#because it both is and isnt

[starfallen-archives]

A Tango, of the Tek variety

(heavily inspired by @.kitsuneisi and @.xmaruu11 's Double Hearted design for him)

[productofaritual]

"We need more morally grey characters in complicated morally grey situations" Y'ALL CAN'T EVEN HANDLE THEM

[exhausted-undead]

"It was affection that held us together."

zoom in for better detail (tumblr likes to butcher my quality lmao)

[lucabyte]

i feel like people are sleeping on the occam's razor situation of how buckwild it is to outright accuse a guy of being a clone of your friend even if you DO have a lot of circumstantial evidence. there's other options is what im saying. they could just be like. a guy. that's a sensible deduction. you should explore that deduction. ignore my shirt that reads I <3 RED HERRINGS.

i still think odile has the correct theory on lock but she's smart enough to know it needs like... a real smoking gun to be able to bring it up without sounding insane.

anyway. (mirabelle voice) i know its rude to speculate but has anyone else noticed the grieving? they seem to be grieving. does anyone have any thoughts on the grieving? i have some thoughts on the grieving.

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[mamawasatesttube]

no more "kon got his piercing by asking tim to use a kryptonite needle" (lies, straight up wrong, ignores the significance of kon's earring as a reclamation of his own bodily autonomy after being dehumanized to the point of being tagged like a lab mouse).

instead, if you want something about timkon and intimacy, listen. just picture tim "overthinker" drake in the jewelry store staring at two nearly-identical pairs of simple studs for a full 30 minutes as he tries to determine which would make a better gift for kon (he got overwhelmed by the novelty earrings rack. too many options). he knows why kon wears an earring instead of letting the piercing close up (kon likes the look, but moreover, it's about the fact that it's his body to do with as he likes). so picking the one kon would like best is important!!! he has to get it right!!! he needs to make sure kon has that special little smile on his face when he opens the gift box and understands how much thought tim put into it!!!

(coda: tim sees kon actually wearing an earring he bought him and runs into a mental blue screen of death, realizes he's staring, and then immediately climbs out the window.)

[theposhperyton]

Is this anything chat

[corviiids]

tbh au where L just doesn't seem to zero in on light as kira at all and light is smug at first but then starts to get increasingly frustrated as L keeps taking swings and missing completely. gets kinda close and then announces the biggest suspect is sayu yagami. don't worry about the older one, he's just an ordinary boy. L never even makes contact. light's dropping signs and L is picking them up but completely misinterpreting them. light's like this guy's a fucking idiot lmfao?? i could get away with this forever. but then he gets bored with no one to play with and he's irritated that L keeps giving credit to every random idiot for being kira. light starts dropping more and more brazen clues trying to see if this stupid detective can take a hint and then L arrests him off the massive trail of evidence he's been leaving for months

[afterthelambs]

I'm not sure if I believe the "Wakaba Isshiki did unethical experiments" theory in the fandom, but I do think this is the biggest proof of it in-game:

Because how the hell would she know that?

The first explanation is that she did experiments by sending people into palaces and then testing what happens to them if the palace collapses. Which is messed up for obvious reasons.

The second explanation is that she did NOT test it, meaning she was just making shit up. Which is funny but also would make her a terrible scientist. This explanation is less believable because everything else about her research is too accurate.

There's also a theory that Wakaba did unethical experiments on Akechi specifically. I'm not sure I believe that, since the evidence for it is pretty shallow (like the featherman game scientist experimenting on grey pigeon). But this scene is once again the biggest argument you could make for that theory. The researcher in the image above refers to palaces by their correct term 'palaces', which they say was based on Wakaba's research. But that's only something you would know with firsthand experience of the metaverse. And the only person they know who could access the metaverse was Akechi (that we know of, but i dont think Shido would rely only on Akechi if there were other options).

So yeah this scene is very sus. It's most likely the writers didn't think too deep about the implications. There's no way they wanted Futaba's mom to be sketchy, right? But even if it's not intentional, the scenes and their implications still exist. So in conclusion those theories make sense, I get it, and I don't blame anyone for headcanoning them and having fun. And tbh anyone involved with cognitive psience was portrayed as some degree of unethical (maruki for example), maybe this is just on-brand

[jadewritesficshere]

Grey

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Synopsis: Steve gets a wake up call from yall's daughter

Contents: talks of aging, kids being kids, references to smut but nothing explicit

Steve groans as his consciousness comes to. Something is hitting his face. Someone. Repeatedly.

