#i said this to my friend and then i was like 'yup! this is a tumblr post arright! lets post this! no takesies backsies guys'

[wonderjanga]

How’re You Just Chill With Jesus?

People underestimate how close Marvel can be to other religious figures. They just thought he was close to the Greek figures considering the fact he said was a Hellenistic pagan.

Marvel: “Flash! Hey, could you cover for me in Fawcett for a couple hours?”

Flash: *mid chew through a hotdog* “Huh- oh yeah. Sure. Something wrong?”

Marvel: “I’m heading up to heaven for a mini vacay slash work trip.”

Flash: “Wait like the biblical heaven?”

Marvel: “Yeah.”

Flash: “Have you seen my nana up there?” *takes another bite of his hotdog*

Marvel: “I don’t know your nana, so I don’t know.” *shrugs*

Flash: *zooms away before coming back with a photo of his nana*

Marvel: “Oh yeah! She loves the mimosas I make.”

Flash: “You make my nana mimosas?”

or

GL: “Heyyyyy pal.”

Marvel: “Hey, Hal. Whatdya want?”

GL: “Nothing!”

Marvel: “You’re doing that voice that says you want something.”

GL: “Okay fine. You see this guy?” *shows him a photo of his dad*

Marvel: “Uh… yeah?”

GL: “Can you find out if he’s in heaven for me?”

Marvel: “Why?”

GL: “I wanna know if my old man is doing alright.”

Marvel: “That’s your dad?”

GL: “Yup.”

Marvel: “Uh…” *takes photo* “I mean, I guess I could.”

GL: “Thanks! You’re the best!”

Marvel: “Your welcome? I guess I could use this to catch up with Jesus too.”

GL: “Wait, you’re on like friend terms with Jesus himself?”

Marvel: “Yes…? Every now and then we sit down and talk about life and catch up.”

GL: “Huh.”

or

Marvel: “-So yeah! I gotta go now or I’m gonna be late to my get together with Jesus.”

Reporter: “Oh would you look at that? What a lovely way to say you’re going to church.”

Marvel: “No, I’m like actually gonna be late to see him if I don’t go. We’re trying out a new restaurant today.”

Reporter: “What.”

Marvel was shipped with Jesus for a hot second after that. People were also theorizing that he was an angel due to this closeness with Jesus. So add that to the list of theories as to what Marvel is.

[letterstodixon]

oldies station (pt. II)

modern au!

summary: Daryl has been avoiding his past as much as possible, but inevitably he runs into it again.

pairing: daryl dixon x f!reader

word count: 2373

warnings: a few cuss words. paragraphs in italics indicate flashbacks. not proofreading.

divider by @/saradika-graphics

a/n: as i said, i'm making this a mini series (for now), so the cliffhanger is completely intentional. thank you so much for the support on the first part, hope you enjoy this one as well! <3

taglist: @vaniniweenie

The typical sound of forks clanking against plates and voices could be heard in the room. Daryl looked around, his elbows resting on the table, while his fingers were intertwined, acting as a support for his chin. Somehow, some way, he felt comfortable and familiar with this situation. The Grimes family had come into his life by chance, and although it took him a while to get over the suspicion that they were not what they seemed, he confirmed that yes, they were that incredible. Then, he was introduced to their friends, and Daryl had been adopted as part of that group. Those weekend meetings were part of a routine, but that day, there were only the Grimes, Glenn and Maggie, and Carol with her daughter, Sophia. Some were missing at the table, but there would be a chance to repeat the moment next week.

"Earth to Daryl." A voice, which he recognized as Carol's, made him come out of his thoughts. Blinking a couple of times, he turned to look at her, sitting next to him, while everyone seemed to be watching him.

"What?" he asked, frowning slightly, as he shifted in his seat. He felt uncomfortable having all eyes on him.

"Carl asked if you could pick him up tomorrow from school." Rick repeated, chuckling slightly. Sophia let out a laugh, turning to look at the boy in question.

"Oh so you go to school? You're not as illiterate as you seem!"

"Sophia!" Carol scolded her.

"Shut the hell up!" Carl replied, leaning partially over the table, not taking his eyes off Sophia. Judith laughed, shaking her head.

"Swear jar!"

"Carl, enough." Rick said. Everyone at the table laughed, while the teenagers continued to look at each other with a certain amount of disdain. Rick sighed, turning his gaze to Daryl. "Can you do that for us? I know I'm asking a lot but..."

