#but hey at least i was writing

[synthetickitsune]

today marks the first time in my whole life that i’ve filled an entire notebook and it feels strangely satisfying

[buttercupshands]

Sketch dump of month old sketches I forgot to post

[elv-arts]

I put him in hl2 hope that's alright lol. Hl1 is his brother's territory I decided. Mostly I wanted him to beat the shit out of a metrocop :)

He'll probably be fine. He's survived his life so far including one end of the world and his nerd brother's mad science antics. What's a little more of the same old bullshit?

I was just gonna do one or two doodles cuz I couldn't think of much. But then i was having fun :)

@bbg100

[karalovesallthegirls]

Kara has always dreaded the day she’d meet her soulmate. 

There’s relief in knowing she has one, of course. The person meant for her didn’t die with Krypton. That’s something! Even still, it’s hard to feel excited for the moment they meet, because that’s the moment Kara will hurt them. She’s had their exclamation of pain inked into her skin for as long as she’s been on Earth. In some ways it’s better. Most people have phrases like “good morning��� or “hold the door please” as their soulmate’s first words. They have to endure hundreds of almosts, breath held just in case that stranger really is the one. Kara won’t have to do that. Her words are far too distinct.

It's agony, thinking about how their meeting will go. She spends years imagining every possible scenario, each one more painful than the last, yet the day it happens she barely even registers it. The words wash right over her, drowned out by the loud crack as her hand makes sudden contact with a stranger's face. The telltale crunch of contact shocks her. She hadn't registered anyone was there during her dramatic retelling, otherwise she would have kept her gestures small. She wouldn't have flung her hand out with such force.

The woman she's hit is hunched over, clutching at her face. She gasped loud and sharp when it hit, and now she's just wheezily breathing in shock. Kara can see blood starting to drip down her wrist.

“Did you," the woman gasps, and her voice sounds wet. "Did you just break my nose?” Kara wants to die.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I am so sorry!”

People are looking at them and the woman keeps cursing under her breath and Kara really, really doesn’t know what to do. Her hands hover uselessly over the hunched figure, desperate to soothe but scared to touch in a moment like this. “I didn’t mean to – I was telling a story and I got too excited with my hands I guess, I didn’t see you there. Are you- can I-”

She looks to Alex for guidance, but she’s just staring at the interaction with a wide-eyed wonder. Typically her sister knows what to do in a scary situation, but now she’s looking just as clueless. They’re both barely awake at this point – it’s six in the morning and they’ve been at this airport terminal since midnight, miserably watching their red eye flight push into a mid-day departure. They’re both half-delirious, which is fun when you’re goofing off but less so when you’ve just broken a stranger’s nose. 

And then it hits her. The words she’s carried on her arm for so many years are tingling, she realizes, and they’ve been tingling from the second her skin met the girl’s. 

Did you did you just break my nose?

“Oh wow,” Kara says, dumbfounded. “It’s you.” The woman falls silent. She must be realizing too Kara thinks as she fumbles with her sleeve, pushing it up enough to show her inked arm. The woman's eyes drop to the tattoo that's brought such shame to Kara for so long. She feels her eyes like a touch. “I – I’m so happy to meet you! I’m so sorry it happened like this.” She laughs and it sounds strained. Her hands are shaking. The woman doesn't look up from her arm.

Even hunched over in pain, it's clear the woman is beautiful. Important, even, considering how she's dressed. She's dressed like she's en route to lead a business conference, her tight black skirt and matching blazer scream business professional. Though the effects are tampered a bit by the splattering of blood that’s dripped down her white blouse. Kara wonders how old she is to be dressed like that. She must be older to look like that. At nearly nineteen, Kara has never had anything more than a graduation to dress nicely for, and even then she wore her stained dress pants. This woman - her soulmate - must be much older than her, which feels strange to think. She looks Kara's age, maybe even younger. If not for how clearly tailored to her body her clothes are, she'd almost look like she was playing dress up.

Kara feels self-conscious then, sharply aware of how she must look to her soulmate. As smart as it felt to come to the airport in pajamas for her all-night flight, standing in rubber duck pajama pants while trying to have a conversation with her goddess of a soulmate did little for Kara's confidence.

When Kara’s eyes finally track back up to her face, she finds sharp green ones staring back. They're the prettiest eyes she's ever seen, and they don't seem interested in looking away. That's fine with her - she's more than content to stare right back.

