#but man my dude will never live that down

[wonderjanga]

Frenemies

Black Adam and Captain Marvel hate each other. It’s a well-known fact, or at least Black Adam hates Captain Marvel. To be honest, Marvel doesn’t really show much hatred towards him. So… yeah. Though, to be honest they’re more arch frenemies than enemies. But don’t worry, they’re still plenty enemies. This post is connected to the post about Marvel beating the shit out of Adam for not paying him back his five dollars. (I Want My Money post)

Mary: *in Marvel form* “Captain! Captain, you jerk, where are you?!” *looking for Billy*

Marvel and Adam: *drinking smoothies together on a rooftop*

Mary: “There you are- Why are you drinking smoothies with Adam?”

Marvel: “Why not?”

Mary: “Just yesterday, he slammed you through a bus.”

Black Adam: “It's in the past.” *sips smoothie*

Mary: “Is it though?”

Marvel: “Yeah.” *sips his smoothie*

She ended up joining them and got a smoothie of her own in the end. Surprisingly, when Adam isn’t trying to kill either of them, she’ll begrudgingly admit he’s okay to talk to. She doesn’t know how Billy’s so chill around him. (It’s because Billy is Billy “no danger awareness” Batson. I’ve seen the comic panels of him barely blinking at a murderer or something trying to kill him)

Marvel: “I gotta go early guys.” *stands up to leave*

GL(John Stewart): “Gotta date?”

Marvel: “Nope. Dinner with a friend”

Aquaman: “Ooooooh who? Bigfoot?”

Marvel: “I already told you, she prefers to be called Rhonda. And no. It’s Teth.” (Marvel and the Supernatural post)

GL: “Teth? Is that another hero?”

Marvel: “No. You guys know him as Black Adam.”

*silence*

Aquaman: “Is this a Batman-Catwoman situation?”

GL: “You’re never letting Bruce live that down are you?”

Marvel: “No? We’re just friends?”

GL: Wait but I thought he was your arch enemy?

Marvel: “…Yes.” *has never once thought of Adam as an arch enemy* (He once admitted this to Adam and uh… the guy wasn’t really happy. His hurt was like the equivalent of thinking someone’s your best friend, but they don’t think the same)

Aquaman: “Yet you can call him your friend and go out to dinner?”

Marvel: “Yes. But only sometimes. Right now we’re friends. Tomorrow, probably not.”

GL and Aquaman: *share looks* “Okay…?”

The JL thinks their frenemiship is strange. So does everyone else.

Marvel: “Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?” *punches him*

Black Adam: “Yes.” *kicks him*

Marvel: “Are you still bringing that Khandaq dish you mentioned?” *grabs and throws him*

Black Adam: *rushes over to tackle him* “If you even live to see tomorrow, yes!”

Junior: “DUDE ARE YOH SERIOUSLY TALKING ABOUT DINNER PLANS MID FIGHT??” *nearby nearly knocked out because earlier Adam delivered a foul punch to his stomach and sent him flying*

By the way, this isn’t some Uncle Adam type nonsense. Adam genuinely thinks Billy is just a hyperactive man child. As for why Teth chooses to spend his time with him every now and then? He’ll never know. (He doesn’t have any other friends. There’s also the fact the man child makes decent conversation. (Billy’s carrying most of the conversation))

[toxicanonymity]

Hey Boo,

I've been seeing Joelkemons making the rounds being the best kind of dude to have around when you're crying.

Is Stepdad is having very strong feelings about all of this too? I imagine of Raider (LOML) and NW are being so soft with us, something in stepdad might respond to our hopelessly impotent rage.

I'd love to see how he reacts.

Boy howdy, tho, if I could slip into the brothel and have a big ol' Joel-pile, that shit would fix me all the way.

Thank you so much for everything you do and are.

I hope you're taking care of yourself too.

-- Cupquake <3

black tuesday

JOEL x f!READER | 1000 words

WARNINGS: 18+. Election Night. ANGST. Tears. Fears. This is intended to be a cathartic fic with some comfort but please don't read if it could be traumatic. Allusions to reproductive rights, etc. Reader is angry, esp. at men, takes it out on joel a little. Joel is supportive. Reader dacryphilia, brief smut. STEPDAD AU but you don't need to know it, and the stepcest doesn't come up.

