#i needed something new to read

[jakelope13]

Apologies if it's been a while since this is posted.

Short Story: An Abstract Concept

“You’ve got no idea what it’s like to be lonely,” the immortal in the backseat says. He’s already broken out of his cuffs, but that’s as far as he’s gotten. The crosses engraved on the windows and in the metal around him prevent him from using his strength to punch out of the car. “Not truly lonely.”

You don’t look back, focusing on the road. Your partner is dead next to you, throat torn out and head gently thunking against the window every time you hit a pothole. His hand is lying next to his leg,  blood filling his palm from where he tried to patch over the hole in his neck. You say, “Not a good enough reason for kidnapping seventeen innocent girls.”

The immortal raises a dark eyebrow. “If they’d been guilty, would that have been better?” The silence stretches and he scoffs when it’s clear you aren’t going to give him an answer. “Or maybe if I hadn’t been a vampire?”

“It’d’ve been better if you hadn’t broken the law,” you say. You take a left sooner than you should and, if your passengers notice the car picking up speed, neither mention it. “Or at least not done in my partner.”

“He surprised me,” the immortal says carelessly. He frowns out the window, eyes tracking the passing street signs. “Impressive stealth. I’m not easily surprised.”

You bet. According to the brief, he’s nearly two centuries old. You focus on the town’s perimeter coming up and reach over to prod your partner’s corpse. “Hey.”

“We,” the vampire says slowly, “are heading away from the station.”

You let the gas pedal touch the floor. The buildings melt away and the desert bursts out to either side of the car. Miles and miles of desert. You jab your partner with three fingers. “Hey, wake up. I’m gonna crash the car.”

Keep reading

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Actually, the bars aren't so bad anymore.

Think you can fix him? Read about his care instructions over at Tiger Tiger)

[beanghostprincess]

Chainsaw Man has always been about power and control and a guy who has been stripped of his childhood and teenage years to then be constantly used and manipulated, forced to become hypersexual after being groomed and sexually assaulted, and losing the one bit of normalcy there's left in him.

Denji has no control over both his body and decisions and instantly becomes a vessel of what he thinks will fix him, the very same thing Asa is to Yoru, who keeps demanding war and respect and power and she knows what to do to make Denji lose his humanity.

The relationship between Denji and Asa is so genuine and human that using that against both of their wills is incredibly violating and dehumanizing. And that's why it is so good. And that's why it needs to be explicit. And that's why I am extremely surprised people are grossed out by this happening when dehumanizing and taking control of the lives of others is exactly what War would do.

[atelieron]

finding new coffee shops to work in!

goals: finish case study, apply to some internships

🎧 listening: coffee - bts 🎶

[scuderia-hamilton]

found a very interesting article on twitter and i think it's worth a read, considering recent news

edit: also as a lot of you have pointed out too, this is like a fraction of the shit he did over the years, so it's bad.

[cubbihue]

chimmy changa timmy, why do you hate muffins? am I missing some of the lore?

Timmy doesn't like how they taste. No matter who, how or where they're made, the muffins are all the same to him. It's frustrating because he knows they shouldn't be.

And each time he walks away feeling immense disappointment. Like something should've happened.

He does his best to avoid eating them, but, Timmy found that people react weirdly when you say you don't like muffins. So he eats them anyways. He's unfortunately surrounded by muffin-nuts.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[thewildwoodpigeon]

Susan foreman is such a weird character to me. She's technically the whole reason the plot of the entire series kick off, but dosent have much impact on the plot beyond that, with her constantly playing damsel in distress and isn't allowed to do all that much by either the charcters or the writers, which sucks! Susan, in concept is such an intresting character! I do like her! It's just that the writers did so little with her at the time when she could of been so much more.

[leisi-lilacdreams]

I love @turrondeluxe's doodle series of 2003!Mikey being the best big brother to 2012!Mikey

I wanted to add to them being sillies

2003 style turts are so difficult OTL

I made 2012!Mikey so small lol oop

extra under cut 👀

>:3c hehehehe

[badyan]

The clanks

"oh-…i can move, you don’t have to sit on the floor"

"I prefered it." he answers simply, not bothering himself to explain anything more than that. His metal feet clanked against each other as he sat on the floor nearby the bed where you were laying, doodling nothings in your sketchbook — the thing you have made a habit to do when you’re hanging out in his quarters while he’s busy.

And you have never seen him this busy before. Hours standing still at his workbench, staring down the poor blueprints, then pacing through the room, his steps more calculated than the clock’s clicks. Nights follow days and the first sun rays always wake you up because there’s no curtains or anything that can make this place cozy at its bare minimum — except for the soft cushions and pillows and blankets on the bed which he has gathered only for you, only because you asked, only because you wanted to spend more time with him.