It's only the soft plop of blood hitting tile that draws her attention back to her crime, and she can see the way the woman's hands have become covered in blood. "Oh gosh, here - let me…”  Kara fumbles in her backpack for a moment with no clear plan. All she knows is she has to do something to fix this. She fumbles about before pulling out a clean t-shirt. “Here. For the-” She holds it out to the girl and gestures at her own face. Slowly, like she’s scared Kara might grab her or something, the woman takes the offered shirt. She wipes the blood from her face and hands, dabbing beneath her nose. The bleeding seems to have stopped, at least, and the shirt helps contain what's escaped. Watching a stranger wipe blood on her high school band t-shirt shouldn’t thrill Kara as much as it does, and yet.

Kara laughs again, the sound nervous and high-pitched, before taking a step towards her. Her soulmate’s eyes go wide, tracking her movements, and Kara's heart clenches when she steps away. The rapid race of her soulmate's heart beats into Kara's ear - she can literally hear her fear. She holds her hands up in surrender, stepping back to where she’d been before. The last thing she wants is for her to be afraid. “Does it hurt?” she asks, and her soulmate shakes her head no. “That’s good. That’s good. I- uh." She has nothing more to say, and her soulmate's certainly not contributing. Kara’s palms are sweating. She hasn’t sweat since she was thirteen, but one look from this person has her rubbing her hands on her pajama pants like a middle schooler at a dance.

The woman finishes wiping up and lets her arms fall, blessing Kara with her first real look at her face. Bloodied and skittish, she’s beautiful in a way Kara can hardly comprehend, in a way she could never imagine. Kara's pretty sure she's blushing now for some reason, and she has to flex her toes to be sure she’s still touching the ground. “My name’s Kara,” she says, and then gestures over her shoulder. “That’s my sister Alex. We’re flying home for winter break. Midvale - Midvale is home for us. Where- where are you flying to?”

The woman stares and stares, and Kara's starting to panic thinking she'd given her soulmate a head injury that's muted her somehow, when at last the woman speaks just barely above a whisper.

“Home,” she says. It feels like her heart might burst just from hearing that one stilted word. Kara wants to hear a thousand more, wants to hear nothing else for the rest of her life.

“That’s awesome. W-where’s home for you?” The woman's lip trembles as she opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.

 “I’m sorry,” she says, and then throws the t-shirt at Kara’s face. 

Kara fumbles catching it, distracted by the shock and gross factor of having a blood-soaked shirt hurled at her face, and it takes her far too many precious seconds to realize her soulmate is gone. Bewildered, Kara looks around before just catching sight of her vanishing around the corner, high heels and racing heart clattering away. She looks at Alex. Alex waves at her, frantic. “Go!” Alex yells, and Kara takes off.

Pretending to be a human has never been harder than it is while chasing after her soulmate. Normal human pace - especially what's acceptable at an airport - is not fast enough for this, not when the woman has already gotten so far ahead. Kara must look ridiculous, bursting into sprints only to trip suddenly into a walk over and over again, her ears locked on to the thudding heartbeat and faint whispers of her soulmate mumbling, “crap crap crap crap,” ahead.

Kara’s thankful they’re in an airport, at least. Her soulmate can’t just run outside, and Kara is fine embracing the romcom trope of following her love onto the plane. Her soulmate stops moving ahead and Kara speeds up, nearly wiping out twice tripping over luggage and small children. Her heart is in her throat as she clears the corner her soulmate is behind and pushes her way into the door she's passed through. All the wind knocks out of her lungs then when she sees her again. The woman looks up at her in shock, as if she didn't think Kara would chase her. As if Kara would just let her go. With a visible gulp, her soulmate flees around a corner and disappears out of sight. Kara manages a single step forward before a body blocks her way, and she looks up to see a massive security guard staring down at her.

“Membership card, please.”

Kara tries to peer around him. He steps in her way, cutting her vision off. Her soulmate led her into some private place you can't just walk into, she realizes, glancing around at the sleek appearance and exclusive atmosphere. “I- uh, left my card in my other bag,” she says, gesturing back over her shoulder. She can hear her soulmate’s breathing and it's all she can focus on. She’s right there. Just out of sight. Kara is so close. “I’m afraid you need your card to enter the fly lounge,” he says sternly. He starts pushing gently at her, trying to nudge her back out of the sliding glass door she’s come in. Kara almost forgets to let him move her. “I- I’m sorry, someone I need to talk to just went in there and I-” She stops in the doorway, hand firm on the wall. She can hear the way the guard huffs against her solid pressure. She’s not acting very human right now and she knows it.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, ma’am," he says, pushing more forcefully against her. Forceful enough that she knows she has to move even as all her instincts war against it. “Can- can I buy a membership? Like a day pass or something?”

