#So that's fun

[swiftrunnerfelidae]

girls is it gay to psychically project yourself into the mind of your girlfriend who is a biomechanical weapon so as to unlock the full nature of her powers and also give her the chance to protect you from harm? anyway Warframe 1999 is great.

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

[thebibliosphere]

I feel like I'm the only person I know who could take a drug meant to lower your blood pressure (propranolol) and end up hypertensive from it instead.

The annoying thing is it killed my migraine pain; I'm just fucking allergic to it, so I can't even enjoy being pain-free because the rest of me got hit with the anaphylactoid reaction stick.

[wise-lizard-wizard]

You know. At the end of the Psy vs Psy episode, when Shawn tells the Fake Psychic that she "gives a bad name to real psychics" everyone kinda had to keep a straight face during that. I mean, out of everyone there I think only three people actually believe he's psychic.

Gus, his best friend, who KNOWS he isn't actually psychic.

Lassiter, who doesn't believe he's psychic.

Chief Vick, who's implied to know he isn't psychic but has never been outright shown to know, so ig there's like a 50/50 chance she doesn't know???

Possibly Lindsay. I think she recognizes another grifter, but again, 50/50 chance.

The only ones who do think he's psychic is Juliet, The Federal Treasury Agent, and Mildred the stenographer.

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

my problem with the career!annie debate

If you're in the odesta fandom at all you've probably seen people discussing whether or not Annie Cresta was a Career and volunteered for the Hunger Games. I've been thinking about this a lot and there was always something about this discussion that bugged me.

This debate has gone from questioning if Annie was a Career to questioning if Annie was strong, and those are not the same thing.

First of all, we know that Annie was strong. Not only is she a victor, but she was able to vote no for a final hunger games (after she'd just been held prisoner by the Capitol and lost her husband) then go home and raise her son. I think this notion that Annie wasn't strong comes from the way Katniss describes her win - as more luck than anything else. But in order for Annie to survive the flood in her arena (which is already hard to do) she first had to survive up until that point, and we have no idea how long that took.

A lot of career!annie headcanons that I've seen come from wanting to give Annie more agency, power, and strength, which is great! But a lot of these theories also imply that Annie is only strong if she's a Career, and that the other iteration of her character--the one who was reaped--is weak.

Part of this probably comes from the morality attached to being a Career. People assume that if Annie volunteered, she is more aggressive, and that the version of her that was reaped is somehow kinder. From here, it is easy to see how one version is considered strong while the other is considered weak.

Strength comes in so many different forms, and we see this in Annie. It's one of the only canonical things we actually know about her. What we see in the books alone is enough to say that she is strong, whether she was a Career or not.

There's a lot of nuance to career!annie, and it's something I love to explore, but being a Career is not the only way to be strong! She doesn't need to be an aggressive fighter to be a strong person, and she doesn't need to have been a Career to be an aggressive fighter. These details about her can exist independently from each other, and canon is vague enough on the details that basically anything is possible.

I love the "was Annie a career" debate, but the "was Annie strong" debate shouldn't even be a question.

[devilat-thedoor]

realizing that “the louder it is” is not just the screaming and crying out. it’s the skin on skin, echoing off the walls. the heavy, panting breaths. the frantic grabbing and clawing. it’s animalistic. it’s all a fucking symphony.

anyways. Flaunt what you’ve got.

[mossiistars]

when ur familiar kisses you and you know you shouldn't be doing this but

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #78

Damian always knew that when he was born he wasn’t born in the traditional sense. He’s aware that he was put into a tube and formed there. It was more convenient for everyone that way, after all.

What he didn’t know is that he was one of three. That apparently he was a triplet.

Not until he met Danny and Ellie, that is.

[kestallia]

sonamy week 5 • fantasy ♡

Designs are from Sonic Fantasy, which is a spacey/sci-fi type AU on YouTube by @tarasdiary & @howlingmoon08 🫶🏽 ♡

There's gonna be Sonamy moments in it, so if you're interested, you can check it out here ☄️

[darkopsiian]

thumbnail for me fucking dying in Jackbox

[666writingcafe]

A String of Texts

Part One

Diavolo: Construction has commenced for the school.