The bed was giant, clearly made for two, but there wasn’t a chance in the last few days for you to feel the familiar weight sliding closer in the dark of the night, spooning from behind so carefully, his hands gently finding their rest on your waist. Something was haunting him for too long now and you wouldn’t mind waiting for him, no, never have you, but you simply started to get worried about his state — and you’ve approached him with that but was gently turned back to your rest. You knew that he wasn’t going to listen to you anyway — but you also knew you couldn’t just let him be in this alone. So, you’re staying with him for a while. Even if he barely talks to you, he could never deny your company.

And now you’re relieved to see him sitting down nearby to meditate a bit — for the first time during this whole time. You move closer to him, hand gently sliding onto the broad shoulder.

"You should take a rest now, hun…"

"I truly don’t have much time for that." he grunts, though he knows you’re right. And the constant feeling of your attentive eyes was the actual reason why he actually forces himself to set aside his work and go take a breather. Even if he can’t actually breathe nor focus on the meditation itself.

"I…understand.." you reply reluctantly, fingertips brushing along his long collarbone pistons in a little affectionate way. He relaxes his schoulders slightly, subtly giving you more room to caress, and interwhines his hands together in the meditation gesture.

You continue to glide your hand against his metal, almost trying to calm down its unusual warmth — countless hours of mulling over his duties must have caused him to overheat. Mindlessly, your fingers wander further, over his ribbed chest and up to his neck, where they stumble upon the shiny ends of his cable hair. And that soft clank of them gives you an idea.

You sit on the bed, right behind him. An unusual angle — were his shoulders and back always this wide…and somehow heartening to look at? Like you could lean on it and feel the safest in the whole world… He sit on the floor and you still have to slightly raise your hands to carefully grasp his hair, moving it all back. You can feel him flinch just for a bit and you can’t help but smile at him being startled by such a simple touch.

"What are you doing?"

"I’ll just put them up for you," you say softly, shuffling through the thick cables in your hands, feeling their pleasant weight and quiet clanking. He almost scoffs at your offering.

"There’s no need for that-"

"Hush now." you insist, hands brushing through his cables length. "I know how it feels when they start to clutter around and piss you off. Just let me help you a lil’ bit."

And he modulates a sigh, returning to his meditating posture. That’s where you take things into your own hands — and with that, you start to work. Carefully combing his hair, then parting down the center, then starting to weave some cables together in the order only known to you. Your hands go slowly, taking strand by strand so carefully, like it would hurt him otherwise — and Ramattra can’t help but to concentrate only on your movements, feeling every subtle tug and twist you made with his cords, but oh with such care, it makes his circuits warm up…

"What are you planning to make?" he asks after a few minutes of pure silence and, suddenly, you can sense something new in his quiet tone. A hint of hesitation…but in a good way. Oh, it clicks for you immidiately and you can’t help but to chuckle softly.

"Just braids" you murmur, leaning in to give him a sweet little kiss on the top of his head. Such a simple tender gesture, yet it almost makes him falter.

"Braids?..." his head tilts in confusion — and you have to grab it by the sides gently and turn back up.

"Hey, stay still! They’re gonna look great on you, trust me…" your adorable reassurance doesn’t leave him another choice but to surrender. Though, he does find himself enjoying this whole unnesessary braiding thing…Your presence so close and your gentle little hands doing some magic with his hair, these bulky cables following your lead, not without some struggling first, but still. It’s you — you’re doing something for him. You’re here, by his side, all this time…It’s enough to finally let all these irritating thoughts begone. His mind fills with nothings, sweet nothings indeed: your hands playing around with his hair and your breathing quietly making the peaceful rythm of the moment. You are with him.

Is this…the tranquility Zen is always talking about?

He doesn’t realise how long you two were sitting like this. He simply doesn’t care now — everything seems to matter less and less the more you’re tangling your hands in his cables. But eventually, you make the final tugs and withdraw from him.

"Here you go.."

"Already?" he asks too quickly, with an undertone of longing. The moment dissapears so fast, no matter how hard he hopes it to last just a little longer.

"It took me nearly an hour!" you laugh at his question, hands running down your little piece of art. Two thick french braids go from the upper corners of his faceplate down along his head, slightly resembling dragon horns which reach up laying on his shoulders where your hands carefully move them. The weaving was quite simple but made so thoroughly the ends don’t even need something to tie them up — the rubbery texture and the tight neat braiding hold the cables together without any additional knots.

"Now, turn to me."

