#before you ask yes this is me projecting

[doubledyke]

it doesn't really make sense in the logic (lol) of the show but part of me loves the idea that edd is being raised by his grandparents.... kids who are raised by grandparents tend to be overly mature and a little uhhhhh off-beat. i feel like it could explain a lot.

[blondeaxolotl]

Do you have any headcanons based off your Modern AU?

Right now they're only about Doll and Maurice since I started the au off with them (which also wasn't planned but hey it was Headache Mono's idea)

When Doll and Maurice first met, they didn't get along at all because they were opposites in fashion, taste in music, interests and everything so on, but they eventually started getting along after they both found out they were into graffiti art 👍

Both of them are from a trio, Doll being in a trio with Joanne and O!Ciel. While Maurice is in a trio with Alois and Lizzy (yes they all get along, shocking, I know)

Maurice lives with his parents, meanwhile Doll lives with her older adoptive brother "Joker" since Doll's parents don't bother taking care of her

Maurice's parents took a liking to Doll immediately after they met her, being welcomed to stay over at their house for as long as she wants (which she gratefully does, constantly)

They're both multigender! Doll is bigender while Maurice is genderfluid (self-projection beam), though Doll prefers to dress more masc while Maurice prefers to be more femme. Should also mention that Doll goes by She/Him while Maurice goes by any

Doll lives in an apartment with Joker in town, while Maurice lives in village and his parents have a lot of animals.. including rabbits which Doll likes alot because her favourite cereal mascot is the Nesquik rabbit

Also since they're both graffiti artists, yes this does mean in general they make OCs together like any other artists friends do!!!

okay that's all for now

[sysig]

Challenge level: Impossible (Patreon)

[crystal-mouse]

Hey guys- this isn't aimed at most people or any of my mutuals but as a general note as this has happened again:

please don't upload/repost my posts (on tumblr and other social media) or at least ask me before reposting!

I'm happy for people to use my edits/posts with credit for personal account stuff like profile pics/banners and things like transformative meme edits (again please credit/tag me)

but please do not repost my edits/artwork separately and on other sites (especially instagram/pinterest/twitter/facebook/reddit etc) unless with permission, and in those cases please credit/tag and link to the original post.

If you'd like to use my edits for your project, I'd be more than happy to collaborate, but again please ask me first and credit/tag me!! I enjoy collaborating with people but it feels kinda bad if you take my work without asking especially if you know what its like to put effort into creating work for fun/fandom??

Although it may not always look like it, I put time and effort into making edits for fun and I'd prefer to be able to know where my work is and have it not taken out of context/used for monetary gain.

If I wanted to post my work on other social media I would post it myself ^^;;

Thank you to everyone who is respectful of this and interacts with my posts- this is not aimed at you, so please don't worry! For the most part everyone is lovely- I really enjoy making edits and taking part in fandom spaces :)

To anyone who does repost- please respect this boundary ^^;;

[feroluce]

Hello!! I came here because I was informed you had some Wriowinne headcanons and ramblings to share? Would it be alright for me to ask for some 👉👈 (or as much as you want to share please I'm desperate for food)

OH BOY DO I.

I feel you anon, I've been shipping them like...since the PV. So I've been stuck in utter absolute hell, getting nothing but father&daughter content from the fandom (shoutout to @hydrachea for being able to dual wield and letting me talk ship to her, light of my life fr weh). I'm hoping now that 4.1 has been out for a little bit, we'll get some more of them, though. I've dug through our dms, and found a hc that takes place after 4.1. So spoilers for that archon quest, but no leaks are involved!

Anyway, I love thinking about how close they cut it at the climax of 4.1, and the aftermath of it all.

Sigewinne somehow finding out what happened down there at the bottom of Meropide while she was evacuating the inmates, and like. She knows what the stakes were. The Primordial Seawater could not be allowed to rise. Clorinde made the right decision in shooting the gate lock. Even if it had killed Wriothesley, it still would have been the right decision.

That doesn't mean it's not a bitter pill to swallow.