"S' no problem. Do I have to bring Jude too?"

"Nope, we're having a girls day tomorrow after school! Right?" Maggie intervened, who was sitting in front of the girl, extending her arm while wriggling her fingers, Judith doing the same and smiling at her aunt.

"Yeah!" Jude exclaimed excitedly. Gasping, she hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I forgot to finish my art project! Be right back." As the girl ran up to go to her room, everyone looked at each other, laughing.

"Didn't you have a project to finish too, huh?" Michonne asked, turning to see Carl, who rolled his eyes.

"That was like a week and a half ago. But you know, Y/N is the coolest, she wouldn't rush or pressure us into doing anything." He replied, picking up his glass to take a sip of soda, glancing at Daryl out of the corner of his eye. Hearing her name, he felt his stomach drop to the floor, the phone in his pocket weighing more than usual. How had it been almost two weeks since the message? He still hadn't responded, and he didn't know how to do so.

"Y/N is the art teacher?" Rick asked, to which his son nodded.

"Yup. Ask Daryl, he's her friend."

"Your friend? Since when?" Glenn chimed in, too intrigued to keep quiet while the rest talked. Maggie turned to look at him amused, shaking her head.

"Uh, yeah. She was a friend of mine." Daryl cleared his throat, nodding. He didn't know how to get out of this situation —again— thanks to Carl. "Long time no see."

"Carl said she is, you said was. What is it?" Michonne asked, as incisive as ever. He couldn't help but rub his palms against his pants, trying to get rid of the sudden sweat.

"Was m'fault. Kid's right, she's cool." He simply answered. Two weeks had passed without him turning his thoughts to that place he didn't want to return to: you. He regretted being a coward, but it was better for both of you not to be around anymore, and he would do everything possible to make that happen. In fact, he never deserved a friendship like yours.

Even though everyone at the table continued with their conversation and moved on from the topic, respecting that Daryl preferred not to go into detail about you, he couldn't help but feel Carl's gaze on him for the rest of the night. Was he making the wrong decision?

Stopping the bike in front of the school, this time at the correct building, he got off the bike, leaving the helmet on the seat. It wasn't common for him to wear it, but he knew he would need it for Carl. Being in that place, once again, was making him nervous. The boy knew how to act to intimidate him in some way, and while his parents preferred him to go home accompanied, Daryl knew that the teen had been behind that plan.

Before he even had time to think about what would happen if Carl didn't show up on time and where he should look for him, he started to hear voices, teenagers leaving the school with red, sweaty faces, evidence that they had had gym class. Suddenly, those voices started to get louder, making Daryl frown, sneaking closer to the entrance. It sounded like a fight.

"What's wrong with you?! They're kids! Students! Your students." A female voice said, anger visible in her voice. As he approached, the few boys who had left turned to see what was happening in the hallway.

"Oh c'mon, doll! Cut me some slack, would you? It's not that fucking d—" A man responded, being interrupted by the same voice from before, trying to cover him up.

"It is! It is that deep, you were yelling horrible things at them!"

"Because they need to grow a fucking backbone!"

When Daryl reached the school entrance, you appeared in his vision, in front of a man dressed in gymnastics —the gym coach, he assumed— who was watching you with a mocking smile, while you had to look up slightly to see his face. Carl, with desperation written on his face, was at your side, along with two other classmates. Without hesitation, he walked up the steps to enter the school, standing close to you but not interrupting.

"No, they don't! They are teens. You should stop trying to give them reasons to drop out of school," you said, lowering your voice, a sigh leaving your lips before continuing, "you should give them reasons to stay, Negan. This is supposed to be a safe place."

After speaking, almost as if you had sensed his presence, you turned to look at him with a certain confusion on your face, frowning. Daryl couldn't identify what was happening to you, but he decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Enough, we're leavin' right now. Let's go." He said quietly, motioning for Carl to start walking, one of his hands placing itself on your shoulder for you to follow. Negan laughed, looking at him in disbelief.

"You need a guard dog now, huh? I thought you were better than that." He commented, clearly trying to be hurtful. Daryl couldn't care less what some idiot he just met thought of him, they were comments he'd heard all his life, for one reason or another, but he didn't want that comment to affect you. As he was opening his mouth to respond, your voice was heard.

