#he’s not shy about saying it either

[venstm]

alhaitham’s type being charismatic people who are actually good conversationalists, also, interesting people he won’t give you the time of day otherwise. I say type as if these aren’t also the people he will actively converse with outside of necessity.

[stere0typical]

I'm gonna say it, Rogue is nothing like Jack Harkness. The only things they have in common is that they're both American, had somewhat similiar jobs when they were introduced, and both love the Doctor. That is IT.

Personality wise I can't see Jack in Rogue at all! Rogue's a nerd! He gets flustered! He panics when the Doctor tells him to say anything!

Do you think Captain Jack Harkness would act anything like Rogue did in that episode. Like I got the whole "Oh welcome back Captain Jack!" before the episode came out but dude. They're entirely different people.

[cementcornfield]

good morning, ok time for me to be a little insane upon first waking up a little hungover on a sunday

we all know joe is in arizona for his friend's bach party/the little autograph signing thing yesterday. (i don't know exactly where that was but i know he was definitely partying in scottsdale because he is a basic bitch <3 <3)

and then last night ja'marr posts the most random blurry picture on his story

the only point of which seems to be establishing that he is now also in arizona. (in phoenix which is like 20 minutes from scottsdale). it's not a picture of ANYTHING!!! like it's just some blurry shot from the back of an uber. truly the only point of this is to say he's there.

and now i woke up and thank god i screenshotted it because HE DELETED IT!!!!!

i invite you all to draw your own (insane) conclusions

[devilfic]

I feel like a lot of people confuse battinson!bruce’s social awkwardness with being shy

sometimes I see people describe bruce as being this shy, nervous, shaking chihuahua of a man who will curl up into a fetal position if a social situation stresses him out and as funny as that is to imagine… I think a lot of people are forgetting that bruce could NOT care less

like. bruce isn’t scared of the public eye. he doesn’t like it. he’s not shy, he’s awkward. I’d argue the only times he’s truly close to being shy (and I’d argue even further that he’s just. disarmed) is when he’s around selina

when bruce is uncomfortable in the public eye like at don mitchell’s funeral, it’s not because he’s scared of what people will think of him. if bruce cared what people thought of him, he’d have started playing a more active role as CEO years ago. that’s not what’s happening

he’s uncomfortable because he’s there to get a lead on the riddler case (the only thing he cares about) and he’s inconvenienced by being noticed. he’s not nervous. he’s annoyed!!

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

you know that thing where two siblings are friends so they try and force the other two to also be friends?

anyway

[bunnihearted]

🌷🕸️

[kowaindar0u]

//

crushed cause i had a diary idea for yuichi and now I can't remember what it was 😐

Also another separate idea was something following up after the last one I wrote but I'm not sure what that was gonna be either... gotdang irl memory leak lol

[sparky-is-spiders]

Heeeey. So. You remember my little Jonstalking accounting office comedy fic? Yes? No? Well I was thinking about how bad I am at writing emails and then I wrote this instead of either of the two really really important emails that I need to write as soon as possible.

Word of warning: this is barely edited. Probably it makes sense if you haven't read the first fic? But maybe it doesn't. Idk. They're in an office. Jon is obsessed w/ Elias to a bizarre and unhealthy degree.

Anyway. Uh. Enjoy?

The thing about emails, Jon thought with great bitterness, was that they required so much unnecessary nonsense. In an ideal world, Jon would be sent a file with a short, no-nonsense explanation of what it was and what he was meant to do with it, which he could then send back without any pointless toff that only served to waste everyone's time. It was degrading. (It also, sort of, made Jon feel as if he was taking a test he had never studied for in a degree everybody else had a PHD in.) Tragically, just about every job on the planet required them on occasion, and also if he didn't complete and submit this particular file by the end of the day, he would probably be penalized. Unable to put it off any longer, he opened Microsoft Outlook with the expression, posture, and exact emotions of a man facing the gallows. The social script for an email, as best as Jon could tell, was as followed:

Standard Greeting. Jon preferred to default to an inoffensive hello. (Elias preferred 'dear,' followed by the name of the employees or departments being contacted. Jon thought it was far more emotional vulnerability than he would be comfortable showing to others.)

