#hopin

[webcrawler3000]

Who’s this young man? Zak Bagans. What are you doing? You think it’s Ubitron?

Where else was I and who was I messing with today?

ITS GHOST. This is Riley and he doesn’t have his mask on. CONGRATULATIONS. You have an image in the mirror of the new you taking shape.

Can’t wait to SEE you again tonight or tomorrow. You all are just energetically close to me, right? You’re not online, right? You’re not scrolling through my pins…

I told you I’m starting to have orbs flying around me again. That’s probably the little animals that communicate with me. They’re psychic!

[whaliiwatching]

diagnoses u with fanfic tags

yeah i caved. welcome spideysona

their universe is 1990s san francisco. by day they work as a struggling writer for the bugle, sort of following in the footsteps of (movie-adjacent) eddie brock; by night they’re spider-scrawl, fighting systemic injustice, writers’ block, and the occasional mad scientist invention. his world is less rife with supernatural evils than most, but he’s also fucking with the government and corporations and all, so it balances out

their unique thing is that they have, like, shitty meta clairvoyance in the form of inherently understanding tropes, clichés, story structure, etc. like if cinemasins/wins were a superhero. they were approached to join the society because miguel thought they’d be chill or even helpful with canon events—unfortunately scribble here is not whatsoever into following rigid plot structure for the sake of unnecessary thematic suffering, saw the plot twist a miles away, and peaced. but not before snagging a day pass so they could watch atsv in person

they never take off their mask, and no one knows their name—he says it’s because he doesn’t want to lose his identity in a sea of spider-people, leading most to theorize that san-fran-spidey is some flavor of peter parker, but who’s to say for sure? the doylist reason, which he is in fact aware of, is that i don’t know either lol

[thewanderingmask]

tuckered terraformer

[charcarts]

gesundheit

[holyantenna]

[fenori]

aaA i finished my internship + big exam and now i am licensed medical lab scientist !! a goal ive had since graduatin college ^_T

in a lil while ill be working hospital graveyard shift WHEEZ but with this am hoping ill be able to work more on personal n cool projects on the side😳

[sheawritesstuff]

Eyes are the windows to a d[a]emon's soul

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Just say you don't want to see a black woman and white man fucking on screen.

[syrupbitee]

[modgirlyreposts-revamped]

Jax: Hi- Kinger: Leave before there's a terrible misunderstanding between my foot and your ass.

[detective-jane-rizzoli]

[webcrawler3000]

So, that program Hopin originally Nostalgia is just for me, huh?

That’s hilarious. Indigo took off with some pins, left a blank photo, dropped an egg, and hatched a whole fairytale princess dress.

Yoooooo… the chat bot was trying to tell me that these are fictional characters.

These are not fictional characters that are making moves on and off / in and out of that light. If the fiber optic network is a light, they’re moving in and out of it.

He told me today that it doesn’t get interference but they’re leaving evidence.

It’s funny.

That’s why I keep pulling cards like: the void and darkness.

[vseahn]

beach episode R&R, starring torian cadera

[relationshiphell-polls]

WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER

Do you wanna know how I got these scars? My father was a drinker...and a fiend. And one night, he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not...one...bit. So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me, and he says, "Why so serious?" He comes at me with the knife - "Why so serious?" He sticks the blade in my mouth - "Let's put a smile on that face!" And... why so serious?

[0l-unreliable]

idea/another gd AU (homestuck)

okay so hear me out, this one takes place with the betas as the main focus (depending) in a sci-fi setting.

they all meet on the day they're supposed to begin a search mission, nevertheless, they're fast friends. They're the only people on a small ship, there's John as pilot, Jade as engineer/technician, Rose as navigator, and Dave as Radio technician and they mangae pretty well with such a small group becuase, determined as they are, they don't really expect to recover anything. This trip is more for closure.

but what are they searching for? what do they need closure on?

The alphas (shocker) and their disappearance

ya see the Alphas DID know each other, but lived as far apart as they did in canon so when the opportunity arose for them to finally meet on a research voyage? of course they took it. Strangely though, people started getting sick on the ship. Not intensely enough or often enough to think it was more than a bad round of the flu.

Then Jane got sick. then she got sicker. and sicker. Hallucinations, dysgeusia with any food not high in sugar content, bouts of mania, an orange tinge to her skin, a change in vision and eye appearance, and weirdly a change in hair color. She was able to fight off the sickness for over a month.

Then Jake got infected. Mania, physical changes, biological changes. Three weeks.

there were only a handful of people left, but only Jane and Jake's sickness developed the way it did.

Roxy. A week and a half.

it was just Dirk now.

Dirk. A day.

The betas only know of what was left on the logs, remaining records and footage, and Hal, who they found in the wreckage scraping by on what little power the leftover solar panels could provide. He doesn't give them much, but they do know that for the alphas, the virus wasn't deadly.

[raineandsky]

#102

tw: abuse, threats, knives

The superhero barely sleeps anymore, but he can’t afford to. His mind is always haunted by one question: where has the hero gone?

His assistant lingers on the threshold to his office while he stares blankly at the table. She clears her throat when he shows no sign of acknowledging her. She holds a little envelope out to him when he glances up, his name written on the front in glittering cursive.

He reads the contents. Rereads. Looks to his assistant for answers. Receives none. Stares back down at the words on the little note in front of him.

“Well,” he says flatly, “I suppose I best go if we want the city to stay intact.”

-

The supervillain answers the door with a winning smile and a shocking amount of hospitality. 

“I’m so glad you made it,” he says brightly. He ushers the superhero into what can only be described as a mansion. Crime clearly pays well—or he likes to pretend it does. Who knows how he came into a house like this.

The supervillain sets the superhero down in an extravagant dining hall. Servants line the room, practically invisible in the shadows, almost as much of the furniture as the table and chairs in the middle of the room. Most of them have their eyes pointed to the floor.

The supervillain settles in the chair opposite and motions for one of the servants to step forward with a wine decanter. They pour it out agonisingly slowly, their focus honed in on the glass, before skirting around the table to do the same for the superhero.

The superhero startles. “Oh, there’s no need—”

“Nonsense!” the supervillain gestures for the servant to continue. “You’re my guest. Have a drink, please.”

The wine is poured. The servant steps back, their gaze flitting to the supervillain, and with the slightest nod of his head they retreat back into the shadows.

The superhero watches them go, catching the eye of one of the other servants standing on the outskirts of the room. It catches him off guard slightly—he could’ve sworn they were all staring at the floor—but after a moment to study their face he has to hold down a choked gasp.

That’s the hero. The hero he’s spent endless days searching for. The hero that disappeared off the face of the earth, who seemed to just cease to exist. The hero’s staring back at him like they’re equally stunned to see him here, their eyes wide and their jaw slack.

The quiet goes on too long. The supervillain twists in his chair to glance at whatever’s caught the superhero’s interest.

“Ah,” he says shortly. The single word seems to snap the hero out of it, their gaze immediately snapping back down to the ground. “Is my servant here bothering you?”

“You—” You invited me here on purpose. The superhero can’t think of words outraged enough. They’ve been here the whole time. “How dare you—”

“[Hero],” the supervillain says lightly. “Come here.”

The hero shares a worried glance with the servants next to them before slowly stepping towards him. They pause just behind his chair, their head bowed—out of fear or respect, it’s not obvious. “Sir?”

The villain holds his hand up to them expectantly. “Give me your hand.”

The hero spares a glance at the superhero. “B-But sir, our guest—”

“Your hand, [Hero].”

They hesitate, their breath uneven. Then they slowly, slowly put their hand in the supervillain’s.

The supervillain moves faster than the superhero can react. He slams their palm down against the table, his grip deathly tight on their wrist. A steak knife sits in his other hand, the tip poised over the back of the hero’s hand.

The superhero’s on his feet in an instant. The hero desperately tries to pull away, but the supervillain’s grip on them is vice-like.

“Now,” he says smoothly, “what have I said about manners?”

“[Supervillain],” the superhero tries.

“Haven’t I taught you anything?”

“I– I’m sorry.” It comes out of the hero’s mouth like a knee-jerk reaction, like it’s been said a million times before. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again—”

The supervillain twists the knife testily against their skin. Something of a strangled sob tears from the hero’s throat. “Staring is rude, [Hero].”

“I– I know, I’m so sorry—”

“[Supervillain],” the superhero snaps with all the authority he can muster. “Stop.”

“I deal with my servants how I please, [Superhero].” The supervillain’s gaze pulls up to him lazily.  “This is my domain, not yours.”

But he thankfully lets go of the hero. They pull back nervously fast, their hands cupped over each other protectively. The supervillain glances back at them as they attempt to meld back into the shadows. “Go downstairs, [Hero],” he says flatly. “We will discuss this incident later.”

The hero’s gaze snaps back to him like he just asked them to walk into hell itself. “Down– Downstairs?”

“Don’t make me repeat my instructions twice, [Hero]. You know this.”

Their eyes flit between the supervillain and the superhero for a moment. Then they dip into a short bow, and with a slightly choked “sir,” they practically bolt from the room.

A couple of the servants behind the supervillain exchange whispers and sorrowful glances.

“I must apologise,” the supervillain says with an innocent sigh. “I thought I’d trained my servants better than that. I assure you such behaviour will be dealt with.”

The superhero’s still on his feet. “Release them immediately.”

The supervillain idly swills the wine for a second. “Or what?”

“The agency will not stand for this.” The superhero clenches his fists at his sides. “I will not stand for this.”

“Well,” the supervillain drawls, “you can have them back when I’m dead.” The supervillain sets his glass on the table a little too hard. “This has been a wonderful evening, [Superhero]. Now get out.”

-

It takes 20 minutes to get back to the agency, and by then the superhero has a half-formed plan in his head and a burning cry for vengeance.

When he’s dead. So be it.