#hey she can write a bit!

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

Joker junior isn't the only kid in the joker's gang anymore.

Harley: This is your new babysitter I mean older brother, You know Mr.J and I can't just spend all our time with you Junior. Why don't you and Trixter get yourselves introduced while playing somewhere away from here, Kay bye!

Trixter(Danny): ...

JJ:...

Trixter(Danny): I like your nails they are pretty.

JJ: *growling and hissing*

...

Harley tugging the child leach with junior in it: it don't bite.

Danny: Yes it do!

[taro-pdf]

HaSO: I know humans have a Reputation but I need you to listen to me anyways

autism and support systems in space

Takes place after this story

Guang had been communicating with the captain of the Papyrus to ensure that everything was within suitable parameters for Guang’s adopted human, Fern. It had been difficult because Papyrus' “human expert” had very different ideas about what “suitable for a human” meant, much to Guang’s frustration.

@/papyrus Humans’ hearing isn’t that sensitive. Could not the human stay in the hold? @/guang "the human" is a guest of your ship so no. And I assure you, Fern’s hearing is marvelous. It is equivalent to a udito. Test again with a device set to that sensitivity.

A read notification, but no response. Why did so many beings think they knew what Fern needed? Not all humans were the same. Papyrus’ staff would comply in the end, Guang knew. No matter how frustrated they were, they wouldn’t want to anger Guang’s partner.

And no matter how much time it took, Guang would ensure that the trip would be as comfortable as possible for Fern. They had been on ships with her before. However, without accommodations it, was painful for her.

Guang knew humanity had a reputation for adaptability and make-do, but human neurology was more vast that it had known. Through Fern, it learned that some human brains worked differently than others when it came to processing sensory input, demands, change, and information. Guang had not worked with many humans besides her, so it was surprised by the pushback it was receiving from beings who assumed humanity was a monolith. 

They would never assume all space fae or centi were alike, so what was it about humans that spread such myths and made beings comfortable with such generalizations? Guang would later find out that humans themselves were not guiltless in this. Many of them enjoyed playing up their reputations as “space orcs," being known as unkillable endurance machines was not a bad thing for most.

[hana-bobo-finch]

Shoutout to this draft I made a couple hours ago when I suddenly had an epiphany for how I could fix a part of my story and I was so excited that the only way I could express it is to write whatever this is but I couldn’t post it because I didn’t have internet

also it got marked as mature for some reason

[nottoonedin]

"AU where Ivan is alive" this "Fic where Ivan and Till are saved by the Rebels" that..

Where are all the fics where Sua is alive/saved by the rebels with Mizi? ¿Dónde? ¿Dónde están??

[stuckwith-harry]

i am handing in my b.a. thesis (on motherhood in gothic fiction) in a few short days and though i have been complaining about having to write it for six months straight, right now i am actually feeling bereft of future opportunities to write academic papers about my silly little interests. for instance right now i really want to research & write about dracula daily & genre & the impacts of the newsletter format on the narrative (the addition of a timeloop)

i think about format and the specifics of narration a lot when i'm writing my own little things and i loooove when the narration - not just the narrator, but the act of telling the story - is part of the narrative. love when the narration is diegetic! love an epistolary novel (like dracula!) for this reason. should read more of them

inventory by carmen maria machado (short story! read it immediately!) is a GREAT example of this. the format of the narration is so integral to the story. does more than elevate it imo, i would argue the story genuinely wouldn't work any other way

g*d. i'm gonna have to become a video essayist

[yardsards]

a pet headcanon of mine is that after they're done with the sigil removal, emira expands her horizons and starts studying the psychological side of healing, pulling in some resources from the human realm and combining it with boiling isles methods (i imagine the field of psychology in the boiling isles, while existent, was often pushed aside as just a lesser branch of the healing coven back when belos was in charge. i do imagine there's often magic like the memory tweezers involved)

and i imagine she ends up focusing in on like, art therapy and self-expression, because she knows how important that can be, after having her individuality stifled so hard when she was young

[wexhappyxfew]

I’d love a lil something for Vivian and #39 off the touch prompts list if it sparks your brain!!

