#I'm going to strangle her

[witchcraftingboop]

Me after trying to explain for two days, on and off, that if you delete the first quarter's data, you cannot use the year's total value for an unrelated KPI to figure out what that value might have been: Y'all are draining me on a spiritual level... Where are the cameras? Bring them out! I'm ready!

[jahiera]

"Epler says players will see early on (and as the narrative develops across Veilguard) that Solas sees much of himself in you, the player-controlled Rook, especially "the parts that maybe he doesn't like to face." As a result, there's an interesting push and pull between Solas and Rook. He says players can define the relationship between these two characters with their choices in dialogue." (here)

game-sanctioned parallels between antagonist and protagonist. oh I'm sure I'll be normal about this

[goldkirk]

I DON'T HAVE TO LIE ANYMORE!

[horsechestnut]

Reading Batgirl 2000 is making me want to write a Dark Batman fic.

[pixxyofice]

'ohhh why didn't they give her a head implant' she's a fucking CHAI PARALLEL. you know what chai has. an implant in his chest. know what korsica obtained? implant in her chest

[landgraabbed]

be the shadowscale you want to see in the world

[caricature-of-a-witch]

you remember the presentation group I've been complaining about?

the presentation is tomorrow at like 10am (aka in 12h). these people still haven't finished their parts of the handout. L suggested we meet half an hour before the course starts tomorrow to still go over it all and has decided that's also early enough to actually upload the handout. our slides are a haphazard, not at all uniform, incoherent mess and I had to push around one of mine bc Z for some inexplicable reason inserted her part after my overview slide. R's part for some reason has nothing but quotes, half of which are from books from a publisher specialised on dictionaries. this is a gender studies course. i am going to do unspeakable things to all of them

[dawnthread]

that cosplay feel when you gaze long and hard at the toned body of an anime prettyboy (with sword)...

... to work out the construction of his goddamn turtleneck.

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

I don't understand why TLM 2 tried so hard to emphasize and clarify how much Ariel is like her mother in terms of personality when she is, in the movie, quite frankly, written to be more like Eric in character. She was really primarily introverted, shy, awkward, tomboyish, mild-mannered and more serious, which is more like her father. I guess it was her impulsive, curious, rebellious and reckless nature that made the characters in the movie go, "Ow, she is so like her mother!", but I don't know, whenever I see Melody, I see her as closer to her dad. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who sees it this way. I don't believe for one second that NO ONE in that universe was able to notice the similarities she had with her father. C'mon, she even has his doggone smile! 😂

[alethiometry]

i swear it's a special kind of hell to be trying to help plan things with someone who is chronically indecisive AND a chronic people-pleaser

[teratotherapist]

Dove Strider's gift to me, by the way, was delivered thus: The sound of the transportalizer flaring at around 6 in the morning. A prod at my foot as I slept supine, to hasten my awakening. Her, looming above me with her glasses reflecting all, yet the rest of her somehow lit in silhouette. A tiny upnod in greetings. Then a calamitous clatter of several alchemized fencing blades all rapid ejecting from her sylladex to bounce (harmlessly sheathed, mind) around the foot of my bed. A homemade greeting card fluttering into my bewildered lap, drawn on a printout of the Nine of Swords, but with... predictably deep fried, SBaHJian alterations. What I know was a wink from behind those stupid shades, and a sidelong hug, with a finger jabbing at the equally beleaguered bedbound person on the card - "You when you wake up with so many fuckin sords" she said audibly leaving out the W, "Happy birthday, sis." And then she ollied outie and left me to go back to sleep after dealing with so many fuckin sords.

The worst part? Despite the card she modified... There's ten swords.

[gunsandpatches]

you have no idea the damage you caused.

angst hours // Accepting @fxllenwilson

Oh, sweetie.

On some level she does. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that. The missteps she took for protection became a Damocles sword. Carving a piece from everyone, but most of all Grant. Taking his life along with pieces. That doesn't mean she'd ever really know the damage from Grant's perspective. The way he clammed up, honestly, who knew if anyone else would ever know really.

"I couldn't have known how it'd play out." It's not an apology. She shouldn't have the right to plead for an understanding, but the soft wish is there nonetheless. If she'd had the crystal ball then to know how they'd all crumble, everything would be different. None of them could fix it now.

For a second, her hand reaches out to try to pull him in. Bad idea. It drops. She doesn't want to set off another bolting off. You weren't always so scared.

"I never wanted either of you hurt."

[redrobin-detective]

lipstick on your cape

“Robbie?” Tabitha looked up from the phone she wasn’t supposed to have on patrol at Nightwing. Hopefully Peg wouldn’t tattle on her to Bruce. “You got a little something on your cape. I think it’s that dark red lipstick they can probably see from the Watchtower.”

Beth examined her cape and, sure enough, there were some mysterious red smudges on the inner yellow lining, just past the right shoulder. She scrubbed at it with her gloves, how’d that even get there? Alfred would have a fit if this stained. Peg grunted as she sat down next to Tab on the edge of the building.

“So, do you wanna talk about it?” Peg asked, deceptively casual.

“About what?” Beth questioned.