Sigewinne can usually put it out of mind during the day, especially when she's busy treating patients, but it's harder when she's asleep. She dreams of the evacuation, and the alarm blaring, and waiting and waiting and waiting, and Clorinde walking past, alone, with her head down and her fists shaking, until Neuvilette finally approaches. Wriothesley isn't with him.

And Neuvilette's face doesn't really show much. It never does. But Sigewinne is close enough to the surface that she can hear the absolute downpour raging outside as Neuvilette tells her that he's sorry, he's so so sorry, and he gives her a gray and black and red coat, so soaked through with Primordial Seawater that he'd been afraid to let anyone else touch it, and the fur collar is matted and wet against Sigewinne's face when she clutches it close-

Sigewinne jolts awake, grasping at whatever is in her reach, which just happens to include Wriothesley's arm. His eyes almost immediately fly open, slurring out a mix of what's goin' on and what's wrong, and then a do we need to evacuate and poor Sigewinne, she feels awful. He hasn't been sleeping as well since the almost-flood, every little sound wakes him up now.

(There are nights where she'll wake up alone, and if she goes looking, she'll find Wriothesley, still in his sleep clothes and looking exhausted, down under their secret passage and staring at Neuvilette's seal over the sluice gate. Like he's keeping watch over it, or just daring it to try and do something.

Whenever she finds him like this, Sigewinne tells him to come on, come back to bed, and he'll keep his eye on it until the last possible second, but generally Wriothesley comes when called, and he'll let her lead him away. On his worse nights, he'll tell her to go back without him, he can't sleep anyway, he's going to stay down here for just a little while longer. He'll be back later. And she does occasionally go back to bed, but most of the time she stays, because she doesn't like the idea of him alone down there. Sigewinne will tuck herself into his side, or she'll get him to relax his guard just enough to lay with his head in her lap, and they'll stay there like that until Wriothesley finally decides he can bear to leave it alone and go back to bed with her.)

So with all that in mind, when she accidentally wakes him up, Sigewinne quickly gets her breathing back under control and pets his hair until he relaxes again. She tells him it's fine, everything is ok. Meropide is safe. Their home and everyone in it is safe. Go back to sleep. He needs his rest if he's going to go up to the overworld for supplies in the morning. She'll go sleep in the infirmary, she just had a nightmare, is all (the truth), it was nothing, she barely even remembers it anymore (a lie).

Sigewinne doesn't even make it out of bed, though, because when she tries to go, she finds her wrist suddenly caught. She turns back and Wriothesley is squinting up at her face, human night vision isn't nearly as good as a Mélusine's. They sit there like that for a moment, until she can see through the expression on his face that he's come to some sort of decision. Wriothesley pulls her back in and Sigewinne lets him, lets him rearrange them into something more comfortable. It's easy to give up when it's him, she didn't truly want to leave anyway. By the time he makes a satisfied little huff into her hair, Sigewinne is tucked under his chin, her face against his chest, one arm wrapped around her to keep her there. She pats his side and tells him ok, ok, she gets it. She won't go anywhere.

Wriothesley buries his face in her hair and sighs at that, something deeper and more content that hilariously reminds Sigewinne of a dog asleep on the floor. "Good." Wriothesley sounds like he's already half-asleep again. His arm still tightens around her waist though, just to make a point. "How could I sleep, when I know you're off somewhere crying alone?"

Sigewinne touches her cheek, and sure enough, it's wet? She has tear tracks. No wonder Wriothesley had been staring at her so hard. She hadn't even realized. And she opens her mouth to protest because she wasn't crying, some tears in her sleep doesn't count, but. Wriothesley is already asleep again, breathing slow and deep and even, and his arm is heavy and warm around her, and his sleep shirt is soft and comfortable against her face, not at all like the fur-collared coat in her dreams.

Sigewinne gives in again, curls into all that warmth and wraps herself up in it, until it lulls her back to sleep.

[seekingthestars]

we're doing these workshop things to try to address some of the equity/workflow/workload problems in our department and our facilitator wants everyone to email her "the problem [we'd] like to solve in [our] large team" and how do i politely say i just want people to do their fucking jobs

[rt8815]

I just learned one of my colleagues (originally from Ireland) crossed paths with Hozier in a Dublin pub (I forget the name) years ago.

Does the gif at all indicate the nature of the story?