OMG HEYYYYY!!!! thank you so much for this - and for letting me explore viv a bit more!!! her character was fun to come up with and i haven't really been able to dig deep into her thoughts and character yet and this gave me the PERFECT opportunity, so thank you so so much!!! i feel writing for me has been angsty recently and that's the direction we seemed to take with this here lol! BUT, we get a bit of ev blakely, whom i have been eyeing as of late for some writing and he plays the perfect part in comfort. it's been a few weeks where i had the first half of this in writing and couldn't figure out where i wanted to go with the second half - and HERE WE ARE!!! please enjoy!!!

ease the pain

(a/n): a lil look into vivian ratcliff and her emotions for long-time boyfriend james pennington across a war-torn sea. we get a bit of comfort in the form of ev blakely. prompt is: leaning into the other's side, which i absolutely LOVED and think worked really nicely here! viv, you deserve the most sweetheart, please accept the comfort blakely is trying to give you <3333 and enjoy your mashed potatoes too girl!!!

Vivian ran her fingers along the side of Silver Bullets, her calloused hands running over every bolt ever pumped into the sides of the B-17, careening over paint and brandished edges of metal that had been knocked back in place, mission after mission.

There was something comforting about the B-17, a maternal force none of them had out here, that carried them from mission to mission, always present. Always there.

Vivian stepped back and let her hands fall to her sides, hanging empty and broken. All the girls were back at barracks, Interrogation the shit show it normally was, cleaning up and readying for a night to forget. She was here. Staring at the B-17 in silence.

"Sergeant Ratcliff," Vivian turned quickly, glancing over her shoulder, and found Ev Blakely coming her way, removing his peak cap and smoothing a hand over his head, "some of the girls were beginning to wonder where you wandered off to." Vivian stared at him, as he came closer and then looked back at Silver Bullets, her eyes wandering up to the silver pant along the name on the nose and then sighed.

"Just came to take a look at her," Vivian said quickly, patting the side of the metal for a moment, before turning to him and crossing her arms, "needed a minute." He came to a slow stop in front of her, crossing his own arms and raising a brow slightly as he tilted his head. He nodded to her.

"You okay?"

Vivian had been a waist gunner for Ev Blakely back in their training days for a few months, before Captain Faulkner had started gathering a crew and requesting people, and she was transferred. But, she'd grown to enjoy his company and his thoughts, as well as what he had to say to his crew. She also enjoyed the fact that when she was spiraling, he was always there for her, even if he never cared to admit it himself.

"Fine," she said with a nod, shaking her head, before considering the look on his face, "what, what's that look for?" Blakely smiled at her and then glanced up at Silver Bullets, his face softening in the light before looking back at her.

"You were looking sentimental, wanted to make sure you were doing okay." he said, and then his face grew serious, "You heard from James?" Vivian grew quiet at his words and then glanced towards his eyes again.

"Not in a few weeks." she said softly, and then nodded, "It's fine though, he's fine. It's fine."

James Pennington had not written back in almost three weeks and nearly everyone seemed to know; even the men, who usually didn't get involved in any sort of discussion of lovers outside the realm of East Anglia.

But they all knew about Viv's Jimmy Pennington and Bessie's Tommy McKenzie.

Blakely watched her, and she knew, she knew from that look he was giving her that he didn't believe her for one second, but she swallowed that thought down.

"I survived another mission, I can't complain," she said quietly with a nod, "Jimmy'll get back to me when he does. He's fighting a whole other war across an ocean and a continent. I just….have to get out of my head. Gotta be grateful, too." Blakely continued to watch her as she spoke and she was sure she sounded half like a lunatic but she didn't care.

When Vivian had been sick as a dog a few weeks back, Blakely hung around at night and talked to her as best as he could through her coughing and vomiting. He'd seen her sweaty and half-dead after missions, distraught and in tears, drunk that one time off her ass when she couldn't deal with this stupid thing called war, bringing her to barracks and helping her settle in bed. Sometimes, she looked at him and swore in is eyes there was something there neither wanted to discuss, but she ignored it and took his friendship head-on more than anything.