Steve squints his bleary eyes open as a hand smacks him in the jaw again. A small smile appears on his face even though his jaw stings from the impact. "Morning," Steve's voice is still thick with sleep as he turns to look into brown eyes barely peeking over the edge of the bed.

A quiet voice repeats back ,"Morning," to Steve before arms reach up over the edge of the bed to try and grasp something. Small hands grab the blanket and tug it off of him slightly as the child attempts to climb up. At two and half, Amelia Joy Harrington can barely see above the edge of her parents' bed, let alone get on it.

Steve hoists Amelia up and sits her on his stomach. Steve winces as Amelia scrambles, a stray foot hitting his thigh precariously close to his crotch. Arms are thrown around his neck in a hug as Amelia lays her head against her dad's chest.

Steve feels like his heart could burst out of his chest from the joy he is feeling. A hug from his baby? The best way to wake up in the morning. Who cares if his jaw is still stinging and probably red, his little girl loves him.

Steve sighs in contentment. Steve holds his daughter close until she starts to fidget and wiggle. Amelia sits up and throws her hands in the air. "Happy Birthday!" She whispers excitedly, except she has no concept of how quiet a whisper should actually be and says it in a much too loud voice.

"What?" Steve asks, hand hovering near Amelia's side in case she slips. Amelia's eyebrows furrow as she pouts at him, a look that is an exact copy of you. Her arms slowly lower as she stares at Steve. "Happy Birthday. You old." Amelia pouts at him.

Steve blinks at Amelia in confusion but nods his head. First off, rude, he isn't that old. Steve isn't sure where she gets her unfiltered, blunt commentary (it absolutely isn't him). Second, it absolutely isn't his birthday. Not even close.

"Why uh...why is it my birthday?" Steve asks, unsure if Amelia fully understands the concept. Not sure if he can explain the idea of a birthday to a two (and a half) year old. "Grey." Amelia declares giving Steve whiplash. Before Steve can speak, Amelia points at the comforter," Blue." Steve smiles," Yes, blue."

Amelia points to her shirt," Green." Steve nods. Amelia taps under Steve's eye, lashes brushing against her finger causing him to close it. Steve hopes she doesn't attempt to actually poke his eye.

"Brown." Amelia declares. "Thats right." Steve grins, his girl is so smart. Amelia points to his temple," Grey." "That's ri- what?! No!" Steve's mouth drops open as Amelia giggles. "Uncle Dustbin says grey is old. Birthday makes old. Happy Birthday!"

The creak of the loose floorboard in the hall notifies Steve of your approach. You peek into the doorway of the room, seeing your two favorite people. One looking aghast and the other giggling at her father's reaction.

"What's going on in here?" You ask, leaning against the doorway. "Grey. Birthday." Amelia announces, like it explains everything. And it does in her little mind.

You hum in response, looking at your husband who seems lost for words. Amelia slides off of Steve and off the bed, Steve guiding her so her feet land on the ground absent-mindedly. He would never let her fall or get hurt. Or you.

Amelia half walks half dances in your direction. A prance in her step, she stops in front of you and grabs your hands. "It's daddy's birthday," She says before headbutting your leg. You chuckle and pat her head as she dances out of the room, in her own little world.

"You lying to my kid again?" You ask once Amelia is gone. Steve sputters as he sits up," I did not- our kid- did not lie." "Uh-huh, sure," you say sarcastically. Steve rolls his eyes at you as he gets up out of bed.

Steve stretches as he rocks on his feet, back cracking, before strolling over to you. "Good morning," Steve mumbles, hand landing on your hip. You hum back as he leans in and kisses you. Soft. Slow. Sweet. Leaving you longing for more as he pulls back.

"Love you," Steve says, fingers running along the waistband of your pants. "I love you too," you want to melt into him. Curl up in his arms and stay in this moment. Let the love and adoration fill the air around you.

"Do I look old?" Steve is the first to break the silence. Your brow furrows in confusion," huh?" "Amelia she," Steve huffs out a laugh," said I have grey hair." You chuckle as you bring a hand up, fingers threading through his hair," You have some but its nice." "Its nice huh?" "Makes you look distinguished. Handsome." You bite your lip and look up at him.