No, I just love looking at him.

But also, the hair?

Like, sir? Could you not?!

With the smile?!

And the glasses?!

My brain go brrr.

[eclarinet]

same soup... different day

[rosicheeks]

let’s trade! you infodump to me about music theory and opera while i listen and ask questions throughout, and then i infodump about space and old canceled NASA projects? preferably while cuddling but i’m flexible 🥰

-🌸

OMG YES PLS 🥺🥺🥺

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was working at the sex shop I was pulling poverty wages. I loved my job but I was on food stamps and still barely getting by. When they hired the stores first male employee and he started at my pay rate after I’d been there for three years I quit.

I was initially really nervous when I saw the post for the mattress job. It listed a pay scale that I couldn’t even conceptualize and I appeared qualified. When I got an interview I was over the moon but also petrified. Reactions to my line of work often varied but most people were very embarrassed or skeptical. I worried about how I’d address it in the actual interview.

I lived far to the north of their headquarters and drove almost two hours to get there. When I finally arrived it was in the nicest thrift store clothes I could find, but I shrank inside to see a room full of older white men in nice suits waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

Why did I bother? I was decades younger than anyone else in the room, shabbily dressed, and I suspected I was the only afab person in the entire building. I stewed in my insecurities until I was called in.

The second I met my interviewer I was instantly put at ease. The man had the energy of a therapy dog, he was abound with positive, good natured energy. He was also incredibly beautiful. I grinned back at his welcoming smile as we said our pleasantries. But still. This very beautiful polished man seemed very innocent. How would the sex shop question go?

“I see here you worked at STORE?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“And that was sales? Or you just rang people up.”

“No, it was sales. I’d help people find products, we were encouraged to upsell, there was sales spiffs, and most importantly we educated customers on products to help them find what they liked best.”

He grinned approvingly and asked, “Can you give me an example of a time you successfully upsold a customer?”

I paused, wringing my hands before I asked, “How vague would you like me to be…?”

“Not at all!” He assured me. “Go for it!”

“Well. A man came in looking for something to make his fingers vibrate so when he was touching his wife it would enhance that sensation. We had cheap $10 cockrings that I showed him first. But we had a rechargeable waterproof one made of nicer material, and after I showed him a demo he bought that one.”

“How much was that one?”

“$110”

“Wow! You had an upsell of 100% from what he came in looking for! That’s incredible!”

He was so truly genuinely stoked and not at all embarrassed that for the first time I saw a tiny glimmer of a future where I didn’t have ramen and peanut butter tiding me over between paychecks.

He asked me to wait then came back to tell me he liked me so much that he wanted to send me right into another interview, if that was okay. He didn’t want me to have to drive back later, it was terribly considerate and exciting. I beamed and told him it would be lovely.

I then had the second worst interview I’ve ever had. The worst goes to the time I applied to be a store manager for a pet food place years later. The district and store manager interviewing me passed notes and texted while I was speaking. When the district manager called to inform me I didn’t get the job I told him I’d never have accepted anyway because I’d never had such a disrespectful interview.

The new man sitting behind the desk radiated an aura of a brick wall. As someone with anxiety I’m highly keyed into the emotional states of people I’m talking to. To receive no feedback at all was my personal hell. After a perfunctory greeting he asked me with no inflection to sell him a pen.

I gathered the shreds of my courage and attempted the Herculean task he’d set me. Through my whole improvised spiel he resisted all attempts at engaging him, regarding me with a cold apathy as I touted the benefits of my fictitious pen.

Halfway through I broke into a cold sweat. My smile didn’t waver but it grew strained as I projected friendliness and warmth into the black hole of his heart. My thoughts scattered and my sales pitch grew redundant in the face of his nothingness. I finally concluded with a hard close and he simply nodded.

He glanced at my resume and commented, “You didn’t ask me to touch or hold it. Though I suppose I can understand from your previous line of work why you wouldn’t.” I shriveled and died inside knowing that I encouraged people to touch dildos all day long and had been too frazzled to offer him the pen.

He bid me a cool farewell. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. I had never been so rattled. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make him so unfriendly or if my threadbare clothes were what had made him treat me like dirt. I drove an hour and a half to get home, weeping intermittently.