The guard looks over at the front desk, making eye contact with a woman who looks like she would rather watch Kara be flayed alive than allowed another step inside.

“A day membership is $189 plus tax,” she whines out in a nasally voice, tone making clear she already knows Kara won’t be affording that. Which is accurate. Kara barely has enough to buy a meal. 

Looks like her soulmate is rich, then.

The man nudges her back again and a flash of panic echoes through her chest. For a moment, she envisions herself throwing him out the open door, tossing aside anything or anyone that tries to keep her from her future. But she’s already scared her soulmate enough for one day, so she smiles with forced bashfulness and allows herself to be walked back out of the lounge.

The frosted glass door marked High Flyers Club Lounge shuts her out mockingly. But it’s fine! Eventually her soulmate’s flight time will be here and she’ll have no choice but to come out and face her. Kara just has to be patient. (Kara hates being patient.)

She takes a seat against the wall across from the lounge entrance. Her glasses rest low on her nose as she stares her soulmate, soaking in every inch of her as she paces in the luxurious lounge. Her heart is racing, she seems on the edge of a panic attack, and Kara wants desperately to be in there with her talking her down. But she can’t, so she’s left to watch – at least until the girl steps into the private restroom. She stops watching after that. Instead, she settles down to listen to the comforting beat of her soulmate’s heart, closer now than it’s ever been.

Her mind wanders as she waits, mentally reviewing every moment of their interaction. Considering where she failed, where she succeeded. Making lists about what to say to her next. She never got her name, for one thing, and she still doesn’t know where her home is. There’s so much for her to learn.

Her mental meandering is so consuming that it takes her a bit to realize the heartbeat has moved farther away. At first she thinks her soulmate is just moving around the club, but no- she’s moving away from the airport.  A quick glance through walls shows her that her soulmate isn’t in the club anymore. The heartbeat is elevating, she realizes, and Kara runs to the glass wall just in time to see the plane - small, private, with an apparent access point from within the lounge – take off. 

Horror and confusion overwhelm her, bringing tears to her eyes. This doesn't make sense. Why would she just leave without saying a word? Why would her soulmate do that? It's almost unbearable, the pain of it. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, face pressed to the glass, listening as the heartbeat grows quieter and quieter before vanishing all together.

Kara learns a lot about grief after that. 

She knew a lot already – far more than any one person should ever know – but that grief carried a different weight. The loss of her people wasn't a choice by them. They didn't want to die. The loss of her soulmate is its own beast, sharp and cruel in her heart, because this time the person she mourns chose to abandon her. Her soulmate chose to leave. She saw Kara that morning and decided that one look was enough, that Kara wasn't worth any more of her time. She left her there with nothing but a bloody t-shirt and a thousand questions. Kara never even learned her name.

She goes through the stages – she feels her anger burning out in her eyes, feels the sorrow take hold. She denies it, she bargains with everyone, anyone. She calls the Flyer’s Club, tries calling the FAA. She tracks flight logs and makes cold calls and still finds nothing at all. She writes about it on soulmate websites and Medium articles, casting a wide net so that someday when – if, her mind reminds her. if if if - her soulmate ever looks she’ll be able to find her.  

Time dulls the sharpness, though, and the years shift that rejected feeling into a more muted anger. Kara doesn't care about the love lost. She doesn't care if the person is her other half. All she cares about is the anger. Finding her feels more like a hunt than a quest for love – she’s got a lot to say to the other woman when they finally meet again. She just wants one more meeting, that’s all. Just enough time to tell her exactly where she can go. Kara doesn’t need a soulmate, after all. Her life is full of love and joy and adventure, and she doesn’t need another person to complete her. She graduates college with a degree in English, minor in Journalism – her attempts to track down her soulmate really ignite the journalistic bug in her, and with Clark’s constant encouragement it feels inevitable. She moves to a big city despite her small-town fears and she gets a job almost no one survives. Kara is thriving.

It almost shocks her, then, the way her heart trips over itself when she sees her again.