Irritating Small Talk. Jon usually skipped this step. (He had tried it exactly three times and each time he had wanted to cut off his fingers. He could just never make it sound natural. Or care about the topic. Elias was overly fond of it, and yet never managed to let anything slip either time Jon tried it with him. (Slick bastard.) (What is he hiding?))

The Subject of the Email (with lengthy explanation and seamless transition attached, of course). Jon had found this part especially challenging, mostly because he couldn't simply attach a file and call it a day. (Elias was (naturally) quite talented in this arena. Jon had dedicated a section of his notebook to copying and analyzing several of his emails, but has gleaned little knowledge of the craft and even less of Elias himself.)

The Conclusion. Jon usually gave up by that point. A simple "regards" was all he had the patience for. (Elias also used "regards" often, but usually also had some segway or conclusion to make it clear that you had reached the end of the message. He also included a long, fancy signature, which was near identical to the signatures Jon had seen in emails from other managers.) It took him just over ten minutes, several aborted attempts at sounding like a human person who was not being held at gunpoint and forced to follow appropriate social rules, and ultimately giving up on writing something acceptable to send it in. Jon allowed himself a few brief moments to bask in the knowledge that the message was sent, and another would not be demanded of him for at least the rest of the day. It was a cold comfort.

[softquietsteadylove]

Hey i know you already make a Thenamesh hunger games au and i just can't keep my mind of it specially now, Can we ask for a part 2 of it maybe when they already in the battle field.

Ikaris was not invincible. None of them were. Thena said so herself.

Gil stared him down, his chest heaving from running through this bizarre fabrication of a tropical jungle. He needed fresh water - any water - and fast. And now he was facing down by far the deadliest tribute in here.

Well, maybe the second deadliest.

"Oi," Ikaris tipped his chin at him, "tadpole."

Gil almost rolled his eyes before he remembered his order to never take his eyes off the enemy. He gulped. Ikaris was not invincible. Ikaris had a terrible temper.

"You volunteered, right?--for your nerd brother," Ikaris grinned at him, completely menacing. He certainly had the handsomeness and charm of a Capitol trained career tribute. "Y'know my bitch companion volunteered for her brother, too. She's the reason I'm in here."

Ikaris had a terrible temper. He was easily baited. Gil gulped, "I-I thought you careers all wanted the chance to fight in the Games."

"Yeah but not 'cause blondie got me stuck here."

Thena was right, Ikaris would kill anyone, and she was top of his list.

Gil kept his weight on his feet light. He wasn't as agile as Thena, but he knew he was definitely stronger than Ikaris. Ikaris had showy muscles for a specific strength, but Gil was certain he could out strong-arm him. It was the murdering that Ikaris would have the upper hand in.

"I've seen 'er talk to you," Ikaris continued. "You know where she is?"

Gil's blood chilled. That was why Ikaris hadn't launched a spear right through his heart on sight. He was hunting for Thena - his biggest competition - first. "No."

"What'd she promise you?" Gil didn't like the smirk on his face. "A li'l, uh, fun, eh?"

Gil's stomach twisted.

"You help me find her," Ikaris fixed his cold blue eyes on him, "I'll let you make good on that promise."

"I know she'd launch herself out of the arena before she would let you touch her."

Ikaris had a terrible temper, and the effect was obvious and immediate. He snarled, baring his teeth.

Taunt him, tease him, anything necessary, Gil heard in Thena's voice. He glared at him more, "that what pisses you off the most? That Thena doesn't care for your Golden Boy act? That she's the only girl in the world who doesn't want a damn thing to do with you?!"

"Shut your filthy mouth, you loach!"

Gil gripped Ikaris' arms as he charged in at him. Thena was right about his technique being simple and sloppy, too. He used brute strength, but he didn't have skill like she had. Gil had sparred with her a few times during assessments; Ikaris was nothing in comparison. Heavier, but nothing.

In retrospect, it was probably Thena doing him a favor and letting him show off his strength, even then. She had a weird way of looking out for him, and he only hoped he would get to pay it back somehow.