"You keep telling yourself that, Negan. You're so miserable being human that you constantly need to make people feel like less of a person." You said, looking at him one last time before leaving the school, Daryl following close behind you with Carl, both of you turning to see the gym coach standing in the middle of the hallway, looking like he didn't understand what had just happened. As he walked away from the building, he stopped when he saw you doing the same, turning to look at him. Only then was he able to notice your red, glassy eyes, watching him with that expression he still couldn't decipher.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl. He had no right to say that to you." You said, your voice cracking, making Daryl's heart break. Years passed, and the only thing capable of making him want to cry were your own tears. Pressing his lips together, he shook his head as he huffed, brushing off the matter.

"Ain't what matters. Guy's an asshole, I can tell." He answered, turning to look at Carl, who nodded.

"Yeah, you know Negan. He's mean but he don't really mean what he says." The teenager intervened, causing you to let out a humorless laugh.

“He means everything he says because he hypes himself up by drowning other people.” Rolling your eyes, you brought your hand up to Carl’s hair, messing it up slightly. “Would you mind to leave me and Daryl alone for a bit, sweetheart?”

Carl nodded, giving you a side hug, which you returned with a big smile, as he turned to look at his uncle once more, eyes narrowing. Daryl looked between you and him, finally focusing his gaze on you. Having you face to face, this time alone, intimidated him. He had always been intimidated, in the best possible way. If he had the chance to look at other people, he would still choose to keep looking at you, because you were the only person capable of looking at him as if he really had a place in the world. As if he really mattered.

"I assume you didn't receive my text?" You asked, tilting your head slightly as you ran your ring finger across your eye, wiping away the excess tears that hadn't finished falling. He kept that unreadable expression, though he was afraid you could read it.

"Nah, I didn't." He said, feeling guilty almost instantly. "What did it say?"

"Carl sent me your number and I wanted to keep in touch with you, if that's okay. But if you don't want to, you know where I live." You said, making him hesitate for a moment. As far as he knew, you had moved out from that house a while ago, but...

"You're at yer mom's house?"

"Exactly. Well, at least in the house by the front, I constructed a mini house in the back, made myself a little art school so kids can hang out. Sometimes I help them with homework and stuff." You told him, pride evident in your voice. "You should stop by one day, you know my mom loved you."

Daryl nodded, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, nervousness stuck in his stomach at the mere thought of running into you again, and at the mention of your mother. Back in the day, it was just the two of you, and never—really, never—had been rude or violent towards Daryl, as people usually were. However, he didn't know how to let you know those fond memories or how to respond to that invitation, so he just responded with a low "m'kay."

"I should probably get going... Hope to see you soon, Dar. Take care." You said, giving him one last smile and a light caress on his arm before heading back to the parking lot, while he nodded slightly in greeting. He cringed at the nickname, since you had always called him that just to annoy him, but thinking about it, he had missed hearing you call him that. Turning to the side, he found Carl leaning against a tree, waiting for the conversation to end.

"Now I understand why you didn't thank me. Why didn't you answer her message?!" He whispered shouted, taking Daryl by surprise and making him back off a bit at Carl's hand movements.

"None of yer business, kid. Get on the bike." He said, passing him the helmet so he could put it on, which he obeyed, but not before complaining under his breath.

On the way to the Grimes’ house, his mind couldn’t get away from what you had said to Negan, how you had stood up for the kids, and most of all, he couldn’t ignore your invitation. Dropping Carl off safely at his home, he decided to take a few more laps around the neighborhood, deciding what to do. Finally, he found himself passing by that house he could easily recognize from his younger years, and although nothing had changed, he could notice that there were more plants on the porch and it was painted a different color, more vibrant than it once was. Your favorite. As he struggled, he could see you under the tree at the entrance of the house, your overalls stained with paint, as you scolded him once again.

"Stay still! I need to get your face correctly or my project will look like a mess." You told him, one hand on his jaw as you gently turned his face, the other hand holding the pencil firmly on the paper.

He huffed, annoyed at having to stay still for so long. "Shoulda get a better model, girl." As he spoke, he noticed how you rolled your eyes in response, shaking your head. "What?"

"You, Daryl Dixon, don't see yourself as I do." You replied, a smile appearing on your face as you tapped his nose with your index finger, causing his face to instantly turn red. "The only thing you can see is the bridge of your nose, and I'm not even sure that you actually see it."

