#Scanner's not a good person

[dykedvonte]

I have this sick idea in my head that Jimmy and Curly have brought up the hypothetical situation about a mutiny and if they’d have the heart to shoot each other.

And I believe that Curly would say he’d never use the gun and if he absolutely had to he’d turn it on himself because, obviously, if even Jimmy is against him, he must’ve fucked up royally. It’s sweet and he’s raw with it, talking about how much he values being a good Captain and what it/Jimmy mean to him and how the gun is never something he considers, hence why he doesn’t even know the code (likely required if the code scanner is tampered with but he’d make the risky choice) and it leaves Jimmy a bit speechless. He wouldn’t answer for himself until Curly asks, teasing like he’s expecting something equally as sappy and sentimental but Jimmy just says he would.

Right between the eyes. No hesitation. Quick and easy to get it over with. He’s having fun with it, it’s crass and cold and he doesn’t even realize Curly didn’t even let out his usual awkward laugh when Jimmy talks like that. No placating smile, just a sort of dejected and surprised look. The formations of an epiphany. And Jimmy can see how off put Curly is and the hurt and he says he’s just joking. The cockpit is quite after that but Jimmy doesn’t care and things go by as usual despite it. Curly’s talking to him the next time they meet and all is well. He forgets about it.

But I think it sticks with Curly for a long time and he tries hard to brush it off as just another off kilter thing Jimmy would say. That in the moment, Jimmy wouldn’t or he’d try not to or he’d at the very least hesitate. He’d settle for just apologizing before pulling the trigger.

But in the back of his mind he knows theirs a subtle truth to those words.

[wuntrum]

i think if we all hold hands and believe hard enough we can explode every student loan collector with our minds

[ainawgsd]

I made the mistake about thinking about the staffing situation at work this morning

[rustedleopard]

Behold, the Father of All Monsters, Retainer of the Primordial Sea, Master of All Beings that Walk, Swim, or Flap, Keeper of the Netherworld, Scourge of Humankind, Ultimate Danger Noodle, the Great and Venerable It: Kur!

Fan art for @rhythmantics fic, It Will Not Obey You, which is absolutely amazing and fabulous and owns my whole soul! If you are familiar with The Secret Saturdays, please go read it.

[leadendeath]

fellow adhd people (or people who get extremely excited about something for other ND reasons, i'm gonna let u in too for this one):

what do YOU call it when you're vibrating with enthusiasm/love for something/thinking rlly hard about stuff that makes u extreme happy and u gotta wiggle about it?

there is electricity inside ur body and u need to scream on the internet about it or smth or u will be overcharged battery explosion &fire ????? this u when:

i could call it ecstatic. that does not quite cover it. there is so much energy. too much for one word.

[taliaxlatiart]

Broke out the prismacolors for the first time in 5 years for this. Prodigal III fit sweep

[crayolacolor]

by the way, when i say my printer/scanner "decided to die", what i actually mean is it was intentionally made obsolete.

they aren't making drivers for it anymore, so now it's no longer compatible with my computer. mechanically, it should still work fine.

needless to say i'm infuriated about this

[spiltcandycoatedpunkblood]

you can probably tell what this image and taglines with absolutely no other context for a long damn time on one of those small CD newspaper inserts did to hypersensitive lil ol' me and my mind seeing this at a family friend's house upstairs with the two guys out of the three siblings in their bedroom playing video games probs about a decade and a half ago

so since i ordered this poster and the DVD, i'm setting this new legacy in motion. sometimes the little things in our past actually turn out to mean something much later down the line. i genuinely feel so proud, but damn, did that no contextual image and wording scar me before i was even a teenager

[coolcoelacanth]

only one more week at this stupid retail pharmacy rotation then im free 😍😍

[stealchain]

need to make a list with links to all my old das ive made throughout the years so i can just go to them when i want lajsf

[narutosfrogwallet]

2024 is the year i get back into film photography and develop my own film. mark my words

[dykedvonte]

I like to think in the P.E au that Anya and Curly specifically get haunted hard by Jimmy's weird reality crossing guilt manifested.

It's targeting them because Jimmy's guilt grows more around them. The idea of him acting and playing nice despite what he did. It's like a buffet that allows it to pick from their plates.

Anya sees this stagnant version of her, blood from her mouth, clutching her stomach with a bottle of pills in her other hand. She's talking about not being heard, a pixel, relief from a burden. She tries to ask a question and it's never the right one. She's not understanding but in a way, she's getting that this version of her is in pain. She tries to help, extends a hand and asks how she can help, stop it. She stares and there's utter despair and disappointment in her eyes.

What did you do?