“About why you’ve been sporting colored lips the last week,” Peg said softly. “I mean it’s pretty and all but its very,“ she paused. “It’s grownup. Are you trying to impress someone? I know things with you and Arianna are over but maybe someone on your team?”

“No, it’s not like that!” Beth blushed. “I don’t know, I thought it looked nice?”

“You’re 15 baby girl,” Peg said with a little frown. “You don’t need to look nice, you just need to be yourself. Especially as Robin.”

“I am being myself. I don’t have a reason, okay! I just thought it would be fun. I don’t know, I like girly stuff I guess. Its a safety risk to wear fun earrings or necklaces on patrol so, I don’t know, the other day I put on some lipstick and thought it looked cute so I kept doing it.”

Her mother had been a tomboy, more at home in the dirt than society but Tabitha had always been impressed at how she could transform. The nights they were home, when they had to play the part of the Drakes, were special. Mom would do her hair, nails and make-up just so and become someone else. She went from Tab’s flighty, distracted but stubborn mom to a princess. Her smiles were calculated, her posture perfect and she could glide across a ballroom in six inch heels and a sleek dress like she was born for it. And she had been but she’d rejected it for her dad and archeology but mostly archeology.

Tabitha loved computers and skateboards and comics and cars but she’d spent so many hours learning to style her hair in different ways, to paint her nails like a pro and to layer her lipstick like she was ready for murder. It was a side she hadn’t indulged in much lately. Being Robin was it’s own sort of freedom but it had its restrictions as well.

“I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing,” Peg said thoughtfully, leaning back to look up at the moon. “I guess Jan and I set a bit of a precedent huh?” Robins were crime fighters. They laughed at criminals and fought against the worst of the worst. They were efficient, practical and inspiring. They didn’t wear lipstick. Beth brought a glove to cover her mouth.

“Sorry, I guess it’s not really appropriate, is it? I think I have some make up remover wipes in my belt.” Peg grabbed a hold of her wrist.

“No, no, keep it on,” Peg insisted. “It does look nice, you did a good job and it really compliments the red of your suit.” She shifted so they were holding hands. “My mom used to do me up in makeup before shows, so the audience could see our faces. I can still feel her fingertips running over my cheeks.” She said with a soft voice, eyes closed in memory. “Moving in with B, I couldn’t do makeup that extravagant. I had to make a good impression and then, as I got older, I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression from lipstick and eye shadow.” 

“It’s such a burden to be beautiful,” Tabitha said with an eye roll even though it kind of was. She saw the way people ogled Peg at events. Tab had tripped one particularly creepy guy right into the punch bowl. Bruce had given her a thumbs up across the hall.

“You’re not Jan, no one expects you to be,” Peg said softly. “We just want you to be yourself. That’s the beauty of being Robin, you get to be whoever you want to be.”

“And what about B?” Beth questioned.

“You introduced yourself by breaking B’s rules,” Peg said with a grin, breaking the hand hold to ruffle Tab’s hair. She angrily straightened her clip and re-fluffed her bangs. Just because Nightwing just had a simple ponytail doesn’t mean some vigilantes didn’t care about merging style and function. “I think you’ll be fine.”

“Hmm, okay,” Beth said, scooting over to lean on Peggy’s shoulder. She loved her mom, missed her a lot but having a big sister was pretty great too. “You could add a little color to your lips too if you want.”

“I think I’ll pass. I’ve seen the colors you wear, baby bird,” Peg chuckled.

“Well how about your hair?” Tab asked, sitting up. “I could teach you how to do a simple french braid, or more fancy if you’d like. Still be functional but adds a little bit of style.”

“Tomorrow, my place, my hands always cramp after too long using the grapples. I’ll order some of that disgusting pizza you like,” Peg grinned. Tabitha grinned, her lips a dark ruby red under the Gotham moonlight.

Robin didn’t do her make up every night. Some nights she was running late, finishing clipping on her cape as she ran to the Batmobile. Other times she was too tired, too pained, just not in the mood for such frivolities. But other nights, she sculpted her eyebrows with an eyebrow pencil. She rubbed primer, foundation, blush, sealant on her face that could hold up against wind, rain and rogues. She poured over her ever growing collection of lipsticks and lipstains and picked a color that spoke to her.

Red was for when she was feeling daring, bold, she had many different variations of the color but deliberately shied away from Joker red. When Spoiler took to the streets she acquired all sorts of different purples to complement the laughing boy’s costume. Pink was for when she felt soft but strong, when she was making a statement to the worst of Gotham that it couldn’t change her. Black was only to be used on the nights she knew would be bad. Bart got her a glittery gold one that she loved but used sparingly because it caught the light easily. Peg had laughed when when Tab shown up once with Nightwing blue lips, her braided hair dancing in the breeze.

She was Robin, she was a hero, a role model, a symbol. But she was also a girl, a girl who loved dresses that flared out when she spun and lots of shiny, sparkly dangles and doodads and she loved the taste of matte lipstick as she jumped into the fight. Sometimes people were just a pile of different things all mushed together. And the rest of the world was going to just have to get over it.

[mynameisbillandimaheadcase]

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[daisywords]

weeping wailing and gnashing of teeth