They’re watching the trial, her and Alex, and Alex is halfway through a lecture on how she’d always known Lex Luthor was evil by the way he wore his pants – (“Good guys don’t wear their pants that high, Kara, it’s common sense.”) – when Kara's nerves jolt like a lightning bolt has rushed through her. Her gasp is so sharp Alex screams almost in sympathy. 

“What? What is it?” Alex yells at her, looking around for some danger lurking nearby. Kara tumbles to the floor practically crawling to the television screen. Someone new has taken the stand, someone she'd recognize anywhere.

“Alex,” she says, jamming her finger against the somewhat grainy image projected on her television. “It's her.” “What!” “My soulmate!" Kara knows it like she knows herself, even after all this time. She looks different. Six years of struggle sit clear in her hard gaze, her mouth twisted into solemn resignation. She looks almost casual on the stand, sitting comfortably despite the eyes of the world on her. Like it's just a regular conversation. Like she’s not about to help send her brother to prison for life. “Lena Luthor, sister of the defendant” reads the helpful banner beneath her grim face. Even after everything, Kara is struck by her. She's breathtaking. Kara kind of hates her for it. “Hold on, that’s- you barely even saw her when you met! You don’t know for sure.” Alex sounds desperate, which is fair. The younger sister of the man who tried to kill Superman is certainly not an ideal soulmate for someone like Kara, but it doesn't matter. It's her. “I’m sure,” she says, and feels the truth of it deep in her bones.

A giggle hits her then that's so inappropriate for the moment it makes her feel crazy, but she can't help it. As Lena Luthor begins to explain the piles of evidence she’s gathered against her brother, Kara giggles away. She feels almost drunk on it, smug and satisfied. “Found you,” she says, almost like a taunt. She drags her finger over the screen, feeling the static of her ancient television biting back at her as she caresses Lena Luthor's face. The anger that’s long settled inside of her seems to reignite with every charged word Lena speaks against her brother, with every glance she makes at the camera. She can feel Alex’s nervous energy behind her but she doesn’t care. The politics of this, the implications - none of it matters to Kara. What matters is she has a name, and she has a general location. She's so close she can practically taste it. “See you soon, soulmate,” Kara whispers, and for a second it feels almost like Lena is staring right back.

[mellosdrawings]

Now I want to see the losers club. :)

Are you referring to the ACTUAL Losers' Club (aka the Stephen King's Losers Club) or my band of completely unlucky morons ? Whichever the case, you're getting more N2 Squad x)

Here's some random doodles I did to try and get their dynamics for an attempt at fanfic.

(With a very self-indulgent side of Jamil & Ruggie)

[cozylittleartblog]

9th annual nick valentines day (ft. soup again) + doodle i made last year that i forgot about, from when bethesda gave us that free update

[enarien]

hopping on that @kyri45 train ♥

I cannot do amazing art like so many people in here so all that's left is to proclaim my love for shadowpeach bio parents au in text♥♥♥

last few months i've been traveling from one hospital to another and this comic brought me great comfort. The beautiful story and amazing fluffy artstyle is just so heartwarming.

Thank you so much for being in this fandom kyri!!!

[meamiki]

Happy Anniversary In Stars and Time!! Have some Friend Quest based drawings :D

(These have specific quote picks related to them! And there's also a long ramble on why I like those specific quotes below if interested)

(And by long, I mean roughly 2k+ words of proper ramble total, so be warned before clicking keep reading this link right here to the rb!!)

[s-nebul0sa]

Lena injures herself in the lab and requires stitches. Kara gets the call and goes into a worried frenzy and rushes to Lena’s side. As Kara dotes on her as Lena gets the stitches, Lena plays it off that it’s just a scratch and child’s play and starts brainstorming new tech for instances that requires stitches. Typical genius CEO and golden retriever gal story with fluff and romance 😄

Stitches

(Read below or on AO3)

The pain does not immediately register. The erlenmeyer flask that was in Lena’s hand just a moment ago has exploded into at least a hundred pieces. One of which liked Lena’s hand so much that it want to be inside it.

Flabbergasted, Lena stares at the offending piece of glass jutting out from her skin. Red welling up along its edges and slowly forming rivers down, dripping on the floor to mix with the solution that was previously contained inside the flask.

Shit.