NOTES: Sweet Cupquake, you're welcome and thank you for always being so supportive. Poor stepdad, he's normally the one needing comforting, isn't he? Yes, he has strong feelings about all this. This doesn't fit neatly in the AU timeline just roll with it. My brief post on the election is here. This will most likely be my only fic that overtly acknowledges the u.s. election. DO NOT INTERACT: TRUMP VOTERS, ANTI-CHOICE PEOPLE, MINORS.

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment watching the news while Joel makes dinner and a huge mess in the kitchen. When the early votes are counted, we’ll see a lot more blue, they said. No, actually. Not really. You turn the volume way down so you can barely hear it. 

“Pasta’s ready,” Joel announces in a weak, sing-song voice. 

You remain on the floor. Your breathing is shallow, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Joel comes into the living room but doesn’t sit down. He stands with his arms crossed. His neck veins are bulging, his biceps are tense, his jaw clenches as he watches the screen. He’s pissed, he’s so angry watching this happen. He’s embarrassed to be a Texan. He thinks about all the women he knows. Embarrassed to be a man. 

He looks back and forth between the tv and you, and he sees your eyes are watery. He brings your glass of water from the kitchen, but you refuse it. He puts it down on the coffee table. Then, he picks up the remote control and turns off the tv. 

“Why’d you do that?” you snap. 

“It’s only makin’ ya sad,” Joel replies. “It’s still early, there’s time.” 

“Sad?? You think I’m sad?” Heat rises to your face. Your chest tightens.  

“Okay,” Joel acknowledges softly. “I can see you’re not just sad.” 

He sits down and tries to put his arm around you but you scoot over to face him. 

“All you men just go around blowing your loads everywhere and we’re the ones who have to deal with it, and you have the nerve to tell us how.” 

“I’d never tell you how to--you know that.”

“--I am so fucking tired of men talking.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and sits quietly next to you for a minute. It’s hard knowing there’s nothing he can do or say, but he’s not going to leave you unless you tell him to. 

He clears his throat and asks softly, “Would anything make ya feel better?”

“Only waking up from this nightmare.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. 

“I don’t wanna feel better,” you begin to cry. “I want it to not happen….Like, is this real life?” 

None of it feels real. Months ago, people in stupid red hats were carrying around actual sperm cups. The highest-profile rapist in the country called himself the father of fertility, and crowds of people cheered. He said “mass deportation” and people cheered more. And then half the country voted for these sick, twisted buffoons. 

“You want some space?” Joel asks. 

“No,” you protest tearfully.

He hesitantly brushes the back of your neck with his thumb. This time, you let him put his arm around you. 

You whisper, “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Sweetheart, it ain’t over. We got time.” 

You shake your head no, ‘cause you can feel it in your gut. 

Joel sits in silence for a moment, and you can’t see it, but he’s tearing up because he can feel you burning and he’s powerless. 

He holds you and strokes your back while you bury your face in his chest. He discreetly checks his new york times app and tries not to react out loud- it’s only getting worse. 

After a few minutes of silence, he whispers your name, and you respond, “mm?”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

You look up to see his cheeks wet, his hair messy. Your heart swells with affection. Affection and… gratitude? God, the bar is in hell. But to be fair, you really love him. You’re grateful for the man he is, not the one he isn’t. 

Desire begins to stir in your chest.

Joel presses a kiss onto your forehead, then lifts your chin, and you look at each other. He brushes away a tear from your cheek. With his own cheeks still wet, he swallows, and the emotional bob of his Adam’s apple sends a rush of arousal to your core. You put your hand on the back of his neck and pull him toward you for a kiss. 

Affection and relief floods your body. It’s temporary, of course, but you let yourself have this. You let the nightmare fade into a spicy dream. 

You straddle him and he pulls you close and moans into your mouth. You kiss him desperately and feel him harden under you. He hesitates and mutters, “sorry,” trying to read the room. He pushes your thighs back, trying to put some distance between you and his hard-on. 