MC: *thumbs up emoji*

Diavolo: I've also opened up an application process to fill teaching positions.

Diavolo: Solomon was right. I'm not the only one who wants a better future for the Devildom.

Diavolo: In fact, this is the current state of my office.

Diavolo: *picture of desk and floor being covered with giant stacks of paperwork*

MC: *shocked crow sticker*

MC: That's a LOT of applications.

Diavolo: I know. I was wondering if you were able to help me go through them.

MC: Certainly. What sort of things are you looking for?

Diavolo: Well, I know that some of these aren't genuine. Either they want to use this as an opportunity to exploit me, or they want to continue bullying the brothers and figure that they could get away with it if they had some amount of authority over them. I can't allow that to happen.

MC: So, weed out the phonies. Got it. Anything else?

Diavolo: Figure out who's the most qualified for different positions.

MC: Is there going to be job interviews as well?

Diavolo: Of course, but I don't want to waste my time by interviewing just anyone that's applied. I have other duties to do, after all.

MC: Understandable.

MC: Solomon and I will swing by in a little bit to grab some of those stacks.

~~~

Part Two

Lucifer: I need you to come over and spend the night at the House. I have plans with the prince, and I have no idea how long they'll last.

MC: Will do. Do I need to bring/cook dinner for your brothers?

Lucifer: I would say that's not necessary, but the last few meals have been disasters, so do with that information what you will.

MC: *thumbs up emoji*

MC: I'll grab ingredients to make stew.

Lucifer: Stew?

MC: It's generally rather filling.

Lucifer: Even for an Avatar of Gluttony?

MC: Oh, he'll get his own pot.

Lucifer: Wow...you've certainly thought about this, haven't you?

MC: Just making sure I have all my bases covered.

MC: Moving on from food...

Lucifer: Yes?

MC: Diavolo has given me some paperwork to sift through, and I was wondering if I could bring it along with me.

Lucifer: Absolutely. It's important to complete assignments for the prince. I'll make sure you have a place to work.

MC: *thumbs up emoji*

~~~

Part Three

MC: Don't forget to use protection.

Diavolo: *picture of a box of condoms*

MC: DUDE

MC: I MEANT THAT AS A JOKE

MC: I DIDN'T REALIZE YOU ACTUALLY INTEND ON PULLING THE MOVES ON LUCIFER THIS EVENING

Diavolo: *laughing crow sticker*

MC: Allow me to give you a piece of advice, then: DON'T abuse the power you have over him to make him do stuff he normally wouldn't consent to.

Diavolo: I didn't realize that future me was that much of an ass.

MC: In my timeline, that sort of thing happened long before I came in the picture. Just...don't succumb to the temptation, okay?

Diavolo: I'll try my best not to.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[greenbergsays]

My great aunt came down to spend the night with us so she could go to the Teenager's graduation party tomorrow and I don't know if you've argued with a Boomer lately about pronouns, gender identity/expression, or gender vs sex but it really is like talking to a toddler throwing a tantrum

"what about me? what about what I want, what about what I think? Why do THEY get what they want and I don't??? Why do they have more rights than I do??"

And honestly, I can't even make an eloquent argument because for me it's instinctive that, like.

It costs me nothing, it's not hurting anyone, so who cares if I agree or disagree? There are tons of neo-pronouns that I don't "get" but any time I come across something like that, I just shrug and say, "you do you, boo boo" and then go about my day

I've never understood why the older generation can't do the same. That dude with his nails painted pink is not a problem unless he's actively trying to harm you and at that point, the nails has nothing to do with it

[mdverse]

happy vday! <3

(2023); (2022); (2021)

[mochinomnoms]

Im almost freeeeeeeee! then I can write my little jade

[yourwormfriend]

Made a cover for my fan-fic I hope you guys like it! <3

Cool tid-bit the letters are the color of the masks of both iterations