Gil twisted Ikaris' arm around, wrenching his wrist the wrong way and stealing his spear for himself. This would help him fish if there was any water to be found at all in this hell.

"Coward!" Ikaris roared at him as he scrambled to pursue him, injured or not.

Gil kept running. He didn't want to kill anyone in here. Not even Ikaris.

"Get back here!"

Gil squeezed his eyes shut. Ikaris was faster than he was. He sprinted harder, but he had been running this whole time. He didn't have the stamina of someone who had trained for this their whole life.

"Open your eyes!"

Gil skidded to a stop, slipping slightly on the jungle floor. He twisted to look behind him, vines and leaves in his way. He saw a flash of gold, and Ikaris a few paces behind him. Then Ikaris had a knife in his shoulder. Two--three knives driven into Ikaris' already injured side threw him to the ground.

"Move!" Thena turned, screaming at him over the drum of blood in his ears. She reached out, gripping the shoulder of his sparkly uniform suit and dragging him with her. "Come on!"

Gil let her basically drag him with her. He looked at her hand. She had her knives, a blade of any kind being her signature weapon of choice.

"Gil!" she barked at him, pulling him behind a tree and shaking him. "Look at me!"

He blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He had been fighting Ikaris. But now he was looking at Thena, with her blonde hair in a tight braid, her pretty green eyes, her pale skin. He was in the jungle, with Thena.

"Gilgamesh," she shook him again. This was why Kingo told him that Thena had so much skill; she didn't have the personality for tribute gifts. She was beautiful, though. "Gilgamesh, look at me and listen."

"I am listening."

"Where are you?"

"The Capitol," he repeated dumbly, just staring at her. But the edges of his vision were coming back, slowly. "The Games--the dome."

"Where is your home?"

"District 4." Home, in his little shack he shared with Phastos, Dad buried on the island and barely scraping by, just the two of them.

"Who are you here for?"

"My brother." Phastos wasn't a Fighter. He was a Thinker--he was gentle hearted, and kind, and he wouldn't have survived in here. Phastos had someone who loved him. Phastos had found love, somehow, in a world like this--a love that was already hard enough. "I'm here for my brother."

"Good." She nodded sharply, slapping him on the arm. She had a sparkly jumpsuit on too, but hers looked better than the rest, Gil thought. She gripped the two - mismatched - knives in her hands. "Let's go."

"Thena," he blinked.

"Here." She said it softer, pulling out a tiny canister from the side pocket on her leg. "It's not much, but there was some rain dripping off the tip of the cornucopia."

Gil gulped down what little water it was. She was right it wasn't much, but by all the districts it was more than he'd had, and he needed it.

"We have to keep moving."

Gil swiped at his chin and licked his lips, eager for every little drop. He looked at Thena's back as she started walking ahead of him, head twitching every which way to keep a lookout for them. "Please tell me you had some of that too."

Thena didn't even look over her shoulder at him. "Have you found any food?"

That was a no. Gil huffed, gripping the spear he had gotten from Ikaris. "I was looking for water. Even if there are weeds at the bottom, I can make us something edible."

That did get her attention. She nodded, saving her words and moving along.

"You're here for Druig," Gil said, and finally got to see some sort of human reaction from her. "That's what you keep telling yourself, right?"

Thena pushed some foliage out of their way, seeming to head in a very determined direction. "Might help keep you sane."

Gil understood that well. He cleared his throat, making sure not to trip on any roots or get caught on any vines. "Phastos...he's really nice. He's funny, too. He's not that strong a swimmer, but he, uh, he like--he invents stuff? Like h-he made a contraption that helps us get the nets in faster. Like an engine that makes the arm on the boat into a fishing rod reel."

Thena paused, holding a leaf up for him to follow. She was smiling. "He sounds like a good kid, Gil."

He smiled at her too, holding up the leaf for himself. She was shorter now that he was closer to her. "What's your brother like?"

Thena waited, really seeming like she was debating answering him at all. But she sliced through a vine in front of them and sighed. "Druig is four years younger than me. He shouldn't have been in the draw to begin with, he was just born early."

He was born early, and already as young as he could be to be in the draw--no wonder she had volunteered for him without hesitation.