He slowly does so, feeling how the movements of his head became freer. It feels almost like getting your body part replaced. The same, but somehow still different. He doesn’t feel like he dislikes it, he just isn’t used to the sensation, doesn’t know where to place it within his system — but when he sees himself in the mirror you brought up to his face, he understands it immideately. Love.

Not with the braids, though he does like the way they look on him. He is in love with you. That unconditional, utter feeling which makes his circuits overheat and that electric pulse go haywire till the HUD flashes with a bunch of new warnings. That feeling he thought he never ever would be able to share with someone…

And there are you, looking at him fondly, while being so busy adjusting the way the cables twist around his faceplate.

"You’re gorgeous…You already knew that, don’t you?"

"I-…" his voice stutters into a static — clearly from your sweet words — and he tilts his head slightly to admire your work. "I love it. Thank you, babe" his faceplate lowers to gently press against the crook of your neck, soft vibrations in omnicode expressing the whole of his feelings that he can’t quite place in words now, mimicking the tender kisses. And the way you slightly shy away from his touch, giggling and whining playfully that it’s ticklish — it only makes him fall for you even more, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you flush against his body in a tight embrace, letting himself nuzzle into your neck and get lost in your charming laugher.

A half an hour goes by unnoticed in the sweetest cuddles for the last week, accompanied by cute little pecks here and there, the soft sounds of your whispers, his quiet murmurs and the clanks of his cable braid’s ends when you playfully nudge him in the chest. Yet, suddenly, your eyes flash with an another idea and you pull away, leaving him puzzled and eager to just grab and move you back there for more cuddles.

"Now, you stay here." you lean against the wall and grab your sketchbook, opening it on the new page and biting down on your pencil, looking thoughtfully at your dear omnic, admiring the way confusion stirs within him.

"Why?"