Steve knows that look. Knows it well. It's the look you gave him the first time you moved past just making out. The same look you gave him on your first anniversary. The same look you wore on your wedding night. The same look you gave before Amelia was conceived.

Steve can't help the smirk that spreads across his face. If getting old gives him that look, well, he won't complain.

"What about me?" You ask, batting your lashes. "Beautiful," Steve kisses your cheek," Gorgeous," he kisses the corner of your lips. He continues to alternate between kissing all over your face and praising you.

"My love," Steve whispers before kissing you softly on the lips. You sigh into the kiss, one hand tangling in his hair, the other trying to pull him closer.

A loud crash from the living room has you two pulling back from the sweet moment you stole. "What was that?" You call down the hall. "Nothing!" Amelia yells back, making you sigh but smile. Steve can't help but grin too. His life was a little hectic dealing with a rambunctious child, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. And he thinks, if life is like this, he can manage getting old with you. He wouldn't want it any other way.

[thewhizzyhead]

WAIT I WANNA BRING UP ANOTHER THING ABOUT HOW BULLYING IS ADDRESSED IN NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE. one thing I really liked about how Max is shown as a bully is his talk with Pete at the Pasqualli's parking lot. When Pete tries to stand up to Max, Max pushes him down and emphasizes that Pete isn't a loser because of his own qualities - rather, Pete is a loser because Max simply said so.

Of course we can attribute this to Max's god complex but I think that this point in particular is less than often really brought up in teen-centered media featuring bullying: that bullying exists not because of nerdy behavior or whatever the fuck, but because bullies will it into being. And to have a BULLY of all people say that out loud - to have the main villain point out the root of their behavior without showing any kind of shame whatsoever - showcases just how much of a menace Max is.

[calciumcryptid]

Kinn would use pet names because he is the type of dork who would find them genuinely romantic.

Kim would use pet names because he thinks it gets him a good grade in boyfriend, a normal and possible thing to want to achieve.

Vegas would use pet names because he is exerting ownership in ways deemed socially acceptable, but he has to be pretentious about it.

[bitchapalooza]

Mihawk knows how to injure a person deeply without it being guaranteed fatal. Zoro trained under him for 2 years. Zoro made a promise to Sanji.

Aka, if this promise does get fulfilled, it'll be a farce in the end. Zoro will probably injure Sanji enough to scar, not kill. Because Zoro would never seriously harm his crew like that. If Sanji loses his way, Zoro can't just talk him out of the situation because it literally wouldn't work, he would have to be forced to comply with the promise he made. He would risk losing the crew's trust—Luffy's trust—by doing this. But he would challenge Sanji's trust if he didn't. Sure Sanji wouldn't be himself to feel betrayed if Zoro doesn't do it, but Zoro knows that if he were himself, Sanji would feel that way. Zoro is a loyal guy, he doesn't break his promises. But he could find a loophole. He does get lost often, maybe he got lost on the way to keeping his word?

[babychosen]

you want us to come... finger you?

[yuwuta]

MORE KNIGHT YUTA PLEASE I BEG OF YOU!!

yes ofc. he’s obedient, but still sly...... to me, knight yuuta will do as you say, but he will also act before you speak if he thinks that’s what’s right to protect you...... it’s like..... he thinks he’s the only person who can protect you, and you’re the only person who can protect him from himself........ anyway, enjoy this teehee cw mentions of murder (what else is new)

Yuuta sighs when he sees your silhouette in the moonlight, peering over the grand balcony. The heavy fabric of your dress resists rustles in the shallow winds of the evening; it tells Yuuta that you have not gone to bed, that he did not wake you, that you waited for him, that you anticipated him. 

From his position below, standing center in the courtyard, you appear something like a goddess, but he knows better than to compare to something so fickle. Gods are fable and you are truth, you are real. 

“Princess, you should be asleep. Might I help you to bed?” Yuuta offers, voice loud enough for you hear him one story higher, but quiet enough not to rouse the other knights on watch for the night. 

Yuuta watches intently as you shake you head, trails the smooth movement of your fingers grazing across the stone ribboning of the railing. You stop at the center, resting your clothed forearms against cold stone, wrists and hands hanging over the edge, and the lightest hum escaping from your lips, “If I were to fall, would you catch me, Yuuta?” 

Yuuta nods, without hesitation, “Yes, princess.” 