"We have no one else," she said more quietly, looking around again. "I made Ajak promise me that if I died, that she would make sure he was taken care of."

"I'm sure he will be," Gil said quickly. They were pretty hollow words. But he meant them all the same. She looked at him just the way he would expect, too. But he smiled, "if he's as smart as you say he is, right?"

That seemed to surprise her. She smiled again, that pretty one that made her a crowd favourite. She smiled with her teeth; he thought it was cute. "Smarter."

[incrediblysincere]

Having a job where i have to interact with coworkers all day has really made me notice how bad my social skills are

[daxite]

ok after watching oppenheimer i can safely say with confidence that 90% of people here clearly did not watch the fucking movie and those massive posts going around with thousands of notes are for the most part complete horsehshit lol 💀

[noamuth]

IN BATTLE [ … ] YOUR MUSE

fights honorably / fights dirty

prefers close quarters / prefers range

chats during / goes silent

low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance

attacks in bursts / attacks steadily

goes for the kill / aims to disarm / fights defensively / strikes first

is provoked easily / provokes their opponent / teases

gets visibly frustrated / shouts while attacking

uses strategy / focuses on the battle / experiences conflicting thoughts during battle / rushes in recklessly / tries to read their opponent before engaging

fights wildly / fights calmly / fights apathetically / fights with anger/ fights with excitement

fights because they have to / fights because they want to

fights without regard to wounds / runs away when wounded / hides wounds / takes a blow to protect another

prefers a blade /  prefers a gun / prefers hand to hand combat / prefers a bow/ prefers a shield / prefers a personalized weapon / prefers magic, alchemy or spells

their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional

transforms for battle / fights as they appear

relies on strength / doubts their strength / relies on speed

uses everything they have / proceeds with caution / hides their full potential / exhausts quickly / has high stamina

behaves arrogantly / brags after landing a hit / belittles their abilities

uses psychological tactics / uses brute strength

avoids civilians / strikes down civilians

damages surroundings / avoids damaging surroundings

signature fighting style / makes it up as they go

mastered skillset / learning their skillset

fancy footwork / sloppy footwork

messy fighter / elegant fighter

accepts defeat / refuses defeat / begs for mercy

compliments their opponent / insults their opponent

uses unnecessary movements / moves efficiently / barely moves

prefers to dodge / prefers to block

defends their blindside / has no blindside / leaves blindsides vulnerable

uses all available advantages / strictly uses one main method

plays around / holds back / fights ruthlessly / shows mercy

waits for an opponent to be ready / strikes when opponent isn’t ready

fears death / fears pain / fears killing

has ptsd / avoids fighting

has lost a fight / has won a fight

has killed / refuses to kill

wants to die standing / would succumb slowly

[pankomako]

sometimes i think about interactions boat and i have had and things he's said to/about me over the years and it makes me feel as though i must occupy some little space in his heart. like i live in his mind rent-free the way he does for me, although not nearly to the same extent lmao.

speak of the goddamn devil i just got a steam notification he's playing tf2

anyway i never thought i'd have that kind of effect on a person, much less my favorite content creator. but it sure appears to be that way, and idk. it makes me feel special. warms my heart n all that :)

[dnangelic]

idc about allonormativity but sugisaki's handling of things is vague enough around the edges that i can still put forward the thematic thesis of 'anybody who doesn't want to be alone shouldn't be alone' and 'lives and people's souls/hearts, like art, can be freely shared with each other and witnessed in order to be good and beautiful' and that sort of thing is like almost the entire driving force of daisuke's character. to me.

[killuaisaprincess]

Cinderella

THEY ARE CUTE!

Zushi has a crush.

On his best friend's brother, someone who was also his friend when they were younger…

It’s confusing. Learning Nen was much easier somehow…

He couldn’t ask master; it was much too embarrassing… and besides, he'd probably bring up some statistic that would make all of Zushi’s self-confidence plummet. He couldn’t ask master’s master; she was scary… Alluka is his best friend! Which makes it all the worse! But she had just teased him and told him probably way more info than Killua himself would ever want anyone to know… so now he feels a little guilty.