At least there does not seem to be any glass in her face or anywhere else in her body. Her hand has a few small scrapes but those are just flesh wounds. Instinctively, Lena lifts her hand so it’s at head-height and both above her heart and her elbow, a trick used to slow down bleeding.

With practiced eyes, Lena scans the laboratory for any other glass pieces that might pose a future risk. There are some dangerous materials stored here, and though they should be locked away in safety boxes, it would not be the first time that someone made a mistake and left something out.

She does not notice anything that should not be out. Most of the glass is on the floor, either having hit nothing or having hit the hard wall and work bench and made their way down from there. Nothing to worry about.

Well, except that one piece stuck in her hand.

And now that she has determined there are no other threats, she starts to worry about herself. Lena never does well when she worries about herself.

With trembling hands, she wrestles with the end of her lab coat to get her phone out of her jean pocket. She almost loses, but determination wins. With her left thumb hovering over the screen, Lena thinks of what to do. This is not a 911 situation. There is just a little blood, not a lot. And it is not that bad.

Part of her just wants to fix it herself. Drive herself to a doctor or even just stitch up herself. But for the latter, she has neither the skill nor the steady hand at the moment. And the former seems like a very bad idea with only one hand functional and the other having glass sticking out of it. If she were to make one wrong move, the glass might be pushed further into her hand and do even more damage. Lena breathes out deeply.

Okay, first things first.

She tests her right hand. Carefully, she tries moving each finger and seeing if she can still feel them. They all seem to function as well as can be expected, so that is a relief. Hopefully no really deep damage. Or nerve damage, the worst kind.

With that settled, she focusses back on her phone. Debating for a minute whether she should worry her girlfriend, she ends up deciding Kara will be even more worried – or worse, hurt – if she does not call her immediately.

She pulls up Kara’s contact information and presses dial, then clamps the phone between her ear and shoulder. Lena walks over to the sink as she waits for Kara to pick up.

Kara answers quickly. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m okay but can you come pick me up and fly me to the DEO or the emergency room?” Lena asks casually, as she slowly takes off her lab coat. Thankfully, the piece in her hand is not so big that her hand no longer fits through her sleeve.

“What?!” Lena hears the worry in Kara’s voice through the phone followed by the telltale whoosh of Kara taking off in flight.

“I may have gotten slightly cut in the lab and probably need some stitches but it’s nothing life threatening,” Lena says in an attempt to take away Kara’s worry. Not that she feels like it is working. Lena turns back to the sink and cautiously washes her hands, carefully applying soap and hissing as it stings in the cut.

“Lab left or right?” Kara asks as Lena picks up that the wind has stopped ringing in Kara’s microphone. She must have landed.

“Left, but wait outside. I’m just going to finish washing my hands and I’ll meet you there.”

She hardly gets a chance to get some paper towels to dry her skin before the laboratory door flies open.

“Wait outside?!” Lena hears Kara yell both through the phone and the open door.

Lena looks up at her girlfriend, worry etched in her eyes. The crinkle between her brows even more pronounced than when Lena beat her at chess that one time.

“Yes, wait outside. This is a lab, Kara,” Lena scolds, but she cannot keep it up for long and walks to the safety of the superhero.

“Lena, that looks painful,” Kara points out when she notices the glass in Lena’s hand.

“That is why you need to fly me to someone who can fix it,” Lena responds, locking the door behind her when they leave. She will have to get her spill cleaned up later. She was not working with anything dangerous today so the biggest risk is posed by the broken glass and it is Friday evening and her personal lab so she has plenty of time to make sure it is cleaned up. Nobody is allowed in there without her explicit permission anyway.

(The whole story was too long, so the second half is in my next reblog.)

[coolnonsenseworld]

Samurai and Ninja in crappy pics because December here is under a constant cloud and I just want y'all to see them all golden and cute without learning how to take aesthetic pictures 🥴 💙❤️😆🥰

linktr.ee/Mezzy

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

part 16 - but I know where to start

“Feeling my way through the darkness, guided by a beating heart. I can’t tell where the journey will end, but I know where to start.” -Wake Me Up by Avicii

Regent Masterlist Part 15

Was it a cop-out to summon Jazz back to the Far Frozen? Yes. Did Danny particularly care? Nope! 