Daryl never quite understood what you meant by that, but he stayed still the rest of the time you needed, learning to enjoy the moments that would later serve as fuel to keep him going. He was still afraid —sometimes— that his tank would run dry, that he would have to live remembering what you were like, but at that very moment he decided that he didn't want to feel what losing you was like again. Getting off his motorcycle, he left it at the side of the house, taking a seat on the front steps, ready to wait for you, turning to look in confusion when he heard the front door open.

"What are you doing here?"

[gothamite-rambler]

"Yeah I'm not one the lazy cops, I got to be Commissioner for a reason," Jim Gordon said, casually.

Commissioner Gordon knows Batman's true identity and his as a friend. He values the trust between them and has chosen to protect that secret. Gordon understands that Bruce Wayne, in his dual role as Gotham's protector, will always put the city's safety first. He's no fool; he sees through the mask and recognizes the man behind it.

Moreover, Gordon eventually found out that Jason Todd is alive and has taken on the mantle of the Red Hood. In a city like Gotham, reality often blurs with the surreal. The extraordinary scenarios play out so frequently that they almost become mundane—a twisted part of everyday life. While keeping such secrets may contradict the law, Gordon knows that he's seen far worse things in his career. Some secrets are kept for the greater good, and he believes this is one of them. After all, in a city riddled with corruption and chaos, sometimes the lines between right and wrong become all too hazy.

Batman (uneasy): Commissioner Gordon... hey, the guy who sees us as friends.

Gordon turned around, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Gordon: Yes?

Batman (exhausted): You're expecting me to say something shocking?

Gordon nodded, leaning against the rooftop ledge.

Gordon: Yes. No worries, I’m the only one up here. Go ahead; I feel like I already have the correct guess.

Batman: Just stay calm. Remember when Jason Todd died and then that guy showed up years later, taking out criminals?

Gordon grinned leaning in slightly as if anticipating the big reveal.

Gordon: Red Hood, yes.

Batman: Yes, um, Red Hood is Jason Todd, and after many, many years of fighting him... we're on good terms. He doesn't live in Gotham... please don't arrest him.

Gordon crossed his arms, his expression one of mock-seriousness.

Gordon: Oh, good for you. I already knew who he was and that he moved out of Gotham.

Batman (upset the man knew already): You freaking didn't!

Gordon (quick answer, smirking): I figured it out when you were debating if he was Jason Todd.

Batman (twitching left eye, exhaling sharply as he leans back): I never said that in front of you! Who told you he might be Jason—Barbara?

Gordon (chuckling to himself, shaking his head in amusement): Yup, when I invited her over for tea two years ago. She said you guys were not on the best of terms and that you hadn't figured it out. I figured that meant you two were arguing back and forth. He tried to kill you; you tried to stop him. Am I wrong?

Batman (annoyed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away): Anyone would've guessed that.

Gordon (smiling because he's about to school this man, gesturing animatedly as he relishes the moment): Then you got kidnapped by Mr. Freeze at the gala.

Batman (not angry, just annoyed again, running a hand through his hair as he rolls his eyes): Can you not word it that way while we're on a public roof?

Gordon (waving a hand dismissively, still grinning): No worries. When Bruce Wayne—who isn't you—got frozen by Mr. Freeze and had to be saved by your Robins—not Bruce Wayne's sons. Was that better?

Gordon laughs, clearly enjoying himself, as he takes a step back, allowing the moment to sink in.

Batman sighed, shaking his head incredulously as he glanced at the sky.

Batman: Oh my God, this is my life. Can you not... arrest him?

Gordon (tilting his head, considering, his tone playful yet serious): Hm, I'm torn. On one hand, his vigilantism did get out of hand, and you know I don't agree with senseless murder. But on the other hand, I do need a donation for this upcoming policemen's ball.

Batman (raising an eyebrow, incredulous as he crosses his arms): You better be joking.

Gordon (smiling, a playful glint in his eye): Yeah, I'm joking. You're fine; I'm not going to arrest him. He doesn't live here, so that takes any suspicion off of him. Plus, Babs told me he changed his suit and is doing better mentally. I'm happy things worked out for you two.

Batman (angry, but beneath it all there's a hint of worry, tapping his foot impatiently): One minute; I have to talk to Oracle.