But that sad look in those deep blue eyes of his… it’s like an ocean of sadness, and Zushi wants to see a smile against those pretty features like when they were younger…

But he’s no good. He doesn’t know what to say or do… he’s definitely not Alluka, who was the only person who could bring her brother out of a melancholy state, and he’s not Gon…

Zushi doesn’t even know what happened… A-and he has no right to pry!

But he can’t think of what to do, so he’s sulking at the punch table, fiddling around with a glass in his hands.

Killua hadn’t danced with a single person tonight… s-so maybe!

Oh, come on… who’s he kidding… it took him years to conquer Heaven’s Arena; something like this seems…

Zushi sighs out loud vehemently, placing the drink down and playing with his champagne-colored bowtie, bright against the pure white of his suit.

He doesn’t know how to dance…

He’ll just stay glued here, in this spot, until the party is over, he decides; until he sees Killua slowly move away from the edge of the balcony, clearly intending to leave.

H-he’s got this!

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

HE DOESN’T HAVE THIS!

He’s sweating buckets to the point he thinks his shoes must be flooding.

“O-OSU!”

He tugs at the edge of his tux, swallowing thickly.

It’s not hard to sweat just in the presence of Killua. He’s like from another dimension. The way the light pink dress he wears flows down, like a cascade of waves, highlighting his petite frame, his slender shoulders, the sleeves draping past them. His lips are the same complimentary pink, blushing his skin in spots as well.

Killua stops fiddling with his silver locks, his somber expression twisting for a second, something akin to joy, as he looks back.

“Osu. It’s been a while… you’ve gotten strong, huh?”

There’s a small catlike grin on his face for a moment.

S-strong? Oh, right!

Zushi steps forward, standing next to Killua, rigid as a board.

“Osu! B-but I’m still nothing compared to you two!”

Wrong move.

Killua’s expression crumbles so fast, Zushi wishes he could stuff the words back in his mouth. Killua physically recoils and draws closer to himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“I can’t speak for Gon… but you’re definitely stronger than me now… you train with Alluka, right? She’s gotten strong too. She can take care of herself… so I don’t really train anymore. I don’t like fighting…”

It had always been a necessity, not fun. There was only a short time it was fun for Killua…

Tears fall hot on his cheeks before he can stop them, and he wipes them away, smiling bitterly. He wants to stop them. But they don’t…

Killua dips to the floor, trying to hide, sniffing.

Oh no.

Zushi wants to disappear. His heart aches, and he looks around desperately.

Alluka!

He can’t help Killua… he wants to. But what can he do…?

Confidence! Master’s master said it is the most important thing!

He leans over slowly, gently placing a hand on Killua’s shoulder.

“Killua?”

Killua looks up, tears still pooling in his eyes, and Zushi fumbles in his pocket, pulling something out and holding it outward for Killua.

Except it’s not a handkerchief. It’s his patchwork coin purse, and nervously he draws it back, fumbling to tug out the small piece of fabric and handing it to Killua.

“U-Um! Killua-san! S-someone as pretty as you shouldn’t cry!”

Zushi hears a small gasp out of Killua’s lips, and the red around his nose turns an even deeper hue, and Zushi isn’t sure whose face is more red, feeling his own on fire, still awkwardly holding the handkerchief out, and you can hear a pin drop.

Killua gently takes the handkerchief from Zushi’s hand, his small and slender fingers brushing against Zushi’s own, and his heart swells again, and Zushi swallows, trying to keep his heart from leaving. Killua’s pretty… and cute…

Killua says he doesn’t fight anymore, but Zushi knows Killua is still strong, but he can’t help but feel the urge rise in his chest to protect him.

“U-uh! I know you don’t fight anymore, b-but! If you want to, I mean! I’d really like if you came and watched a match of mine, osu!”

“Eh?”

Killua says it so softly he almost doesn’t hear it, and his head feels like it’s swirling as he looks up; Killua gently wipes under his nose using the handkerchief before placing it in his lap. His face is still cutely red, and he looks to the side, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

“W-well Alluka has a match… that-that day, b-but! I guess I could see how strong you’ve gotten…”

Killua looks over, smiling softly, adding.

“Osu!”