I was therefore taken by complete surprise to receive a call the next day inviting me on board for their five week training program. The first man who’d interviewed me gushed on the phone about how the second guy had loved me and that I was going to be fantastic.

I was in shock. When I showed up to training the second interviewer was charming my new classmates, beaming and laughing. He was an utterly different person. To my dismay I learned he was the trainer for my district and would be my point of contact if I made it through training.

He joked with me later that his interview facade was just a tactic to see how people held up under pressure and I filed him into a category of my deepest enmity. I never forgave him for how small he made me feel that day, but I never showed him the depths of my fury.

I aced every test and went on to be valedictorian of the eight people who had survived the rigorous training process to earn a sales position. When I got my first paycheck I bought myself new clothes, the first non-thrifted things I’d owned in years.

[ccherrycolouredfunk]

at this point, i’m incredibly tempted to make anyone who wants to collaborate with me sign a contract. lol

[verystressedcollegestudent]

if there's one thing i hate more than slackers in group projects its goddamn hypocrites

[skyburger]

do NOT ask me a question and then let me go on wikipedia to check something you WILL receive really bizarre useless information

[constellationcrowned]

((Finalizing and making the muse bios public is a ways off (I'm waiting for ch3 to release tbh, because there'll be a lot more to use, cover, etc) but when I do for the sake of accessibility not only will each bio have its own navi (which I can provide a sample of) I'll also list the notable tws associated with each character, primarily because they can be pretty severe and I don't skimp/water them down when writing. Safety is important y'know?))

[mohammadayyad1]

In the heart of the siege, even bread has become a dream. 🍞💔

In Gaza,hunger is no longer just a feeling; it has become a constant companion, a heavy shadow that follows us at every moment.🕊️

My family of 13 has been worn down by the merciless hunger, and searching for our daily sustenance has become a daily battle. ⚔️🥀

Yesterday, desperation and need drove me to go out in search of a loaf of bread.

What I found was not a "queue," but a scene that resembled a battlefield:

Endless crowds 🧑‍🤝‍🧑👩‍👩‍👧‍👦.

Screams mixed with fear 📢😟.

Eyes burdened with pain 🥺💔.

Every step was a struggle against a tide of hunger and humiliation 💨🌪️.

And in the end?

I returned empty-handed, carrying only shame and sorrow. 😔🪫

My children waited for me with small hopes, their eyes asking

Did you bring us bread ?

But I had no answer. 🥖💭

Donate via 🔻🔻🔻🔻

GFM | PayPal | Cash App

The war is not just in the bombs that destroy homes 🏚️💣,

but in this daily humiliation as we try to secure our basic right: food. 🍽️

This is not a "flour crisis."

It is the voice of an entire community crying from beneath the rubble:

"We are human, don't we have the right to life?" 🌍🕊️

Will there be a day when my children live without fear? 😔🌟

Will the dawn come when we are freed from this hunger? 🌅🍞

Our hope in God still stands 🙏✨, and our call to humanity is:

Wake up, before we become just a memory in the pages of history. 🖤📜

Note :

Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #160 )

Vetted by ButterflyEffect Project 🦋, my number verified on the list is ( #599 )

Vetted by PaliLiberation 🍉, my number verified on the lis# is ( #95 )

Verified by me @a-shade-of-blue

@dlxxv-vetted-donations @musicfren

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@loathsome-little-creature @90-ghost

[alienzil]

Nanny Danny

“That is a whole ass baby,” was the only thought running through Lex Luthor’s head when the scientist proudly showed him the tube containing Project KR. It was not remotely the sort of thing he would normally think and most definitely not what he had expected to be thinking the first time he saw the clone.