“Stop,” you reply, then latch onto his mouth again. He breaks away and says, “Just don’t want ya to feel like I–” 

“Shut up,” you tell him, then scoot yourself closer, your crotch firmly planted on the warm, stiffening shape in his sweatpants. You grind your hips into him. He kisses you back with increased fervor, and moans into your mouth. Kissing passionately, your loins throb warmly together and your hips move in rhythm. 

You reach between the two of you and slide your hand down his sweatpants. You palm his leaking manhood. Pressing it against his tummy, you gently move the skin on his shaft, and  He groans.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and thrusts against your hand. 

You stand up to urgently take off your pj pants. 

His man-guilt is still eating at him. Squeezing his aching hard shaft, he lets out a moan, then weakly offers, “Are you sure you wanna…”

In response, you straddle him, hot and dripping against his bare arousal.  You slide against him, throbbing and ready. Then, as you slide his tip to your entrance, you warn him, “Get it while it’s on the table.” You sink down on him and he shudders. Then he thrusts upward and moans as he bottoms out.  

“My legs’ll be closed for business soon,”  you explain. 

He closes his eyes and breathes deep as your body accommodates his.  “Fair enough,” he answers thoughtfully, then opens his eyes. “Wait. Even if my face is the customer?” 

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NOTES: I actually wrote three Stepdad things, and chronologically, this is no. 2 of 3. The others aren't posted yet. The first one is a standalone pregnancy scare, nothing about the election (would've been before it). And the second one is a post-election talk about contraception.

My brief post on the election is here.

Thank you for reading. Please remember to take care of yourselves <33

[stanfordsweater]

i think it's interesting to say that we don't see dean vulnerable often because, especially in the early seasons but continuing to the end of the show, i feel like we see him vulnerable all the time-- we're granted the gift of being the camera all those times he's close to tears, a stand-out example being in what is and what should never be when we see him on his knees crying over fake!john's grave, but there are many many other examples of him being very vulnerable/cracked-open to the audience that i feel people do a real disservice to by forgetting.

right off the bat we see him vulnerable in the pilot when he talks about pursuing john and sam reminds him he's going back to school:

where he has to take a second and remind himself that he doesn't get sam back, because sam has a life, and dean collects himself but won't even look at sam beyond a derisive glance when he says "i'll take you home."

what is this moment if not planting the seeds for when dean later says, in shadow, that what he really wants is sam with him and his family back together?

SAM: I mean, what are you gonna do when it’s all over? DEAN: It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt. SAM: But there’s got to be somethin’ that you want for yourself— DEAN: Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam. SAM: Dude, what’s your problem? DEAN: Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh? I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place? SAM: ‘Cause Dad was in trouble. ‘Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom. DEAN: Yes, that, but it’s more than that, man. You and me and Dad—I mean, I want us… I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again. SAM: Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before. DEAN: (sadly) Could be. SAM: I don’t want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way.

and what is THIS moment if not dean being vulnerable? when he's reminded that the "something he wants for himself" is completely impossible because sam doesn't want it and dad left without a word by choice?

my best guess is that people don't read these moments as dean being vulnerable because he's turned away from sam-- in the pilot, he looks out the window and purses his lips and takes sam back to school. in shadow, he physically turns away from sam and grabs at the dresser and his expression shuts down when sam says no.

that doesn't mean that dean is necessarily angry or feeling possessive over sam, it's because dean can't show his vulnerability to sam (at this point in the show), because he has to be strong and he has to keep a lid on his problems or people die. deep down dean feels like wanting anything for himself is selfish and impossible. going back to what is and what should never be, that is the thesis of the entire episode: dean gets his deepest wish, and hundreds of people die. and he is broken over it.

DEAN All of them. Everyone that you saved, everyone Sammy and I saved. They're all dead. (...) It's like my old life is, is coming after me or something. Like it doesn't want me to be happy. Course I know what you'd say. Well, not the you that played softball but… "So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people's lives, no contest." Right? But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero? (begins to cry while talking) What about us, huh? What, Mom's not supposed to live her life, Sammy's not supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad? (pause) It's… (Dean's lips tremble. Silence. We hear the sky rumbling. Tears begin to falls on DEAN's cheek.) Yeah…

but where my sam-as-POV theory about why people keep saying dean isn't vulnerable dies is that we see these moments, so how do other people interpret them? is it just a case of not remembering? do some people think i'm totally off-base with this?