"I'm fine, seriously," Vivian said, with a nod, convincing herself alongside Blakely, "everything's fine." She stared at him, "What?" Blakely smiled slightly and nodded.

"Let's get you some dinner, step away from Silver Bullets for a bit, she'll be here when you get back," he said softly and she felt the tension from her shoulders release a bit as he turned and wrapped an arm over her shoulder, "c'mon, there's barely a soul even in there. Plus, you need some food in your stomach before we even oughta consider drinks."

Vivian walked beside him slowly, a small laugh escaping from her lips as she leaned into his side a bit more as they walked, for once, trying to grasp onto something to stabilize herself more than anything. Because out here, when the mission was all said and done and you were alone with your thoughts and feelings, there was no one but yourself.

"What if he doesn't write back, Ev?" Vivian whispered quietly as his hand squeezed gently on her bicep, narrowly avoiding where part of her jacket had been burned from a bullet graze, "What if-"

"He's going to write back." Blakely said, stopping her spiral and glancing down at her as they continued moving forward, "You've told me in length about Jimmy and his writing and how he keeps up with it all. For you. He's going to write you back. It may be a war on, but guys don't forget that sorta stuff." Vivian swallowed the emotion in her throat and nodded against him.

"Ev?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Vivian said quietly, reaching up to wipe at her eyes which hard turned misty just at the thought of Jimmy somewhere out there in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with the Navy, on a submarine or aircraft carrier or wherever he was that he couldn't reveal.

She thought of his kind smile, those deep, brown eyes, his hugs, his touch. The last time they'd seen each other, and she'd held onto him for as long as possible before he'd had to go. How deeply and longingly he'd kissed her, whispering that he'd see her again and they'd be back on her daddy's ranch in no time. And she had believed him.

Now, with no letter, and no sign of life, she was spiraling.

They entered into the mess hall and found some of the cooks cleaning up, wiping down tables and turning up chairs. But, upon entering, Blakely let out a whistle and some of the cooks glanced over.

"You guys still serving?"

"Yes, sir." one of the cooks said, looking to Vivian, who stood quietly by his side, staring off at nothing in particular, "Two plates? I'll bring them over."

"Thank you." Blakely said as he led Vivian over to a table in the corner, pulling out a chair and helping her to settle into the wooden seat before sitting across from her. She sat there quietly for a moment, her body closed in on itself as she stared at the placemat in front of her, her mind spinning, her eyes struggling not to fill with tears.

"Hey, Viv," Blakely said, leaning forward and reaching across the table to put a hand on her shoulder, "you can talk to me, you know that? It wasn't long ago you were my left gunner and a part of my crew, remember that?" Vivian looked at him and nodded, sniffling briefly before leaning against the table, covering her mouth with her hands in an attempt to hold in her want to sob.

"I feel like I lost him, Ev," Vivian whispered quietly, her voice breaking as a tear snuck out her eye and trailed down her cheek, before she tried to gather herself together in some sense, "it's not like him. Not to write. I…." She shut her eyes and shook her head.

"It's stupid to even talk like that. When he…he could be alive, just….." Vivian shook her head, "I don't know this time." Blakely watched her with that familiar, calming presence that she had grown used to. He always had that extra care of keeping an eye out for her at the flying club or when they were at interrogation or even just around base at breakfast. He was always there, always a comfort. And right now, the only thing keeping her afloat.

"Here you are, sir," the cook said, coming over with their meal of turkey and mashed potatoes, with green beans, another cook behind him with coffee and water, placing down the plates, as Blakely leaned back and Vivian ran her hands down her face, "ma'am." The cooks nodded, with thanks and then disappeared as Vivian's stomach rumbled looking at the plate. But her heart ached and her head pounded and the tears in her vision hurt.

"There's nothing to ease that sort of thought and pain, Viv," Blakely whispered quietly, "but you can only do what you can for now. And taking care of yourself and eating are things that are possible. That's something you can do now." Vivian watched him as she wiped at her cheeks, and nodded.

Staring at the meal, she thought of that first date with James, back in Fort Collins, Colorado - out to Stewart's down the road, hot turkey, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, peas and carrots. Shakily, she lifted a forkful of turkey to her lips and ate it, before leaning back against the chair and biting back her bottom lip. She looked towards Blakely who was a mix of eating and worriedly watching her.

