#did that and lost all motivation

[georgia-stanway]

Fuck is going on with Cymru by the way seems an absolute mess. Of course we knew there was going to be a drop off post bale while the team re established itself but you'd have thought they'd at least have a plan? It's like Bale was the only thing holding them together ffs. Page seems to have completely given up, got four goalkeepers but no established no.1, called up morrell and Moore despite them being suspended for the qualifier match instead of trying out some new players no wonder they're struggling to sell tickets.

[kurikorso]

oh shit look who it is!!

please click him for better quality

[hailsatanacab]

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year. 

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..." 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he... 

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb. 

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

[saturngalore]

the universe of saturngalore 🪐🌈

[aetherean-alchemist]

What is...

Grief...

If not love, persevering?

[mysterycitrus]

i don’t normally have nerves about posting stuff but i gotta say after the reddit thing im like….. experiencing anxiety about the last part of persephone. like oh man the idea of people reading this fills me with profound dread

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[palabraasinnecesarias]

maybe someday...

ao3 | ff.net

ship: ranma/akane words: 2,171

Maybe someday it’ll be more than touching hands without the worry of being shoved against one another by their binding families.  

Akane fanned herself as best as she could, trying to outbeat the mild heat thanks to the air conditioning having a minor malfunction. It’ll be up and running in a few hours, but until then, the Tendo household sprawled about the family room and along the engawa while Kasumi and Auntie Saotome prepped cooling snacks.  

The weather wasn’t horrendous by any means, in fact the breeze clanking the wind chimes offered a nice ambiance, and if it wasn’t for daytime TV entertainment, she probably would have joined Nabiki as she enjoyed her magazines next to her father and Uncle Saotome while they played another round of shogi. But instead, the young girl watched whatever was playing. And when it cut to commercials, she succeeded in not glancing at Ranma who had decided to join her – even as she knew that he was probably looking at her.  

She had caught him a few times now and then, and he’d look away almost instantly, with a hint of blushing cheeks that made her smile just as excitedly. She hadn’t actually paid attention as to how it started to happen, but it had become their thing to hide behind closed doors and share an intimate stare or reach towards each other to hold hands for just a moment. But as soon as someone walked through it, they’d unlatch and look away, pretending like nothing happened and nothing ever would. 

That evening hadn’t been any different. When they believed that no one was paying attention to them, Ranma’s hand had accidentally pressed against hers, and he didn’t look at her directly, but she knew he was probably color matching with a beet. And Akane tried not to react as she wrapped her pinky around his, risking one glance at him through the corner of her eye with a timid smile.  

His hands had always been bigger than hers, and could probably crush hers without much effort, but he was so gentle in the way he softly squeezed back. She knew he could be awkward about touching, and it always elated her beyond words when he willingly initiated the first move.  

“Freshly squeezed lemonade, everyone!” Kasumi chirped, and that was enough to pull them out of their trance as Akane quickly released her pinky’s hold around his as she jumped to her feet and merrily made her towards her older sister to help distribute the drinks. All Ranma could do was exasperate a sigh as he let himself lay on the wooden floors.  

Maybe someday it’ll be more than touching hands without the worry of being shoved against one another by their binding families.  

Ranma had gotten so much better about waking up earlier in the mornings to make it in time for school, when he wanted to, of course, and definitely not because of Akane knocking at his door every two minutes.  

Some time ago, they had needed to reroute after some unexpected shenanigans landed them a few blocks further from their school, coming across a newly installed vending machine stocked with canned beverages.  

Occasionally, the duo had begun detouring a couple left and right turns to indulge themselves in a can, finding that they shared a preference towards the canned coffee over the rest; it wasn’t overly sweet, and tasted like coffee although not bitter by any means. They would slip some spare change into the vending machine to enjoy a treat on their way to school.  

“C’mon Ranma,” Akane rushed as she was already walking out the door while still trying to adjust her foot into her shoe, having a craving for the canned coffee that morning. Ranma yawned, mildly annoyed that he couldn’t quite enjoy his breakfast because she wanted to make sure they had enough time to get to the vending machine. Still, he followed suit, bidding his goodbye for that day as he closed the door behind them.  