Batman pressed his comm device, a frown settling on his lips.

Batman: Oracle... Can you stop fucking telling him stuff!

Oracle (her voice calm and slightly exasperated, as if used to their banter): He's my dad; I trust him, dude. Get over it.

Batman (sighing, rubbing his temples as he glances at the ground): Yep, yep, yep, freaking yep. Even though I'm glad you’ll be keeping this secret—as you do with many aspects of my life at this point—I will donate something to that commissioner's police ball or whatever, and I can offer some protection if you want.

Gordon (smiling, his expression softening as he considers the offer): Thanks, buddy. It's a slow night tonight, do you want to grab something to eat or some coffee and then do your usual patrol?

Batman (exhausted, a small smile creeping in as he nods): I would like that. I am so freaking tired at this point. I'm getting too old for all of this.

Gordon (chuckling, nodding in agreement as he gestures toward the staircase): Yep, been there.

The two share a moment of camaraderie, gazing out over the city before Batman turns toward the staircase, a weary but grateful expression on his face.

Batman (with a feigned dramatic flair, lightening the mood): Lead the way, Commissioner.

Gordon shakes his head, laughing as they begin to walk down into the city together, ready for whatever the night might bring.

[familiar-finn]

"Yup," was all Finn said about Faust leaving. He shrugged his shoulders, taking his first shot down at the memory. He wouldn't force Adrasia to keep up with him considering his old friend had all his powers negated by the slave collar unlike himself. At the rate the familiar was drinking he'd be tipsy within the hour and Adrasia would be on the fucking floor well before then. Course that wouldn't stop Finn from refilling any of the celestial's glasses whenever he'd see them emptied. "I don't know, I never asked but I think Gareth was sick of his shit too and wanted him gone for both our sakes. He had some things to say about Faust and how he treated me, which was real fuckin' eye openin'. Not that I needed any further guidance towards the light at that point." Was it out of whatever kindness lurked in his master's heart or so that Finn would be less distracted to give the aswang what he wanted? The latter seemed more likely to Finn though sometimes he wondered. Still, his relationship with Gareth was a complicated one that had evolved over the years from enemies to enemies with benefits to not quite enemies with benefits all under the umbrella of master and slave. The familiar still looked forward to the day he could tear out his owner's heart without consequence.

He smirked again as he refilled his own shot glass. "I'm sure I will," he chuckled warmly. Whether he meant that seriously or not was up for debate because it took Finn a few times for the lesson to really sink in. Maybe that wisdom with old age would push him in the right direction of taking Adrasia's word and advice more seriously. "That first heat week when he was back here..." the younger started, frowning into the hot cinnamon flavored shot, rubbing a hand over the exposed bits of his chest. "He had me take off my disguise and fucked me in front of a mirror, made me watch as he used his magic to carve his name into my chest, and then forced me back into our bond without even askin' or talkin' to me about it. He healed the wounds later, claimin' he'd gotten "carried away" with the intensity of heat and havin' me back, but... the bond didn't feel right this time around."

"No, you didn't." More than anything, the thought just made Adrasia feel... sad. A demon yearning for domesticity? He wondered how much of that was Faust's doing and how much was what Finn truly wanted, under all his jaded bravado. The celestial had forgotten about his own beer entirely, merely cupping it between his hands as he turned Finn's words over in his mind. There was a new shock of disbelief though at the answer to his question, a far different one than Adrasia had expected. "He came here to escape with you and... left?" He was stupefied. "How... how did he convince your master to purchase him, after all of that?" A scoff forced its way out of the celestial's throat at Finn's quoting, shaking his head down at his glass. Adrasia did feel painfully validated in his dislike, but it wasn't a validation that felt good. More the grim certainty of having old suspicions confirmed. He offered no commentary on Finn's saying he should have known better; what else was there to say?

"It's not too late at all." Adrasia straightened up in his seat with a bemused blink, looking down at the drink the familiar pushed his way and only picking it up after a long moment's hesitation. It smelled strong. "Though I won't argue that you should be listening to me more often."