And in a split second of time, he was standing and coming around the table and pulling her into his arms, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Just for a moment, to be held while she felt like her world was coming undone, was the only thing to ease the pain in her mind and heart.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

fire and the thud came on my spotify shuffle while me and my sister were listening to music this afternoon, and at the end of it she turns to me and goes “who was that? the lyrics sound like the kind of thing you’d write” and honestly i think it’s one of my favourite unintentional compliments i’ve ever received

[dbphantom]

Hate having adhd went to go work on my fallout modpack, got distracted while going to disable the steam overlay, ended up in the points shop, went to go edit my profile, decided to change my pfp, found a buried folder I forgot existed, found some old Veneer art I forgot existed, spent 45 minutes looking at all the old photos, STILL HAVE NOT TOGGLED ONE SIMPLE OPTION THAT SHOULD'VE TAKEN 30 SECONDS AT MOST

[theredcuyo]

I imagine Mia seeing her student get every single piece of paper where Miles Edgeworth is, this guy with a terrible personality and dubious methods as she remembers, and then think to herself “I already knew you had bad taste, but i didn’t think it was this bad”

For the record, i do think she knew about Phoenix becoming a lawyer for the chance of seeing him again, but that doesn’t change the fact that she can’t understand this crush he has on the man

[suddenlymicah]

happy ides of march! time to kill ceasar

[nebulousfishgills]

Reading Emily's saga from HTM to Necrosis (plus Instinct and finishing with Shades of Blue) to @bowersbubbles has been a very rewarding experience, getting real time feedback while I make her laugh, lose her shit, and cry while I swallow mucus by the mouthful since my nose has Issues.

Apologies to my much beloved roommate for having to vaguely hear me reading out loud into the 1 or even 2 AM.

[acaciapines]

on today's episode of 'acaica's background thoughts for the dess raises kris au': okay but lets be serious do dess and chara actually stay together in the end--

[l0rd-0f-c0ws]

I frequently feel completely isolated no matter how much I talk to people. So that's fun

[a-lonely-dunedain]

“Who did this to you?” For the Situations prompts!

this week on: Taz Continues to Not Actually Use the Exact Prompt Dialog in the Ficlet! Elain finally found a way to get Margim talking a little bit about her past! did not know what she signed up for.

Warning for mentioned past harm to a child (nothing spoken about in detail but it is very briefly discussed. comes with the territory of Margim's backstory)

To call the newest resident of Lhan Tarran ‘quiet’ would be an almost comical understatement.

No one knew much of anything about her, besides the fact that she had come from somewhere far to the south, and that a hard road had led her here. That much was clear from the numerous battle scars all over her. No one knows exactly where she’s from, or why exactly she looks… like that, but no one is particularly inclined to pry into her past much.  She is strong and willing to help them with just about anything they could ask of her, the least they could do is offer a little privacy in return.

That isn’t to say none of them were curious, Elain most of all. She had taken a particular interest in this mysterious newcomer, and was determined to eventually learn of her past.  Not by trying to force anything out of her of course, but she hoped to befriend Margim, and maybe then she would be willing to speak more openly about her past. And even if not, at least she’ll get another friend out of it, a victory either way as far as Elain was concerned.

But befriending her proved a much harder task than she expected it to be. Margim wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but she was very difficult to talk to, only ever giving short responses to questions and rarely asking them herself. It did not seem she was trying to be rude so much as she was just… very shy. Which Elain found quite strange, as she was clearly a battled-tested warrior. Anyone else with that many impressive scars would jump at an opportunity to boast of their exploits.

Not Margim, though. She rarely ever spoke unless spoken to.

But Elain had a plan to coax Margim out of her shell, and it seemed foolproof. 

She offered to teach Margim the art of bone-carving, to pass the time on sunny afternoons when it was too hot to get any work done. She noticed Margim would always retreat beneath the shade of the trees during this time anyway, and it seemed like a good excuse to spend more time with her. Margim, who seemed to have a very hard time saying ‘no’ to anyone and didn’t have much to do around that time anyway, of course agreed to it. Elain hoped that after sitting in silence for hours working on their craft, Margim might finally get bored enough to be willing to engage in conversation.