To their dismay, the vending machine hadn’t been fully restocked, and offered a small variant that morning. Ranma didn’t get a drink, insisting he just wasn’t wanting anything as they made their way towards the school. Still, Akane took a sip before offering him a taste. Maybe he didn’t want a whole can, and she didn’t mind sharing by any means.  

“I know what it tastes like, ‘Kane,” Ranma scoffed, pushing her offer away, edging her to stick her tongue and blow a raspberry at him.  

“Geez, just trying to be nice, in case you did want some.” He mocked a face, and Akane couldn’t help but muffle a laugh, feeling like such a kid at how goofy he seemed for just a moment. “I won’t share with you ever again,” she groaned, pretending not to care that he had rejected even just a sip. She took another drink, and mid-gulp she could feel the can getting taken away from her mouth.  

Ranma was now drinking, his Adam's apple bobbing twice before returning the now-half-empty can, utterly confused as she took her drink back. “It’s good,” he said, and she scoffed. She offered him a taste, and he says ‘no’; she takes it back, and suddenly he wants the whole drink.  

“Honestly, Ranma,” Akane rolled her eyes, narrowing her eyebrows at him, seemingly bitter, “if you want to kiss me, you just have to ask.” Of course, she was completely kidding, but according to Yuka and Sayuri, sharing a drink could be considered a form of indirect kissing. She believed the concept of indirect kissing to be a cute way of communicating in public without outwardly displaying it, but the real deal tugged at her more than sharing a straw and calling it kissing. She and Ranma hadn’t kissed – officially, that is – considering they hadn’t done more than hold hands under tables and steal glances at one another.  

“Wh-what? Kiss you?” His stuttering jumble of words wasn’t much of a defense against her accusation, especially when his now blushing face almost camouflaged with his top, and she did laugh out loud this time. The comment had slipped out of her mouth mindlessly if she were being honest, but it enlightened her to see him in such a flustered state, even if it was short-lived as he grumbled and began walking away.  

“Are ya’ saying you don’t want to kiss me?” She teased, walking faster to match his step until bumping her shoulder against his arm. She was grinning from ear to ear, like a Chesire cat, quite enjoying the deflating of his usual substantial ego.  

“’Course I do.” He retaliated, his words too fast for his brain to catch up, and all Akane could do was smile sheepishly as her eyebrows scrunched amused by his answer. What was she supposed to say to that?  

“Well,” she cleared her throat silently, smiling softer this time, unable to stop the heat from rising against her cheeks at the thought that, nevertheless, they had indirectly kissed, “good.” He was looking at her now, not as flustered but just as embarrassed by what he had candidly admitted, and she couldn’t help but take a sip before looking away. 

Maybe someday she’ll get the courage to be the one to actually kiss him without the worry that the misfortunate of a bicycle’s front wheel struck at the back of his head for the umpteen time that week.

When Akane walked into the dojo she hadn’t been expecting to see Ranma self-training, although it seemed he was working out more than anything else. She had caught the pigtail wearing martial artist on the last set of his pushups, quietly awaiting by the door, both knowing that he had detected her the moment she walked in.  

Within a minute Ranma sat up, reaching for his small towel to wipe the running sweat from his forehead and temples. He was flushed, his hair sticking at the sides of his face and mild sweat spots about his tank top. “Hey, ‘Kane,” he greeted, feeling her knees wobble monetarily as she waved at him like some lovesick junior high student.  

“Working hard, or hardly working?” She winced at the way she was trying her best to remain composed, as if not caring that she thought him quite cute at the way he smiled at her.  

“Hard to say,” he chuckled, now sitting by crossing his legs as Akane walked toward his space, taking a seat next to him before beginning some floor stretches. “It ain’t like I gotta’ work much to be good at what I do.”  

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, groaning a sigh although she was grinning like some fool, “Well, all you were doing were pushups.”  

“I do more than simple pushups!” Ranma scoffed, offended, more than ready to debate against her had he needed to. “I could even do some with you on ma’ back!”  

“As if!” Although, she believed him wholeheartedly; mainly because she had been prime witness to the capabilities of his brute strength. She hadn’t known why she had been wanting to pick a fight, but the childlike pout he aimed at her ruffled her up and she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Prove it.”  