Jason was comfortable, propped up with a book Ghostwriter who had popped by to personally deliver. How the ghost had known about Jason Phantom wasn’t going to question, but he suspected GW kept an eye on the bookworms that passed through the Realms- or at least those close to the “Royal family”. Phantom wasn’t much for reading, not unless it was space-related, but he enjoyed listening to the Liminal man reading out loud. He had a brash voice, accented with a cadence like those from Crime Alley, but it only underscored the passion he held for reading. Phantom didn’t interrupt him once, not even when the halfa pulled out his ecto-phone and texted Ellie. 

(His little sister was in Kansas, spending time with another clone she’d literally run into.) 

Almost another full day's cycle passed before Phantom realized Jason had fallen back asleep, a book resting open on his broad chest and soft snores coming from the man. 

Yeah, he could see how he and Jazz fit together so well. 

There was just something about the Once-Revenant, a part of what made him Jason, that resonated with the Phantom. It’s what made him talk to the man as Red Hood, feel comfortable enough to stay in his company for so long, trust him with his older sister- the person who raised him. 

(Spent her birthday money to get him those cheap plastic glow-in-the-dark stars.) 

(Taught him how to read.) 

(Held him as the nightmares of his death shook him to his core.) 

(Did not fear him.) 

(Not as Phantom, Danny, or Dan.)

(Loves him.) 

(Mourns him.) 

(He would never tell her, but he understood how Dan could succumb to grief.)

(Jazz was his.) 

(His first friend, his true mother, his rock.) 

(She wouldn’t have claimed Regency without that tie.) 

Remix & Original chat 

Remix: Lol hows weenie Original:   jasons x3 ur size pipsqeak                    Remix:  ur point?  Original:  lol hes ok                                 frosty says he got hurt wth shrpnel                        new healed core + shrapnel = bad time Remix:  sucks 2 b him  Original:               so tru        Whre r u? Remix: omw 2 spain barcelona Original: ooh send pics if u need me call Remix: pics or nay gotcha txt u l8r luv u  Original: love u 2

Safely back in the living Realm and tucked away in Jason’s apartment, Jazz and Danny tried to investigate the bomb- unfortunately there was nothing for them to do but wait. 

On the upside, the Justice League was about to hit the UN full force with all the subtlety of a tsunami and who had front row seats to the drama? 

Yep, the Regent.  Jazz wasn’t exactly thrilled that her presence was requested, even though it was on the path to the desired outcome the Nightingale siblings had fought for, but both her soulmate boyfriend and little brother would be by her side as support. 

The Birds and the Bats Group Chat

Zombie: I lived bitch Spoiler-Alert: Jason!  Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing!  Blood_Heir: Todd. Zombie: don’t sound too excited there demon brat.  Blood_Heir: Never.  Sleep_When_Im_Dead: Where have you been? Zombie: Stayed overnight at my Docs for observation.  Fly-Like-A-Dick: For three days? Blood_Heir: Fail to find that humorous Todd.  Zombie: wasn’t meant to be a joke brat.  I was actually at my Docs.  Zombie: Got a shovel talk from my girlfriends little brother too.                                     Spoiler-Alert:  Whoa GIRLFRIEND!!!! 😱 Jason!  Why is this the first were hearing this??? Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing!!!!!! Quiet_Dancer: 🤗  Zombie:  At least Cass and Dickiebird are happy for me                                    Spoiler-Alert:  Ecstatic! But details! Now.                                                      Zombie: No.                                              Fly-Like-A-Dick: Is she a redhead??? Sleep_When_Im_Dead:  Jasmine Nightingale.                                                      Zombie: Babs.                                               Oracle_of_Gotham:  On it.  [member Sleep_When_Im_Dead has been blocked from the group.]  Spoiler-Alert:  too late!!!!!! Cass  with me! Quiet_Dancer: 🫡 Oracle_of_Gotham: DENIED Batdad:  Welcome back Jaylad.                                                        Zombie:                                           Old man       You and I need to have a talk with words                                              Fly-Like-A-Dick: battle stations everyone!!!

Council of Uncaged Birds

Queen_Regent: Ellie, I want you to meet Jason.  Officially meet him.  WanderingPrincess: eh??? temp said wasnt srs Queen_Regent: Danny No InfiniteStarPrince: Danny YES Frosty said they are  soulmates!!!!!! WanderingPrincess: 🤯😱 wha th fuck!!!1 Queen_Regent: language!  WanderingPrincess: ENGLISH imma get a shovel gotta undead weenie 2 bury.