He’d been pleased when he’d read the reports indicating the success of KR after years of failures. Lex had poured millions of dollars and literally his own blood into ensuring a clone of the alien could be made, one that would be under his total control instead of the unknown aspirations of Superman.  He’d wanted to see the fruits of his labors personally but this…

It. No, not an it. He scrunched his tiny face and smacked his lips and…did he smirk? Was that HIS SMIRK on that baby’s face?! No. No. Babies this small didn’t smile or smirk. They passed gas and their sleep deprived and addled parents mistook it for an intelligent response. He’d heard enough inane conversations in the Lexcorp office about the various progeny of his employees to pick up on that but still. This child had Kryptonian DNA, not to mention his own contribution. Surely, he was far more advanced than the dribbling potato shaped lump of an infant whose pictures he’d been forced to smile and nod over when Mark from accounting had rudely shoved them in his face at the last quarterly budget meeting. Yes, that was definitely a smirk. His, that was his smirk.

“So as you can see its growth is well within expected parameters and we’re planning to start phase one of accelerating the maturation process tomorrow once the testing is do-”

“Take him out.”

“Sir? The testing can all be accomplished while it remains in the tube. There’s no need to-”

“I said, take him out. The project is cancelled.”

“What?! Mr. Luthor you can’t!”

“I think you’ll find I can. Now get me my son.”

*****

Two years later

“Call them again”

“Sir, I’ve called them seven times. They won’t answer.”

“Then call another agency!”

“There isn’t another agency, Sir”

Lex glared at his assistant who stared back at him impassively. Mercy stood by the door staring off into the distance and pretending she didn’t notice him being bested by his own secretary.

He stopped himself from shouting again and took a deep breath before asking, “Then what, exactly, do you propose I do Mrs. Anderson? Adjust my entire schedule around naptimes? Find a toddler size lab coat and safety goggles and bring my son with me to tour the new clean energy project on Thursday? Perhaps buy a tiny business suit while I’m at it for the next board meeting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Luthor. I’m telling you that no childcare agency in Metropolis will return my calls anymore. Most won’t even answer.  You’ve gone through 27 nannies in the last 3 months. You need someone better suited to your son’s…special needs.”

Lex snorted. “Special needs might be a bit of understatement. He can lift a car over his head and his favorite word right now is No.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Thank you for…clarifying the situation, Marjorie. If there’s nothing else, you can leave.”

His secretary didn’t move. She looked at him like she was waiting for something and now that he was paying attention, he saw she was holding a file.  “Did you have a suggestion?”

Looking pleased with herself she responded, “Actually, yes, I did.”

“Well?”

She set the file on his desk and flipped it open. He looked down at the first page and raised an eyebrow, “What am I looking at here?”

“This,” she responded pulling out the top set of papers and spreading them out, “is the employee file and background check for Daniel J. Fenton, an intern that started in our engineering department about 4 months ago. He has one sibling, two parents and several close friends he regularly meets with. His current supervisor has nothing but good things to say about him and reports he gets along well with all his coworkers.”

She set out the next set of papers, neatly arranging them on the desk to be easily seen. “These are newspaper articles and screenshots of social media posts regarding a small town vigilante locally known as Phantom. The same small town, Mr. Fenton is from coincidentally. Also coincidentally, Phantom made his first appearance only a few weeks after Mr. Fenton was involved in a minor accident in his parent’s home laboratory when he was 14, the medical records for the incident are included.”

“Hmm,” Lex said observing several photos of Phantom and a younger Fenton arranged in order of similar poses and facial expressions and printed out side by side.

“Finally,” she said handing him the last set of papers directly, “this would be a report from the lab Mr. Fenton works in from an incident that happened yesterday. A test with a new protype went wrong and started a fire. Everyone evacuated per protocol when the alarms went off but one of the other interns was working on a programming issue off to the side of the lab while wearing headphones and didn’t hear the alarm or notice the fire. Mr. Fenton noticed his absence and returned to the lab to get him out.” She stopped talking and let him look at the last several pages in the file, a series of photographs of the lab.

“Is this ice?”

“Yes, it is. It’s several inches thick and covers half of the lab. It completely put out the fire leaving minimal damage.”

“This machine was moved?”

“It was. It was very close to the flames and would have required replacement if exposed to extreme heat or cold. That particular piece of equipment also weighs several thousand pounds and was bolted to the floor.”

Lex read through everything in detail then clasped his hands under his chin and stared at the photo of Daniel Fenton for several moments before turning back to his waiting secretary.

“Have HR send Mr. Fenton up. I’d like to offer him a promotion.”