classes of demons and someone has to do something.

And how can you protect yourself from Shinigamis?

Anti-AI recognition make-up.

Or better.

Tattoos.

Maybe even something cool like invisible ink or glowing in the dark, idk.

I'm literally like this atm

Ok, no, maybe this one should be Q.

OK I'M GOING TO DRAW Q BLABBERING ABOUT ALGORITHMS AGAIN.

I love my babies the Wammy's Homies ❤️

Edit: oh, I gave J smaller ears, my bad.

Anyway, here's a one shot (actually a chapter from part 3 of November fanfiction) with my OCs.

[usagifuyusummer]

Vent sketches of studying in uni.

I'll be back once I finish a lot of stuff this semester. Just, very stressed out lately. I'm going back to studying for my exams after this... Probably gonna fail... I'll just do what I can. Hope everyone out there has a good time than myself.

[justabunchofdragons]

what do you MEAN my auntie is anti vax 😭 TWO of her brothers are doctors. another is a pharmacist!!!!!. HOW do you get to that conclusion ??????!!!!!

[infectedzoology]

tag dump

🔬 // musings // all girls wanna be like that ; bad girls underneath like that 🔬 // about // been through some bad shit ; who would have thought it'd turn me to a savage ? 🔬 // memes // you cling to your papers and pens ; wait until you like me again 🔬 // open // i've been here all night ; i've been here all day 🔬 // music / playlist // i'm just trying give you something to remember through the summertime 🔬 // likes / aesthetic // because tonight i'm making deals with the devil ; and i know it's gonna get me in trouble 🔬 // visage // i only wanna die alive ; never by hands of a broken heart 🔬 // starter call // right now ; i'm in a state of mind i wanna be in like all the time 🔬 // ooc // don't kick that trash can over ; it'll make a mess 🔬 // ic // i don't wanna hear you lie tonight ; now that i've become who i really am 🔬 // psa // one last time ; i need to be the one who takes you home 🔬 // writing // nothing to prove and i'm bulletproof and know what i'm doing 🔬 // wishlist // feel my blood runnin' ; swear the sky's fallin' ; i know that all this shit's fabricated 🔬 // promo // you could hold moonlight in your hands 🔬 // self promo // i don't wanna tiptoe but i don't wanna hide ; but i don't wanna feed this monstrous fire 🔬 // wardrobe // a little bit dangerous ; but baby that's how i want it 🔬 // abilities // when all is said and done ; you'll believe god is a woman

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

i'm so wrong for writing allllllll of BODY BACK & then make the last chapter abt harrison's daddy issues

The last memory Harrison has of his father is blurry, a moment shaken like a snow globe. He could’ve been nine. He could’ve been fifteen. But he’s sitting on the curb of his childhood home—a mid-century bungalow on the corner lot. His nose is bleeding. He’s not sure why. Sun glazes the neighbourhood and he’s there, legs outstretched on the resealed driveway, holding a palm to his upper lip. His dad mows the grass behind him, but it’s been so long that he can’t see his face, or maybe it’s too vague to process as he weaves between the lawn’s birch trees. A neighbour blasts the radio up the road—Mariah, maybe Oasis. His father waves at a passing woman. Her hair is redder than Suz’s, her crow’s feet sharper, like knives. She delivers the neighbourhood’s papers. Sandra? Kristen? She lives three houses up, gives out full-sized Kit-Kats on Halloween. Nice weather, she might say—all he remembers is her smile. Every single tooth visible and narrow like rosary beads. Blood drips into his mouth. He’s not sure where to find tissues. He should get up now. Wash his hands. Run north. Find his mother. His father turns off the mower, leans on the handle. Want to come inside for lemonade? he might ask, fingering his shirt collar, the line from his wedding band long tanned over. Whether the woman says yes or no doesn’t matter. The moment she rounds the sidewalk, she spots Harrison and is so startled she clutches her chest and breathless, asks, “Is that a ghost?”

opening paragraph of ch. 5!

[elliesbelle]

lol

[hunters-angel]

please keep your cats indoors

[gu6chan]

im thinking about that stupid twink elf again and crying and throwing up

drawing some hot fanart of leonard tho (soon to be revealed..........) so it's okay :)))) (<- liar) good night

[bitchdafuqyousay]

do you think Mary was sad? when her son was born do you think she looked at his perfect, innocent face and felt grief for him? sadness for the role he had been given from before he was even a proper thought in the minds of his earthly parents? did she cry tears of elation at his first steps n did they turn to ones of grief cause that milestone, those tiny little baby steps on delicate feet meant he was getting older, his unshakable fate growing closer n those little feet were marching towards it so steadily. I wonder if she remembered those small, shaky first steps when she saw the soldiers march her son up the hill, with the crucifix weighing down his whole body, rendering his so practiced stride- the steps of a man- to shaky hobbles. I wonder if all she saw when he walked to his death was her tiny little baby, stutter-stepping like he'd done so many years ago across the floor of their home. do you think Mary was sad from the moment her boy was born?

[casualnepotism]

It is a strange thing, for a fighter to be so full of words. Having known a fuck ton of them, they’re usually either too quick-witted or too damaged to have any. But I have so many.

Chock full, some would say. I’ve stored them up for years, months, weeks, days. Hours. All the moments it was expected to say them, I missed. All the moments it wasn’t, I seemed to grasp onto and yet- still- they remain. Even when I manage to get them out of me, they’re the wrong ones: excess that built up over time and spilled out before I could fix them into what they were supposed to be. Cataloging the moments where I could have. Should have. Said anything at all and I couldn’t.

When Maelo said he had it, When Wol decided to leave, When Cog tore out her heart, When Clay made his choice, When Nilos first floated joining the board, When Adiane leaned into her godhood, When Cog destroyed the church, When I killed Wol, When Jack killed Dennis, When Jack died, Again, again, again, When Nilos did leave to join the board,

So many times I’ve written speeches in my head to match you all, discarding them back down to where they could live safely. Knowing they could never match what any of you say without even thinking about it. Knowing that none of your goals align to my own, not really. I kept thinking the time would come, the stars would align, the world would sit still long enough for me to explain. Long enough that you would have time to listen and parse my plodding inanities to hear the point that I hide.

Clumsily. Easily visible to anyone listening, I know. I am not skilled in words the way y’all are, so I have to assume you choose not to hear, and I understand. In your shoes, in the end, given the selfishness of what I ask, I would make the same choice.

My words will never match the ones you all spill forth so easily, handing them to the rest of us like they’re grains of sand and not precious gifts to be hoarded and turned, over and over, until they lose definition with love. Not the ones I hand over, not the ones I hide and perfect, and perfect again and again and again.

I supplement instead with what I can give: a hand, a shoulder, a punching bag, a presence, a whetstone, a shield, a pillow. All of my words, folded and compressed, and shaved of their edges until they can be handed away in a bomb that you will never recognize.

Not a bomb, perhaps. You see? Even now, my words cannot compare.

Allow me to rephrase.

We all know what a milkshake is. We could easily describe it. But there is so much more, for us, held inside the word that we could never describe. For me, anyway.

I hope that you have always understood my actions for what they are. A milkshake for the words I was never able to say. I hope you know that I would never you are so I have never I could never if you were to s I hope you know it’s a milkshake for only one word, really, that you can and should interpret in all its forms.

Stay.