Template. [user InfiniteStarPrince has left the chat]  WanderingPrincess: coward Queen_Regent: I have many regrets.  WanderingPrincess: u luv us 👻

Lady & Knight chat Lady: Jay remember when I told you I wanted you to meet Ellie?  Knight: She’s bringing a shovel isn’t she.  Lady: I love how brilliant you are.  Knight: I aim to please. 

Lady & Knight chat Knight: you patrolling tonight? Lady: wasnt planning on it Knight: wanna meet me? Lady: same time same place? Knight: you know it

The abolishment of the Anti-Ecto Acts officially happened at three pm on a dreary Gotham Tuesday. Jazz was cuddled with Jason on his couch, dozing off to his heartbeat as he read Pride and Prejudice for the thousandth time. The comfortable silence they had wrapped themselves in only occasionally broken by Jason turning a page was completely shattered when Jazz’s phone rang with the Ghostbusters theme song. 

“Danny?” Jazz answered surprised, “School isn’t out yet, what’s wrong?” She was greeted by Danny’s heaving cries as he replied. 

“Batman, he- he did it!” Danny sobbed, “He saved us.” 

It clicked then. The Dark Knight had completed the task he was entrusted with by a Spirit of Protection, the Once and Future Star King, and unknowingly kept the promise a ghost made to a young Jasmine Fenton. 

One day my son will stop this. All of this. You only need to be strong. Take care of yourself and your brother. I promise. 

She had waited years for the promise to be fulfilled, the sworn promise of the dead to a living child. Jasmine was a patient soul, but she had still been a child that night in Gotham. 

(The Drs. Fenton believing the stories about a ghostly vigilante patrolling the streets, a never aging child by their side.) (Dragging their children with them. ) (Hungry and cold.) (A dead man who swore his son would end their torment one day.)

(She should’ve known it wouldn’t come fast enough to save Danny.) 

How was she to know the ghost was speaking of the Realms inhabitants, not the abused and neglected children of Ghost Hunters? How was she to know that the hope such a promise kindled wasn’t hers to keep?  Jason wrapped his arms around her, the book set aside and her phone gently taken from her grasp to be put on speaker so they could both talk to her little brother. Danny had dissolved from heaving sobs to muffled hiccups, seemingly now that he’d shared the news with his sister. 

“He really did,” she muttered. “He really did it.” 

(The furry fucker actually did it.) (She’d known that he was going to try, but humans are stubborn creatures.)

A/N: Hi! Welcome to an update for the Regent. Just to be fully transparent with each of my readers - The Regent is still on Hiatus.

I have deleted so much of my writing because I don't like the flow/dialogue/pacing. Original ending thrown out and rewritten twice- still don't care for it. Who knew something other than Angst would be so difficult.

(Not me!)

Having said that, this entry is of course beta'd by the wonderful @meditating-cat who has put up with my random messages.

(You are amazing!)

(In all honesty, I wish I could just skip right to the ending because at least I know 100% I can get it just right....eventually.)

Thanks for reading and happy easter!

[adreamfromnevermore]

Ok ok, but hear me out on a Superbat AU

Clark is 14 when Luthor learns the truth about his origin. He goes missing 3 days after school finishes for the summer. His parents search for him relentlessly, for years they beg for the return of their son. But despite the search parties and the press conferences no one comes forward and Clark is never found. A missing persons case that haunts Smallville for the years to come.

On the eve of Clark's 18th birthday Superman appears. Hovering over Metropolis in a pitch black uniform. Martha recognizes her son instantly, and watches in horror as he sweeps through the streets with a single minded focus. He returns to Lexcorp with a thief clutched in one hand and the same eerily blank face he'd had in every clip that had been captured of him.

Luthor heralded him as a superhero, thanked him publicly for returning the thief to Lexcorp to be prosecuted. No one notices when the thief disappears, and though they ask where the Superman goes when he isn't hanging in the sky above Metropolis there is no one who seems to have an answer.

Lexcorp tells the world that they should trust this being that has come to help. That he has shown only kindness towards them. That if he goes after someone, it is only because they must have done something terrible to deserve it.

In Metropolis Superman haunts the golden city, hangs in the air high above them and listens to Luthors orders in his ears. He has never wanted to hurt someone, but he has no choice. He is Luthor's favorite weapon, this he knows. And if he strays, Luthor will know.