[22bananapudding]

the admin in the champion jack route: WAHH I MISS MY DEAD HUSBAND WAHHH 😭😢💧😭💧💧😢😢😭💧

the admin in the champion petra route: ok Petra now hit the second tower

[eff-plays]

i think their haircuts should kiss

[orcelito]

This morning, my therapist called me to let me know she's setting up her own practice via telehealth (which is what we were using Anyways) & asked me whether I'd want to follow her there. She still has to set stuff up with insurance stuff But her out of pocket stuff is like HALF what I've been paying out of pocket for the company she was in. So I was like, Hell Yeah let's do it

So im gonna keep up with appointments, maybe once a month or so, just so I have the accountability + the ability to ramble about what I've achieved. Bc that's been rly nice for me. I'll have my therapist back!!!! And better than ever, if only because I have to pay so much less for it 😂😂😂

And ALSO, today I put in my course request for the orchestra into the form. So different from just two weeks ago, where I was practically begging to be given a chance to audition. I was sitting in the same spot of the lobby even, but putting in my official orchestra request instead of sending an email as I vibrated in hope and anxiety. I Got It tho. And the class won't even be that late in the day. It's really exciting.

[deus-ex-mona]

have y’all been streaming kimikawaii~~?

[katstwistedmind]

got a pepsi shower at the supermarket 🙃

one of the employees was passing by with a big bag and hit it and it exploded and I got caught in the crossfire 💀

[nashvillethotchicken]

I talk so much shit about lestat being a white que dawg cus of their association with being sexually adventurous nasty dirty down low dawgs but if im being serious he is not a white que. He's an even sicker type of white d9 member... He's a white alpha and we just gon have to deal with that

[lilgynt]

i’ll say it baby sitting too drunk dudes is not fun hold ur liquor better

[welivefast-dieyoung]

Well yes.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.3

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“Aquaman.” Batman swept into the room, beelining straight for the suddenly apprehensive Atlantean king.

“Batman. What can I do for you?”

“Phantom. Does he pay taxes?”

“Pardon?”

Batman makes a low noise that had Aquaman’s danger senses buzzing.

“Does Phantom have to pay taxes. Towards Atlantis.”

“No…? Why?”

“He wanted money, in exchange for… information, of a delicate sort,” Batman said, diplomatically avoiding the topic of Phantom bargaining for the identities of corpses in exchange for a measly $100 dollars per identity. Like a flea market dealer, that one was.

“You encountered Phantom again?” Aquaman perked up.

“Yes. Gotham’s bay is… polluted.” Batman paused. “With victims. Of murder.”

The entire area quieted as heads turned towards the Dark Knight.

“Yes, I am… distantly aware of Gotham’s waters.” By that, Aquaman gets green around the gills whenever he turns his awareness in that direction. There’s a reason he doesn’t enter Gotham, and the Dark Knight’s ban is only half of that reason. “Ah, but you’re correct. For what purpose would Phantom need mortal currency?”

“Hn.”

“Maybe he needs some stuff?” Flash zipped to a stop next to Batman, feet tapping as he dug into the pile of snacks cradled in his arms. “Us mortals are always coming up with new things, maybe he wants to try some games or something?”

Batman tilted his head down, seriously considering Flash’s suggestion. “It’s plausible.”

“Barry, Barry, Barry. He’s old as hell, right? He probably wants to try the new booze!”

“Hal, my man!” Flash fist bumped Green Lantern, who came up. “You’re back! What happened to John?”

“Dunno. He got called somewhere that way,” Green Lantern waved a vague hand towards the left. “Had to deal with a politician or something from that area.” He shrugged, swinging an arm over Barry’s shoulders to put him in a headlock and stealing a chip.

“Huh. Anyways, would our mortal alcohol even work on a demi-god or something?”

“We should ask!” Hal turned towards Batman. “You should ask if he wants to go for a drink, spooky!”

“He’s a child.”

“He’s been around for more than a millennia, Bats.”

“Informational gathering, right, Hal?” Flashgot out of the headlock, quickly munching on his snacks to stop Green Lantern from stealing them.

“Totally. Yup.”

“…Fine.”

“Wait, are we just gonna ignore that Gotham’s waters are full of bodies?”

“Yes.”

——

“What?” Danny asked, mind half on the bags he’s dragging out of the water and the other half on the essay he has to submit in about four hours.

“Green Lantern wanted to invite you out for a drink.”

Danny turned to the stoic Gotham knight, who had his wrist computer out to log the bodies’ info the moment Danny gave him the information. Some of them even told Danny who murdered them, so Batman could start building cases with solid leads.