She might have underestimated Margim’s patience, though. The first few days of this passed in almost complete silence, save for Elain’s attempts at striking up short-lived conversation and Margim occasionally asking a question or two about the task at hand. It was a little awkward, but Margim was at least consistently showing up to their meeting spot, so at least she seemed to enjoy her lessons? Hopefully? She is very hard to read.

But Elain is nothing if not determined, and Margim did make for a great listener at least. Slowly but surely she started to speak a little more openly.

Elain was recounting the tale of a fierce battle she had with one of the Dragon-Clan’s pet worms. It was truly the largest of their kind she had ever seen, and a victory she was most proud of. She still wore a necklace made from the worm’s teeth, and always jumped at the opportunity to tell of how they earned her that rugged scar on her leg.

“Oh, I got this one from a worm too.” Margim observed quietly, motioning to a shallow scar running along her shoulder that was mostly covered by her garment. “Or… was it the orc riding the worm…? It was a long time ago.” she shrugs without looking up from the small figurine she was working on.

“Oh! You fought both at once?” Elain asked excitedly, eager to finally hear something of Margim’s past.

Margim nodded “orcs don’t really like to fight fair.”

“Heh, I guess that’s the one benefit to living in Trum Dreng, we’re far enough from the mountains not to have many problems with orcs or goblins. I’ve never fought one myself, but I hear they can be quite fearsome.”

“If you’re lucky you’ll never have to. Their stench is almost as deadly as their blades.” Margim says dryly, the corner of her lips bearing the faintest hint of a smile. Elain chuckles, that’s the first joke she thinks she’s ever heard from Margim.

“What about that one?” she motions to the deep scar running over the bridge of Margim’s nose, almost from one cheek to the other “I’d imagine there’s quite a story behind that. What sort of foe was it?” her curiosity finally won out over courtesy.

Margim’s hands stopped and she looks away “oh, this one… this one did not come from a battle.” she nearly whispers, absentmindedly running her fingers over the ridges of it “It’s very old, from my childhood actually, though I guess you couldn’t tell on account of how poorly it’s healed.”

Elain’s brow furrows and her heart sinks “...Was it some sort of accident?” She isn’t sure if she should be asking more about it, but she did anyway without thinking, hoping it was merely a freak accident. The thought of someone intentionally- it’s too horrifying. Elain hopes it isn’t that, but she knows a scar left from a blade when she sees it.

“You might say that.” her eyes remained fixed somewhere far away from Elain “I accidentally looked at someone the wrong way I guess. This was the repercussion.” Her voice is flat and her face seemingly emotionless, but there’s a certain intentionality behind it, as if she is afraid to express anything else. “I… don’t remember much else about it.” her voice became ever so slightly unsteady.

“I’m- Margim I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked, that’s-” she eventually stammered, equally horrified at the reason behind her scar, and shamed for making Margim tell her of it. She had been able to gather that Margim did not come from a good place, but she had no idea the extent of it. For someone to hurt a child like that…

“It’s fine. You didn’t know.” she assured, low voice once again carefully composed, but still unable to look at Elain. “But… can we please talk about something else?”

“Oh, of course” But the conversation quickly died after that, and they finished their work for the day mostly in silence.

She didn’t expect Margim to want to continue the bone-carving lessons after that. Elain felt as if she had stepped over a line in asking about her scars. While it might be a normal topic of conversation amongst warriors, it’s clear to her now why Margim never wished to engage in it before, and she fears she may have pushed her too far too quickly. While it was true she couldn’t have known, she still felt awful about it and wouldn’t blame Margim for wanting to avoid her after that.

Yet, much to her surprise, she found Margim waiting for her there in their usual spot the next day. She looked at Elain expectantly, she didn’t smile –she almost never did– but Elain did get the impression that she was happy to see her. At least, she did not seem unhappy to see her. Margim remained very hard to read, but she was there, and that must count for something right?

[wolpatinga]