Curly sees this burnt mangled thing. But he can't call it that. Even with no skin and chipping teeth, covered in sullied bandages and smelling of death overdue, he can see his face. He can recognized that eye, he stares at it a lot in the mirror, usually a second one is attached but he digresses. They are just watching, staring and unmoving. He asks himself what happened, how can he help and his own retched mangled voice comes out from a empty maw.

I told you.

They have no idea what it really means. They don't know who to tell. Flashes of a life they don't know or maybe a future they haven't lived yet. Perhaps they treat it as their own minds trying to tell them something. They bare that burden themselves and that alone makes it heavier. Plumper. More appetizing to the guilt causing it.

Tragically that guilt is not their own.

[foldingfittedsheets]

A few years ago my dad got hit by a car. He was on his bike when a van merged into him and smashed him up pretty good. I found out because he posted it on Facebook, along with a comment that he’d just walk home.

I have a long history of haranguing my father about his health but this really took the cake. I called him to insist he get a ride home and go to urgent care. I was summarily ignored and once shock wore off he was in a lot of pain.

He had a cracked pelvis, fractured fingers, and a dozen scrapes and bruises. Over the course of his legal battle to get his medical shit covered there’s been several small battles. The first was his cane.

He refused to use it for ages. The physical therapist insisted he should but he stubbornly repeated, “I’m strong enough!” It took months for him to give in and walk with it, but he eventually thanked me as it makes his life easier.

The current fight is getting him a handicapped placard. He’s finally admitted after a year that he needs one but still hasn’t done it.

So we recently went to pick up my nephew from the airport and I was like my dads assigned disability advocate. We got to pass through security to meet my nephew at the gate but my dad tried to put his cane up on the conveyor and I grabbed it right back, loudly addressing TSA to ask if he really needed to scan that. The guy said he supposed not, the agent could check it out at the scanner.

Then as we were refilling our pockets and getting belts back on a TSA agent was chiding us for holding up the line. I snapped back, "My dad is disabled, he needs a minute." She glanced at him and reluctantly backed off while he slowly got all this belongings back on his person.

We had to take a train to my nephews gate. It was pretty full and a lady who'd gotten on before us plopped into one of the only handicapped seats. "Excuse me," I said as we got on, "Can my dad please use that?" She clocked his cane and moved without apology and my dad gratefully sat down.

At no point in any of those stages was he prepared to advocate for his own needs, he just decided suffering was the only recourse. I wish the world were softer, and I wish he didn't just accept hardship but I definitely know where I got it from.

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[keefechambers]

I wanna be blunt about this ongoing James somerton suicide threat issue but I don't want to connect it to my IRL Twitter to comment on the dogshit takes I'm seeing there or the good and well meaning but maybe too kind takes I'm seeing here.

Obviously, I hope that this is a false alarm cry for help fake threat. Yes, it would reinforce that Somerton is a self-centered egomaniac who can't handle consequences but that's preferable to dead.

But I work in local news and let me tell you something. I've covered half a dozen family annihilating murder suicides and heard hundreds of men making suicide threats over police scanners and a huge swath of these don't happen because they're depressed or because people are mean to them on the Internet. They're punishment. A person with an enormous amount of entitlement towards people around them gets backed into a corner and they punish the people closest to them by killing themselves or threatening to kill themselves.

No one wants to talk about this feature of suicide because...you want to help people who are struggling and guide them away from this path and being blunt about the fact that sometimes people die of suicide as a consequence of their own shittiness towards the world does not really help actively suicidal people. But suicide rates are higher in men not just because they have higher rates of untreated mental illness (a societal issue we must address for the sake of all) but because some people, often men, use suicide (but more often the threat of suicide) as a tool of abuse and control.

I'm not saying somerton is like, an icky abuser bad guy, he's just a run of the mill grifter scumbag, but his actions in the past show a clear pattern of escalating behavior that aligns with this.

Somerton gets called out -> somerton alleges physical threats of violence against himself and his fans rally around him supportively -> Harry calls somerton out in a bigger way -> Somerton says he's hospitalized but there are inconsistencies with the story but no one wants to talk about that because you wanna be nice-ish about a guy who just tried to kill himself and now he's trying to be framed as tragic but it doesn't really stick -> somerton apologizes again but his apology is rightly called out for lies and manipulative framing as well as his continuing attempts to profit off the community he betrayed -> James posts a suicide note publicly putting the onus of his own suicide on the loss of his friend Nick who he repeatedly threw under the bus and now everyone is rallying to say nice-ish shit and wring their hands in concern over poor james -> indefinitely repeat this vicious cycle forever until he actually does die or finally gives up and gets real, intensive therapy and a day job.