“What?”  

“Do a set of pushups with me on your back.” She didn’t know why she continued talking, but there was now some sort of gleam in his eye that told her he was accepting her challenge. She adjusted the strap that held her gi from being too loose, and maybe because she could feel herself getting nervous. This was silly, actually. She opened her mouth to tell him just that, but although he had just finished doing pushups, Ranma readjusted himself in position.  

“Okay, hop on, tomboy.”  

“Ranma, I’m not getting on your back,” she chuckled nervously, watching him continue to wait for her.  

“C’mon, ‘Kane,” he insisted, a mischievous smirk overtaking his face, and she couldn’t help but shiver at his determined demeanor.  

“I was joking, you dope.”  

It took some convincing, but evidently the young boy had managed to get Akane to agree. And he was in position, his body planked as he waited for the young girl to get atop of him. And with a heavy sigh, pushing strands of short hair behind her ears, Akane softly placed her behind on his back.  

“I know you’re not putting your whole weight on me, idiot, don’t be scared.” She was, in fact, trying her best to not rest her entire weight on him, as he claimed.  

“You better not nag me about it later, okay?” She readjusted herself, deciding that lying on him rather than sitting was probably a better idea. And so, Akane pressed her chest against his back as she latched her hold against his shoulders, wincing when hearing him mildly groan. Although, before she could get off, Ranma began the exercise.  

He wasn’t going fast by any means, but he also wasn’t hesitating, and his performance was immaculate, as it always tended to be. She shouldn’t be blushing as much as she was, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the heat that his body emitted onto hers. His pace was steady, and if she hadn’t been so self-conscious, she probably could have taken a nap on him, like some cat. She chuckled mindlessly at that.  

“What’s so,” Ranma groaned inwardly, “funny?”  

Akane leaned forward, pressing her cheek against his sweaty temple, “Nothing,” she promised.  

“I could go faster, ya’ know.”  

“I never said you couldn’t.”  

But he was already speeding up his pushups, and Akane had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck. “You idiot,” she yelped, bouncing off him and onto the floor before he could reach another set. He gasped inwardly, turning to face her but she was laughing, softly and low at first and then loudly, outwardly with her brown eyes squinting at him and the corners of her mouth pushing her cheeks so high they were rounder than usual. And he chuckled along, ignoring the way she sat up and bopped his head as she called him an ‘idiot’ again.  

When the laughter died off, they continued sitting on the dojo floor, not remembering when Akane had reached for his hand to hold. She opened his palm and sprawled her own palm against his for a moment, dragging her fingertips about his skin for a minute before intertwining her fingers in between his, lost in thought. His hands were long, rough, but they were so comfortable to hold.  

“’Kane,” Ranma called, and she hummed a response as her drowsy eyes blinked up at him, waiting for him to continue talking, “I’m thinking about going to the market for some snacks,” he told her, very aware of his hand still being possessed by Akane’s, “wanna’ come with?”  

“Sure,” she smiled with a nod at her head.  “Kasumi wants me to grab some items for tomorrow’s breakfast.”  

Maybe someday their walk to the market would be more than just grabbing some errands, but until then she’d relish on small moments as such.  

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 16, 2021 8:00 a.m. seoul

🎵 🚇 ✨

[w1tchybusiness]

i could write a 100 page essay about what a fucking masterpiece warframe is. i will write many words in the tags. please readem if you want my 'tism.

[kulvefaggoth]

Nidhogg did go a little overboard with his vengeance we agree on that... but damn i think it kinda sucks that Vritra didn't try to kill Golbez even a little bit after what he did to Azdaja.

I know he's basically a pacifist and tries not to incite violence and it's not fully IC but i kinda wish he took an arm off Golbez or something. That dude got off scot free for all the shit he pulled.

[greppelheks]

I don't know how you've all experienced the year 2024, but I barely witnessed it, and I've been fighting for my life

[letmesleepy]

Truly wish they had a second artfight for winter times

[loola-a]

forgor to post these ! finally did my kristoff pre/post ts portraits ..

[lilacevans]

it’s amazing how men can just ruin everything

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING