#i don't know what the actual tag is

[fangirlwriting-stories]

They Say You Can't Fight Fate (I Say Fucking Watch Me)

Summary: Remus decided a long time ago that if he ever met his soulmate he'd fuck them up.  It's only fair to return the favor, after all of the bullshit they've put him through.

Well, in all fairness, that's more his parents fault.  But blaming them didn't get him out of this place either.

Author’s Note: You know what time it is, that's right it's time to explore what a fucking nightmare it would be to live in a society with actual soulmates!  Vis-a-vis some Remus and Roman angst this time!

Also just for the record, I haven't finished this one yet and I'm not entirely sure if I will, but I've decided I like what I've written enough to post anyway!  To be clear I am still planning on finishing it as of now, I've just stopped actively working on it and I decided I didn't want to wait and see if I finished it or not.  As of now there are six chapters, and I will post all of them if nothing else!  Check the tags on this one, there's some bad stuff in here.

...

The part Remus couldn’t ever get over is that when he was younger, he was fine.  Ask anyone, he was a happy kid.   He and Roman liked playing pretend, wrestling for fun, drawing or writing together, running around together in the rain and getting absolutely soaked.  Remus was bright eyed and optimistic and hopeful and ready for a happy future and a fulfilling life.

It was all absolutely the fucking soulmates fault.  Whoever they were, Remus was never going to forgive them.

“Please don’t jump.”  That had to be the first thing they said to him.  They couldn’t have said “Hey, why don’t we go get some ice cream instead of this?” or “Hey, can we talk for a bit first?”

Or maybe they were talking about skydiving!  Maybe Remus was going to develop a passion for skydiving and meet his soulmate, the scaredy-cat who’s having second thoughts right before they jump completely safely out of the plane!  That sounded right up his alley, didn’t it?  That sounded like him!

Or it had.  Up until his parents shoved him into this clinical emotionless condescending hellhole and turned Remus’ life into the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy.

Because the thing is, if you explain to someone over and over and over again that you’re fine, and you don’t feel like you have any mental issues, and they never believe you?  Well.  That can fuck with someone in the head a little bit.

Either way, it meant Remus had spent most of his life in this stupid fucking hospital, and he wasn’t going to get out for the foreseeable future.  Probably not ever, because no one ever believed him.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  Roman believed him.  Roman had been there the first time they’d asked Remus if he thought about hurting himself, and Roman had given them a baffled look because Remus told him everything, obviously, and if Remus had been bothered by something he would have told him.

Roman had just a tad bit more luck than Remus in the soulmark department.  His wrist said “I love you, you know that?”

Meaning everyone thought he was going to have just the most peachy soulmate story ever.  Someone who was starry-eyed from the second they met him.  How could anyone with such a soulmark have any problems whatsoever?  Never mind Roman’s crippling insecurity and desperation for attention, which Remus had to do his best to help Roman with alone, because no one else was ever going to bother trying.

Instead, Roman was there as no one believed Remus when he explained that no, he really was fine, he was good, why was that so hard to believe?  Roman had backed up his story, seeming baffled that none of them understood that.

He’d protested alongside Remus when he started seeing therapists he didn’t need and Roman wanted, and eventually when Remus was sent away to a psych hospital that neither of them needed.  But the two of them backing each other up had apparently never been enough, and now Remus was here and got to see Roman once every two weeks as if that was enough to stop feeling bitter about Roman growing up without him.

His one consolation was that Roman hated it just as much as he did.  He’d never come with news that he’d made friends, even though he had to have.  He never told Remus that he’d gotten the lead role in a school play, even though his parents had told Remus earlier that visit.  He never told Remus that he’d gotten his drivers license, despite his parents raving about how proud they were.  Instead, they talked about creative projects they’d been working on together since the last time Roman was there, they watched TV shows on the phone Roman brought with him that Remus wasn’t allowed to have.  It was like Roman had decided that while he was there, his life consisted of Remus.

Remus adored him for it.  He could imagine just how quickly he’d come to hate Roman if he started telling Remus about the life he was living without him.  He wanted Roman to have one, obviously.  But he also didn’t want to hate him.  And he still wanted to be part of it.  So Roman found a way to, as best he could, say that Remus still was.

Remus just wished it could be enough.

But it wasn’t.

No amount of working on stories and paintings with Roman could change the fact that he was here every day, had no choice or chance to get out, and no one believed that he didn’t want to fucking kill himself.

Remus imagined that it was all of this put together that first made him start considering the idea.

Not seriously, not at first.  Just a little sarcastic laugh of a thought, “Why don’t you just prove ‘em all right then, if they’re going to think they are either way?”

Heh, yeah.

Hey… yeah.

What did he have to look forward to anyway, really?  It’s not like he was getting out of here at eighteen.  His parents still got to control that.  He wasn’t mentally well enough to make the decision.  Because he was never mentally goddamn well enough to make the fucking decision.  And he never would be, because no one would ever let him be.

And he wanted out of here.

The idea made more sense the more Remus thought about it, and there wasn’t much else to think about in here.  He was sure Roman picked up on something being wrong (or at least more wrong than usual), but he didn’t tell him.  He trusted Roman, but he also trusted that if he admitted to Roman what he was thinking, Roman would tell someone.  And then everyone would feel vindicated in shoving Remus in here.  And then Roman would start wondering if he was wrong to have Remus’ back.  And Remus could not lose him.

So he said nothing.  And Roman said nothing.  And Remus stumbled his way into a plan.

Visiting time was good.  Roman and him had worked out years ago that if Remus didn’t show up right away, he was sneaking some kind of contraband that would make his life a little more bearable, and Roman shouldn’t say anything.

So Remus, minutes before visiting started when the orderlies were getting everyone else ready, slipped into the stairwell.

There wasn’t exactly easy access to the roof for obvious reasons, but Remus knew how to break a window from the top floor.  And he was pretty sure it was just high enough to work.

So why couldn’t he force himself to throw the damn rock at the window?

He’d been staring at the window opposite the top of the stairs for at least fifteen minutes now, trying to figure out why he couldn’t throw the thing.  It’s not like he had all the time in the world.  And this was probably his only chance, because once someone found him here, he’d be watched much more closely.  So he really should throw the rock right about now.

Do it.  Throw it at the window.  Now.

…Except he didn’t want to die.  Even now, he didn’t want to die.  He’d never wanted to fucking die.

Remus set the rock gingerly on the window sill and buried his head in his hands.  Why couldn’t he just want to fucking die?  Wasn’t he now trying to do what everyone expected of him?  Wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing?

Footsteps on the stairs behind him.  Remus reached out and picked up the rock, looking numbly out the window instead of behind him at the person.

But then Roman’s voice said, “Remus,” gasping and panicked, so he set the rock back down on the windowsill.

Roman wrapped his arms around him from behind.  “You didn’t show up after ten minutes,” Roman murmured into his shoulder.  “What are you doing here?”  He asked it like he already suspected the answer.  Remus didn’t give him another one.

“Remus,” Roman said.  “Please—”

“Don’t,” Remus snapped.  “You dare.”

“I wasn’t,” Roman said, sounding almost surprised.  “I wouldn’t.  I was going to say ‘please come back with me.’”

Remus shook his head.  “No.”

“Remus—”

“No, Roman.  I’m done.”

“You can’t be,” Roman said.  “Remus, you can’t be done.”

“Why not?”

“Remus,” Roman said, sounding scared, desperate.  “Remus, please, I can’t lose you.”

“The hell are you talking about, you’ll be fine,” Remus snapped, gesturing down vaguely towards Roman’s wrist.

“No I won’t,” Roman said.  “Don’t tell me that, don’t tell me how I feel, I—” Remus tensed, and he stopped.

“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered.

“I can’t spend another day there while they try to find out what secret trauma I have hidden away as if it’s not them,” Remus spat.  “I can’t do it.”

Roman didn’t say anything, just squeezed Remus tightly.

“I can’t do it Roman,” Remus whispered.  “I don’t want to die, but I can’t live like this anymore.”

“So,” Roman said suddenly.  “So don’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Let’s leave.  Let’s run.”

“What, you think it’ll be different somewhere else?”

“It will if you already have your soulmate.”

“I don’t,” Remus said.  “They’ll never let me meet them anyway, not while I’m here.”

“I’ll be your soulmate,” Roman said.  “I’ll do it for you.”

Remus gave him a look.  “You can’t just do that.”

Roman gave him a very firm look back, took his wrist gently in his hand, and said honestly, sincerely, and worriedly, “Please don’t jump.”

Remus looked at him for a very long time, but didn’t say anything.  Finally, Roman gently offered his own wrist out to Remus.

A million protests ran through Remus’ head.  Roman couldn’t give up his perfect soulmate story just for his stupid fucked up institutionalized brother.  Roman had a person out there waiting, someone who probably loved him romantically, instead of just the stupid platonic soulmate like Remus would be, that most people didn’t even want in the first place.  Roman couldn’t just run off with him, how would they live, neither of them had jobs.  Roman would be leaving friends and school and a potential future behind.  Remus couldn’t take any of that from him just because he was tired and miserable.

Roman nudged him gently with his wrist, cutting off all his protests.

Remus turned and met his eyes.  Roman was looking at him with nothing but love and determination.

Remus’ eyes well up with tears.  “I love you, you know that?” he whispered, completely genuinely.

Roman nodded and pulled Remus into his arms, and they both sat there for a while.  They’d have a million details to work out, but there was still another half hour left for visiting, and for right now Remus was going to sit here with his brother.

...

Chapter Two

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[egophiliac]

time for skeleman

with the lack of any other info yet, all I can focus on are those Charles Lloyd-looking sunglasses. they are absolutely sending me. I feel like we're gonna fall through a tree or whatever and this stitched-up boney gentleman is gonna pop out from behind a gravestone and start serenading us with some smooth jazz on the saxophone.

or should I say...the saxoBONE???????

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[beebfreeb]

If I saw a nutcracker nobody could stop me

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Cite your sources.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[brainmuncher]

The emergency

A good number of members within the Justice League have children. Not all of those kids are biological or adopted but they are their kids nonetheless. Some of those kids are even old enough to be adult heroes of their own, but even then they are still their kids. And the other kids tend to take up heroism at a very young age to most people's chagrin. Although as shown by the original child hero, now going by Nightwing, it’s not as easy as telling the kids to stop.

It was learned through intense hardship that smothering the child heroes was just asking for trouble. Despite how much the older heroes wanted to stay close to their kids, it was seen as overbearing and a show of mistrust. They would act out with even less backup in retaliation, which would only bring even more stress.

So to satisfy the need for protection without stepping on any toes, two new emergency meeting signals were introduced.

One was for the kids to send off. Each one was gifted a small device that could be hidden in their person. The device had both a mic and a tracking chip that could be activated when they were in extreme danger. As soon as the device was active a signal would be sent to the league for an emergency distress signal with the details of who sent it. Due to an outcry from the kids, the device could not be activated by the guardian of the child. The mic and locator could only be activated from the device itself. It wasn’t nearly as protective as some of the more worried leaguers would like, but it was at least something. 

The second signal was one that the leaguer with a kid in danger could activate. This signal could be activated with a single code into the communicators that every member owned. If the member who sent out the signal didn’t specify what kid was in danger, every member would receive a generalized notification of the emergency alert for one of the kids. This wasn’t ideal, but it was learned early on that the guardian of the child was often too distressed to make the code more complicated. It was best to leave it simple and answer questions at the emergency meeting.

Which was great in all, until someone who doesn’t have a child involved with heroics in their care sends off a general emergency.

In places all over the globe, an emergency meeting signal message was sent by Hal Jordan, one of the lanterns. He didn’t include what child was in danger in the signal, meaning that it could be any of the underaged heroes. And considering he didn’t have a child in his care, that made multiple members panic.

When was the last time they checked in with the kids in their care? Who was the one he was sending the code for? What happened to the child he had noticed was in danger? Why is he the one that noticed? Where were their kids? Who was in danger?

Because of the nebulous nature of the call, it didn’t take long for multiple heroes to find the nearest transport to the watchtower and tumble in. What they didn’t expect was the absolute haggard appearance of their friend. He was standing in the meeting room looking like the world had been destroyed before his very eyes. The way he sat without even cracking a sarcastic remark made multiple members pause.

“Hal?” Wonder Woman called, her face pinched in concern. “What has happened?”

The aforementioned member looked over who had already arrived before settling on her face. It was at that moment she knew that he was only looking so collected through willpower alone. This wasn’t just any child of the league, this was personal.

“My nephew Danny has been captured,” He began, sending a wave of different emotions circling the room. “I’ve been trying to find where they took him for a week now and I can’t get any leads. I need your help.”

The unsaid questions and emotions were nearly palpable. Multiple members turned to one another or stared with a million questions. Nobody had known that Hal even had a nephew named Danny. Sure he mentioned someone named Jason at times, but he never indicated anything else. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned him or the fact that he’d been apparently searching for a week was strange.

“And why are you only telling us now? Why did you wait so long?” Superman asked, speaking up the question that was on multiple minds.

A fire of anger curled in Hal's eyes. It was fierce and protective. It was a mixture of appalment for being questioned on his decision and fury for the reasons why he had to do it in the first place. He stepped forward towards the center table, slamming his palms down and leaning into it.

“Because any person that goes against the group will be declared an enemy of the United States. I’ve already had my account and housing connected to Green Lantern seized,” He explained with a deceptively calm tone. “I also needed to make sure that they didn’t have any connections with the Justice League. They have their agents everywhere.”

Unsurprisingly, Batman appeared from the gathered heroes from seemingly nowhere. Despite the feud between the two of them, the Bat was completely zeroed in on the situation. While he had a decent amount of distrust in the lantern, mainly because of the parallax incident, he could tell that the man was genuine. And the Bat always did have a blind spot for children.

“Explain,” Was all Batman said, staring Hal down.

The lantern in question looked at him with a grim face. This was it. Now or never.

“They’re called the Ghost Investigation Ward, or GIW for short. They hunt down and either exterminate or experiment on anyone they deem ectocontaminated or a ghost,” Hal started to explain, his hand curling on the table in frustration. “My brother Jack faked his death and ran off to be with another woman. Those fucks deemed my nephew as ectocontaminated and tried to take him from his home. He ran from his family so that they couldn’t be arrested for knowingly harboring an ecto entity. Told me that he remembered my face from a photo his dad tried to hide in the attic and sought me out.”

If the fire in his eyes were any stronger, they would probably become physical and burn down the room. It was undeniable that Hal Jordan was understandably completely pissed off. This situation was terrible from down to the very root.

“I tried to hide him but they somehow found him anyway. Now my civilian name is being heavily monitored and Green Lantern is being hunted down,” He finished his explanation. “If you join me in this, be prepared to lose everything.”

This was so much worse than anyone could’ve predicted.

[sufficientlylargen]

Hmmm. A finger is a unit of volume, as in "two fingers of whiskey". A hand is a unit of length (most commonly the heights of horses).

So fingers per hand is actually a measure of area.

A beard-second is defined as the length a beard grows in one second (generally held to be 5 nanometers), which implies that a beard is a unit of velocity (5 nm/s).

Hands per beard is thus length per (length per time), i.e. a unit of time; conceptually one hand-over-beard is the amount of time it takes to grow a beard that is one hand long.

It follows that we can measure flow (which is change in volume over time) in fingers per hand/beard, or fingerbeards per hand (the number of fingers of fluid that pass through in the time it takes to grow a beard one hand in length).

Of course, fingers measure cubic hands, so we can cancel a hand and express flow in terms of square-hand beards - conceptually a flow of one square-hand beard means that a volume is increasing at the same rate as the volume of a one-hand by one-hand patch of beard.

Acceleration is length per time per time, so hands per square hand/beard, i.e. square beards per hand; this makes intuitive sense as the acceleration that will increase your speed by one beardspeed in the time it takes to grow one-hand beard.

There doesn't seem to be a unit of weight that's derived directly from a human body part, but we can take our cue from the ounce and use a unit of volume of a standardized substance (one ounce of water by weight is also one ounce of water by volume, modulo some details we don't care about). Using finger or hand would get confusing, though, so we should measure mass using a body-part unit we haven't used yet, the butt. One butt is therefore the mass of one butt (volume) of pure water.

Force is measured in mass * distance / square time, which for us means butt-hands per square handoverbeard, but we can cancel some hands to measure force in butt-squared-beards per hand.

The intuition for this is that one butt*square beard / hand is the amount of force necessary to accelerate a butt of water by one beardspeed over the duration of growing a handlong beard.

I think having units tied to approximations of actual human features will greatly help scientific literacy, so this units system should be adopted immediately.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

RIP Will Campos the only person who was murdered this episode.

[anglerflsh]

I'm also unsurprisingly not immune to wanting to study the wha artstyle

[redrosebug]

If the Wayne kids were kidnapped...

Dick: annoys his kidnappers into letting him go.

Jason: actually tries to escape and succeeds. Refuses to waste time being a hostage.

Cass: you don't have her, she has you.

Tim: pays his own ransom, somehow becomes the kidnappers' new boss, and leaves through the front door.

Damian: middle school child energy. Bullies his kidnappers until they call the police themselves.

✨ B O N U S ✨

Bruce: vacation time, finally 15 seconds of peace.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

As if I wasn't already exhausted enough this morning...

It's been brought to my attention that people are taking my fanfics, editing them, and sharing them around. I don't have the words to describe how not okay this is. If you don't like something about my fanfic, then I'm sorry to hear that, but there are a lot of other fics out there you can read instead.

I put time and effort and care into my writing, as does every writer. To take my work without permission and change it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. Frankly it makes me not want to share my work at all and to take down all the writing I do have up, because why should I share anything with people if all they're going to do is decide it's not good enough and they're going to do what they want with it and make it "better"?

And before anyone comes at me, this is not what a transformative work does. This is not the same as fanfiction. I'm fucking exhausted from working two eleven hour shifts over the weekend so my brain is not working so someone smarter and more articulate than I am can explain why. I'm tired.

This genuinely makes me want to take down all my works and not share anything new. It's very simple, kiddos: Don't like it? Don't read it. You will miss out on some fanfics that way, just like you'll miss out on some films, or books, or TV shows. I've missed out on really good fic, novels, films, etc, for the same reason. We all do. It's a part of life. Stuff will sometimes have things in it that you don't like. Skim those parts, fast-forward those scenes, grin and bear it, or just go and read/watch something else.

Normally I would make this post unrebloggable but I worry other writers in this fandom might experience the same thing and not realize it. So people are welcome to reblog this. Anyone who's an ass on it will be blocked, no second chances.

Just. Don't do this guys. Holy shit don't do this. What the actual fuck.

[bethanyberg]

This was an experiment with a new set of brushes

[egophiliac]

innocently logging in to look at the Twst schedule for May like

[krysmcscience]

sippy gone wrong

The sequel to this that no one asked for, yet which @miaumiaoumao predicted with 100% accuracy. How did they know this was the other thing not pictured???

Also, @pigeonfeather caused this additional sequel:

Lamb, did you ever think Narinder would be a menace by accident? He is A Cat.

[demaparbat-hp]

I believe July is trying to tell you something, Nico.