"I need to capture your beauty" and you can hear him steaming from your words.

~~~~~~~

thank u for the idea, @statuetochka <з you make me feel so inspired with your art, hope this lil piece will make you smile

[raineandsky]

Hi (if you are okay with writing this)

What about a hero (who’s a trans man) captured by the villain and the villain finds his top surgery scars and is surprised of the fact but not judgy or disgusted like the hero thought they’d be

Love ❤️ your writing,thanks

i hope you enjoy - thank you for the request!

“We don’t want to ruin this lovely suit the agency put together for you,” the villain purrs as they run a hand over the seams of the hero’s shirt. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable, hm?”

“Oh, uh, no,” the hero refutes weakly, “you can ruin it.”

The villain looks entirely unimpressed. “We have to wear unflattering uniforms when you catch villains. It’s only fair you do the same.”

“No, no, [Villain],” the hero tries, which the villain is pointedly ignoring in favour of moving too close, with too much purpose, “you don’t get it, I can’t—”

The hero’s protests are in vain. The villain’s hands are already on the hem of his shirt, and with a hefty pull they yank it directly over the hero’s head.

The hero can feel their stare burning into his chest. He directs his eyes to the ground to avoid seeing whatever disgust is inevitably on the villain’s face. Then, after a moment that’s painfully long, the villain says, “what kind of fight did you get in?”

The hero accidentally glances up at them in surprise. It’s not disgust on their face—it’s confusion. Not a look that the hero is unfamiliar with; the disgust will come once he explains.

“Fought a doctor and lost,” he says with a short laugh. “They’re, uh… it’s from top surgery.”

The villain’s face is blank. “Huh.”

Here comes the disgust. The hero sucks in a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest without thinking. “Do you have something I’m meant to be putting on?”

“Oh, yeah, ‘course.” The villain grabs a shirt and throws it at the hero, waiting patiently while he hurriedly puts it on. “So you’re, y’know…”

“Trans,” the hero finishes awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” The villain turns to gesture to a door across the room. “Alright, through there, please. Let’s get this torturing on the road.”

The hero’s the one that’s staring blankly this time. “What?”

“What did you think you’re here for?” The villain’s scoffs. “I’ve caught you, and now I’m going to torture you about it.”

“No, I get that, I just, uh…” The hero glances around the room idly, like something will give him the confidence he direly needs for this interaction. He waves his hands vaguely at his chest. “Don’t you, like, have anything to say?”

The villain’s face contorts into a confused frown. “… I accept you?”

“I thought you’d be more…” The hero grapples for an appropriate word. “Judgy.”

“I’m a villain, [Hero], not an asshole,” the villain says with a tired sigh. “Being a guy or not doesn’t change the fact that you’re a hero and I hate you. If anyone does have a problem with it, though, send them my way. Always fancied myself a bit of an anti-hero.”

The hero can’t help the relieved smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll make sure to do that.”

“Thanks.” The villain waves impatiently at the door again. “Now, are we doing this or not?”

The hero nods plainly, some of his usual heroic confidence back. “Only If you don’t mind me breaking out in a few days.”

“Ugh, if you have to.”

But the villain smiles, the friendly kind, and the hero decides that maybe his nemesis could be his ally too.

[nwarrior777]

having shut downs for two days in a row, decided to feel my feeling through jpegs

so yeah here is Astarion struggling after being captured (and saved) from cazador or smth, everything i knew is still random cutscenes with him recomended by youtube, but i love him anyway

(why is he fat - because)

[katabay]

L'APPEL DU VIDE

okay so. jack! jack. what a collection of guys. the overlap between jack and the beanstalk and jack the giant killer, though. that sure is something! sometimes king arthur is there, which always takes me by surprise.

this. specifically. is an idea I've been kicking around. jack and the beanstalk is not a story I've ever enjoyed, as a kid it was probably my least favorite to read. as an adult, I was INTENSELY fascinated by reading j.g. ballard's the drowned giant. I think about it frequently, and somewhere during a re read of it, I ended up revisiting jack.

combining different versions of jack into one character is not a new concept, but it IS a fun one! the version I've been assembling together plays less with the fun elements of a jack story (and adjacent folklore stories), and focuses more on the potential for tragic elements with the addition of the usual grim and jagged narrative edges that I personally enjoy.

jack with the backstory of the devil and the three golden hairs, only jack doesn't find love, he's TIRED, all he wants to do is go home, but there isn't a home to go back to. what is the point of being born lucky if this is what it gets you? jack the giant killer, only he doesn't want to kill giants, jack who saw a body of a giant when he was a small child and cannot bring himself to do as a king commands. jack, who climbs up the beanstalk and stops halfway to look down. etc.

to go back to the drowned giant real quick, both to set the tone about jack seeing the body of a giant as a youth, and also because I've been haunted and obsessed with this excerpt of it ever since I read it:

J. G. Ballard, The Drowned Giant

anyway! this was originally like, a two illustration concept to get out of my system. however. I'm halfway through outlining a narrative. so. maybe it will also be several illustrations and also comic.

[communistkenobi]

reading the intro to decolonizing trans/gender 101 this morning by b. binaohan and one thing that has been particularly insightful for me is their description of the closet as a place only white people get to inhabit - not only because it is premised on having access to a private sphere (whose origin lies in the private property relationship of colonialism & capitalism, a type of ownership only white people have historically had access to), but also that the body itself can be private, a site of individual expression that you both 1) have control over and 2) a desire to assert a liberated, enclosed, individual agency separate from the social fabric of your life (a privilege that, again, only white people have full access to).

I think this diagnosis is very helpful in revealing that a lot of white discourse about transgender identity is, if not outright biologically-, then bodily-essentialist - that gender is expressed and mediated through the individual, that the decision "to come out as trans" is a decision that an individual makes, that being transgender is a wholly private revelation disconnected from the history of gender as a social system of control, that being trans is really not a social relationship to gender, that if you don't "come out of the closet" you are not "doing gender." it reinforces cisgenderism as a natural default, something you don't do but rather simply are, in contrast to transgenderism, a type of gender expression you can only do, and only do alone by emerging from a private realm into a public one. this is in contrast to, as binoahan puts it, "being a non-white person in this world, is to immediately be rendered available for public consumption."

This is not to say that white trans people (or any trans person who engages in the practice of "coming out") are making up the social exclusion, harassment, and violence they face by publicly transitioning or announcing their transhood, but that this imagined white universal trajectory of transhood is one of individual self-actualization, a breaking away from the world to be your own individuated self - to be liberated from the world around you, to forsake an original set of (insufficient, backwards, hostile) communities for a liberated, individuated queer one. This is, again, the product of a white imaginary and a trajectory of identity only white trans people have access to. Again returning to binaohan, "because my experiences in either the trans or queer community have made it very clear that the 'community' is hostile to my existence. and so the request to sacrifice my current communities, the communities to which I properly belong, just to fulfill some (imaginary) obligation to a community that regularly lets me know how much i don't belong, seems ludicrous. but it is not just that: it creates a situation whereby not only is the white trans/gender narrative normalized but your value/goodness as a human being becomes dependent for how well you are able to locate yourself within that narrative."

[inamindfarfaraway]

The Pixies need to be villains in A New Wish just so that Hazel, canonical lover of paperwork and the predictable monotony of places it is done like the DMV (*cough*, autism, *cough*), can have so much fun with them that it makes them have a breakdown because they're not meant to be fun! They're meant to be boredom incarnate! They rob kids of joy, they don't give it to them! Who is this child? What is going on here?

[t4t-dazai]

i think im hilarious