Thats not to say anyone's concern is misplaced, it's 100% better for him to be a living scumbag than a dead one. He deserves the chance to grow and learn and have a life outside of youtube.

But you don't have to portray this as the action of a sad depressed man who got bullied off the Internet. It's manipulation, whether he intended to go through with it or not and whether someone intervened or not. Not denying that internet bullying is a thing, I'm sure there were some people who were shitty directly to James but he made the choice to not unplug from this and to try and keep being a public figure rather than taking care of himself. He could have deleted Twitter, blocked anyone who was an asshole, gone to therapy and tried to move on with his life but if he'd deleted his channel he'd have lost monetization... Can't have that, right? So he posts some apology videos so his channel stays active and then complains about how ruinous this is while never trying to take real accountability.

But the reality is that people would have forgotten about him so quickly and maybe his job prospects would've been impacted but...that's on him, and that's for him to figure out but it's not actually life ruining. He chose to continue to engage knowing he'd get backlash and hate and he'd feel worse and worse and things would never get better without the time and space for people to forget.

He made the choice to make a public spectacle of his own alleged suicide. That is the action of someone who wants to put the weight of their suicide on someone else's shoulders and is morally wrong. He can be held to account for that, alive or dead.

[wonderjanga]

League Money

So, like in this AU, every leaguer gets like this little allowance from Batman for stuff they need as superheroes. Now, Billy’s never used the fund, as Marvel doesn’t really need food, or water, or anything like that. He’s never thought to use it for himself because “that’d be wrong”. But one day:

Marvel: “Flash, how was your day?” Flash: “It was good. I got some groceries with the trust fund Spooky gave us.”

Marvel: “Wait what? You can do that?” *whispering like this is some dirty secret*

Flash: “Uh… Yeah? Hal used it last week to get hair gel. Bats never said anything, so I’m pretty sure it’s fine.”

Marvel: “Oh.” *remembers the many winters he nearly starved to death in* “Okay.”

Later…

*Marvel now back as Billy, is arm deep, rummaging through his pocket dimension*

Billy: *grabs onto something* “There you are!” *pulls out shiny credit card and looks at it in awe*

This single credit card held his league money.

Billy: *looks over to his little stash of food. Rats had eaten it all recently. Looks back to the card* “This is a bad idea.” *stands up and starts heading to his door, shoving the card in his pocket* “This a really bad idea.”

*Billy walks to the grocery store and enters, ignoring the concerned look from the cashier wondering why a little kid came into the store alone*

Billy: *grabs a cart and grabs a bunch of nonperishables, all with a guilty look cause he feels bad about spending the money on himself. Rolls up to the cashier*

Cashier: “Uh… Hey, little guy.” *little wave* “Is your dad nearby?” *looks around for literally any parental figure*

Billy: “Yeah, he’s outside.” *still looks guilty*

Cashier: “Oh, okay.” *still looks a little concerned but starts scanning items* “Is your school doing a canned food drive?” *eyes the various cans as they scan them*

Billy: “Uh… Yes.” *takes out the credit card and hands it to the cashier because he’s too short to reach the scanner without standing on his tip toes*

Cashier: *scans the card for him* “It declined.”

Billy: “What? Can you try again?” *does not want to inconvenience this poor cashier by making them put all the cans away*

Cashier: *Swipes the card again and it once again declines* (Marvel needs to be the one to swipe it, the average Joe, including Billy, can’t cause Batman did some freaky stuff and made it so that only the person the card belongs to can make it work. Billy didn’t know.) “It declined again. Why don’t you go get your dad or mom? I’ll hold your stuff.”

Other customers in line: *groans of annoyance*

Billy: “I’ll try!” *Runs out of store panicking. Runs to an alley and shazams into Marvel*

Marvel: *still panicking, whips out a spell that changes his suit into civvies. Runs back as fast as a normal human can. Enters store and speed walks as calmly as he can back to cashier* “Sorry. My- uh son told me the card wasn’t working?”

Cashier: *jaw drops when they see Captain Marvel walk through the door in normal clothes*

Other customers in line: *jaws also drop*

Marvel: “Uhm… My card?” *holds hand out for it*

Cashier: *uses one hand to close jaw back up and with the other hand, gives the card to Marvel* “Right. It declined a couple times.”

Marvel: “Really?” *swipes it and it accepts* (Billy was jumping in joy inside) “Would you look at that? Must’ve been a fluke.”

Cashier: *still a little speechless at Captain Marvel being in front of him in civilian clothes. Also that little kid was the Captain’s kid?* “Sorry.”

Marvel: “For what? I doubt it was your fault.” *walks over to grab the bags of cans* “Thanks for helping my kid.” *gives cashier signature sunny smile before walking out of the store, then promptly sprinting home*