[unavailableapple]

I wish to only be surrounded by women but it just isn’t possible the way I live my life currently. Yes I’m a student so I have male teachers and classmates, yes I’m a dependent so I have male family members, yes I work for and with men, etc. But I am also, most unfortunately of all, an optimist.

I meet men who are kind and smart and interesting and funny. We immediately connect interests and become friends. I feel seen in this friendship. I feel right. Maybe he’ll even stand up for me against another man sexualizing me or being sexist towards me. Maybe he’ll say, “She’s not interested dude, leave her alone.” And I think wow, what a kind man. Men are so rarely kind.

But it always comes back to it, to me in his apartment because I thought it was safe, to his bed, to his lips, to his arms forcing me down, to the rancid smell of him. And then it’s, “You led me on.” Because I hung out with him and read comic books he gave me like all the boys do with each other. But I’m not a boy. “You can’t friend zone me now.” Because apparently the assumption should always be romantic though I never saw it that way and he never bothered to ask me. “You bitch.” Because I won’t cooperate with what he wants and the only thing that matters is what he wants.

It always happens and it’s always the same but I still try to be friends with these men because deep down inside I am not a feminist I am a scared little girl who’s certain if I am kind enough, beautiful enough, smart enough, good enough they will see me as equal and not as an object. If I am enough, a man will save me from the abuses of men, they will be the protector they always say they are. I am certain of it and I am wrong.

[azucar-skull]

Out of all the memes I made about my fanfic...

This one is forever my favorite--

Check out Green Eyed Mask here!

[atopvisenyashill]

not an f&b aegon ii fan, not a hotd aegon ii fan, but a secret third thing (a fan of the aegon ii that only exists in my mind)

[malt-rants-and-stuff]

so one of my good friends (a year younger than me) just told me she used to be in love with me when she was a hs freshman because i was quote "the prettiest fucking idiot" she'd ever met. is life even real. huh. people actually like me without me realizing it? like wow im gonna go die now thats adorable

[keeps-ache]

mm i Neeed to go the beach

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

Really feeling the height dysphoria tonight y'all... :))))))

[crossbackpoke-check]

i C u moyle

captured in 4k

[prettyvacanttt]

Ok so there is this pitbull named Happy, I know that now because I've had to go get his chip checked four times already, I've never seen him around the neighborhood on my walks or in anybody's yard or anything. Yet once a week for the past month this child just...shows up at my house. So like usually I just hang out w him fr like three hours until best friends opens and I go get coffee w the dog and maybe go for a walk and then I have to drop him off at dog jail until the owner can come get him. Next time it happens...happy is actually my dog

[lynxalon]

eeaao it hits sooooo fucking hard, the way that joy would search for her mom in every universe and how there's so much hurt there and it feels worse because there's so much love and it feels like betrayal but she keeps trying because who else could ever know what she knows who else could connect to all of her pain and anger and fear and she keeps reaching out only finally stopping when her mom learns how to reach back

joy wants her mom's permission to go, to be let go and no longer connected to her mother so that she loses that hurt but her mother knows how terrible it feels to lose the hurt because the love wilts as well, when your parent lets you go when what you really needed and wanted was their support and she reaches out and she says wait and she says this simple life with you is enough for me, it is a joyous life to me, i want you here just.. eeaao bro

[chemicaljacketslut]

sigh i think my sister is being infected by the learned helplessness shit of twitter & tiktok

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

just went to put a postcard in the box (english words are overrated i cannot remember whatsit called) and it's late and i just got out of my shoes and it's like across the street so i decided fuck it, no shoes then. random guy, high as a kite comes up looks at my bare feet and goes all what i'm thinking walking around like that in his city, i think that's okay in HIS city???

like???? i just walked away no comment and he walked off a different direction and i made sure he wouldn't like. see where exactly i went but fuck man that was unsettling

[yongseungkim]

.

[femonologue]

Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.