Across the bay a Court stirs, they have always worked from the shadows. Hidden in Gothams walls and with their hands in every one of Gothams pots. Metropolis has a hero hanging high above their head, but the Court has done business with the man who pulls it's strings and they believe this is something they can work together on.

So the Court calls for a meeting and they plot their own path.

3 months after Superman debuts the Voice of the Court meets with Lex Luthor and offers a deal.

A decade before Superman debuts the Waynes die, their son is never found. It is a tragedy that haunts Gotham for a decade. It is a warning. The Wayne family has long stood apart from the Court, but Thomas and Martha got in the way. Thomas and Martha hampered the Court's goals, and so they had to go. Their son was a warning.

And now, their son is the warning.

The Talon stalking from shadowed perch. The greatest the Court has ever produced. And so they send their greatest weapon alongside the Voice of the Court and a deal is struck.

Superman meets a Talon. They see another made a weapon, and they begin to wonder.

Must they always be weapons?

[thelonelyshore-if]

Somebody stop me before I conceptualize individual titles and mini summaries for some of Croft's books.

[disappearinginq]

I really wish I could be convinced that more people would be interested in non-ship stuff for fandoms I'm in.

Look, we all know we write for ourselves. I get it. I do. But my desire (ability) to finish things is hinged on feedback. My two longest fics that I wrote the fastest were because of audience engagement. And because I knew I had people I respected and liked reading, and I wanted them to enjoy the read, I wrote better.

Now I feel like I'm just stuck in No Man's Land of fandom, and while I have like a dozen things half finished, they never seem to actually BE finished because if the audience is me, then I know how it ends. There's not much point writing it down.

So this is basically my To Do List.

The Rookie - I just don't care about what 90% of the fandom cares about

1. Series of one shots that establish Angela and Tim's BFF status that may or may not lean Tim aspec because I'm me.

2. Pre series flashbacks to Tim in his time in service when he survives an airstrike that kills two of his friends and almost kills him.

3. Trauma Tim post season 6, because in rapid succession, he loses his job on metro, he witnesses his old team die in a way eerily similar to the way he was almost killed in the airstrike, had a friend commit suicide in front of him after confessing to being dirty, gets accused of being dirty himself, and is again almost killed in close quarter combat (among other things that will remain unmentioned here)

Slow Horses

1. Do not ask me why but I love the idea that Lamb potentially met River was he was a kid because he had to work closely with David Cartwright and River is always where he's not supposed to be

2. River goes missing, and for once, not his fault. Lamb has to come to terms that just because he pretends not to care, doesn't mean anyone buys it

3. Post season 4, somebody finds out that River is the last remaining son of Frank's assassin cult, and it goes about as well as can be expected. I fully intend to have Lamb use this line: "trying to detain you is like trying to nail jello to a tree".

Magnum PI (yes, I still work on these)

1. Finish Wrong Side. I actually have like another 10-15k words on it, but it's not in order or complete scenes, but it does include Thomas’s recovery and discovery that Hannah is the one who sold them out

2. I have like 6 other chapters to Bad Things Happen that I half wrote but then retired the card

3. Crossover with MacGyver because I thought Mac could use some down time in Hawaii after season 4 and the last half of season 3

Tracker 1. Colter goes missing during one of his cases, and I borrow heavily from an episode of Lethal Weapon wherein Colter will be held hostage in an illegal drug trial that he stumbled into and now finds himself an unwilling participant, and I drag Russell into it because that is how big brothers work

Hudson & Rex - honestly, I have the most written for this fandom, even though the fandom itself is pretty quiet, but it's most of a bingo card 1. Finish Oh The Weather Outside is Frightful because damn son it's been years

2. In no particular order, I have Bad Things Happen Bingo It's Not My Blood, Stitches, Caught in a Snare, Falls Through the Ice and three others that fit other prompts - a boating accident, Charlie finally finds himself at the bottom of a well (sort of) and completes his "Timmy and Lassie Scenario" bingo card, and where Charlie realizes he's developed claustrophobia after having a mine collapse on him, being locked in a freezer storage, almost crushed by a shipping container, buried alive, etc and gets stuck in an elevator with Jesse

[jalluzas-ferney]

I don’t think this is an unpopular opinions but lowkey fannon kailor is sm better than cannon kailor.

(Read the tags)

[mrspiastri]

as a member of piastrihive i’m so devastated about today’s race. but as a member of piastrihive who is also a fic writer i am gleefully opening a google document 😁