His eyes remained glued to you, carefully tracking your movements as you slowly sway to your left, delicate footsteps carrying you to the top of the stairway. Yuuta’s body turns with yours, standing at the base of the stairs, awaiting your arrival. 

Your careful to lift up the skirt of your dress with one hand, press your palm to the railing for support with the other, tilt your head down enough so that Yuuta can see your face in the moonlight, “And if I were to ask you to escort me to the kitchen, would you?” 

One, two, three steps, and you pause. Yuuta answers, “Yes, princess.” 

A hum, another step, then three, then four, then another question, “And if I said I craved fresh berries, and asked you to gather and wash and prepare them for me, would you?” 

“Yes, princess.” 

You continue at a slow pace, three steps, another question, three more, and Yuuta answers; always yes, always willing. You stop, three steps before the end of the stairs, and yet it only makes you a head taller than your knight. You drop your dress, take the smallest step forward, but not down, before you pose your next question. 

“And if I asked you to return to your quarters and not kill Lord Hajime tonight, would you?” 

This time, Yuuta cannot meet your eyes, head turning down, gaze set on the cold floor of the courtyard.

“Would you not do what is asked of you, Yuuta?”

He hears your voice first, then feels the warm touch of your fingers when you reach out to comb through his hair. Your fingernails scratch against his scalp, tugging with gentle vigor until you’ve forced his head up, until you’ve forced his gaze; and then, slowly, you bring your other hand to join its companion, and you have him between the palm of your hands. You always do. 

He holds his tongue, still; he wouldn’t dare say no to you, even if he thinks it. 

“Or do you only do as you please?” you tilt his head between your hands, “You would lie to me, wouldn’t you? You’ve done it before.” 

“Only for your protection,” Yuuta says, pleading, “I promise.” 

You hum, warm fingers brushing against his cold skin in the night. You look daunting, beautiful. 

“I might not be as conniving as my guards, nor as divisive as my cabinet, but I am still the princess, and you still serve me,” your words are calm, steady, eerie; Yuuta shudders into your touch when you trail you left hand down, pointer finger tracing along the frame of his face before hooking under his chin, forcing further accession between you and him, “Do you no longer wish to please me, Yuuta?” 

Yuuta sighs, raising his hand to wrap around your wrist, the cold metal of his armor whistling with his movement. With worried words and weary expression he asks: “Would Lord Hajime please you, princess?” 

He watches as your face falls, eyes sad and lips solemn, moving your hands down his face to swipe your thumbs against his temples. Yuuta lets go of your wrist, but he remains pliant in your hold, obedient under your touch, grateful when you shake your head.  

“Then why can’t I kill him?” Yuuta questions, earnest and upset. 

“Oh, Yuuta,” you muse, brushing away a fallen eyelash before bringing his head to your chest and cradling it between soft palms and soft cloth, “My Yuuta,” your words are spoken against the top of his head and the warmth radiates down the rest of his body.

“Lord Hajime will be dealt with accordingly. This is not how I wish to resolve things,” you assure him; Yuuta doesn’t like your solution, but you are his princess, so he will listen, he will stand and be warm against you, “And you are obvious. Another murder would only raise suspicion.” 

“They do not know it was me.” 

You chuckle, only lightly, and Yuuta can feel it against your chest, “But now I know.” 

Yuuta looks up, chin resting against your chest, his hands reaching up, resting greedily against your waist. Your palms find purchase against his cheeks again, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment, sinking into his dream. 

Slowly, he opens his eyes, blinks up at you. “I will accept whatever punishment you see fit.” 

This time, you tilt your head, allowing the moonlight to strike his face. Yuuta glows in anticipation, awaits your word. A moment, and then a hum. 

“I’m sure you will,” you tell him, before removing your hands from his face. Yuuta whimpers, pout growing deeper when you turn around in his hold, your back to him as you begin to ascend the stairs. 

Again, he waits, hands falling to your side as he eyes your silhouette. He counts ten steps before you turn your head over your shoulder, “Come. That’s an order.” 

Yuuta dips his head down, clasps his hand behind his back before he begins to follow you up the stairs, “Yes, of course, princess.” 

[anonymouscheeses]

YALL WERE ALL WRONGG. THEY'RE BOTH GIRLFAILSS

NO ONE SIDED SIMPING HEREE 🗣🔥🔥

Bonus homophobic Jax 😝 (he's gay too)

Glad someone shut his trap for once even tho i love him 🙄