Danny’s only twenty. He’s not legal yet but he doesn’t want to give any clues to who he is. How is he supposed to…

Ah!

“Can’t.” Danny shrugged. “I’m not legal. I died when I was fourteen so…” Danny trailed off, speechless at the drowned puppy face Batman was giving him. What the fuck.

“Anyways, fork over my payment.”

Batman wordlessly hands him a wad of hundreds.

“What do you need cash for?” Batman suddenly asked.

“Huh? Isn’t it obvious?” Danny tucked it in. “Material things, obviously. I need a blanket,” because holy shit, Gotham is damn cold this time of year. “Anyways, see you same time next week, litterer.”

“I don’t litter.”

“Tell that to the batarangs I found under the water,” Danny grumbled. “But I’ll stop calling you that if you get a signature from Poison Ivy. I have a friend who loves her.”

“An alive friend?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?”

Danny snickered and disappeared. He’s gotta cram that essay.

——

“There’s a possibility Phantom might be homeless.”

“Batman, I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of Atlantis, please stop giving me headaches. It’s time like these I wish I stayed a lighthouse keeper.”

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[wonderwomanpleasesteponme]

Dick: so you're Damian's other cousin, Mara's older brother, right?

Danny Fenton: yup, that's me.

Tim: not to be rude or anything but how come Damian's the heir and you're not? You're like a whole five years older than him.

Danny: kinda the same reason my father, Dasun, isn't the heir. I was born with a defect.

Dick: may we ask what defect?

Danny: oh I'm trans, grandfather immediately accepted that I'm a guy now, but he called it a defect that I was born in the wrong body so I'm not the heir.

Jason: that is oddly supportive of him, but still awful of him to say that you're defective of it.

Danny: yeah Grandfather is weird like that, he once said that me being in one of friends' band was foolish but still showed up to one of our bigger concerts.

Dick: why is he a more supportive grandfather to you than he ever was to your sister and Damian?

Danny: oh that's because when Aunt Taila was pregnant with Damian I decided I didn't want to be an assassin and because I'm the child of his least favorite kid I was allowed to go as long as I sent letters every now and then to show that I'm still alive.

[redeemingvillains]

veritaserum - mattheo riddle

summary: when mattheo drinks veritaserum on a bet, he's confident he doesn't have anything to hide... until you show up.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: gosh i love this messy boy. just a little something sweet + fun!

"I don't know... shouldn't we save it for something... important?"

"Like, what Blaise?" Malfoy responded, exasperated.

"Yeah, got any plans you want to share?" Theo asked.

"All ears, bud" Mattheo joined in.

Blaise threw his hands up. "Fine, fuck it, do what you want with it" he said, resigned, referring to the small vial in Malfoy's hand that had the group's rapt attention as they huddled in the corner of their dormitory like they were first years at a sleepover.

"We should put it in somebody's goblet at dinner."

"We should slip it into Dumbledore's cup, Merlin knows what the geezer would say."

Theo got a wicked look on his face, "I'll give any of you lot 100 galleons to drink it."

Eyes widened around their circle at that.

"You're joking."

"Piss off."

"No, listen to me, we think we know everything about each other, don't we?" Theo continued, letting the sentiment linger "Which means the things we don't know are deep."

He grabbed the vial from Malfoy and dangled it in front of them; Veritaserum, the most powerful truth serum in the wizarding world, even having it in their possession was breaking about 15 Ministry laws.

Members of the group stared shiftily at one another, but Theo found Mattheo's gaze staring boldly at him as he leaned casually against his four-poster, a smirk on his face.

"Make it 200 and you've got yourself a deal" Mattheo grinned.

Snickers of laughter took the group as they punched one another in amusement and excitement.

"Bottoms up" Theo said, tossing the vial at him.

"I've got nothing to hide" Mattheo replied with an air of emblazoned confidence as he deftly popped the cork and threw the liquid back like a shot of firewhiskey before anyone could stop him.

It didn't taste like anything other than water, and for a moment Mattheo thought this was the easiest 200 galleons he'd ever make, but then he felt a sort of bubbling in his chest, like every feeling, every sentence he'd ever held back wanted to burst forth.

"...Well?" asked Malfoy, cautiously, leaning in, "How do you feel?"

"Bloody weird" Mattheo said, looking down at the empty vial in his hand. "And apprehensive, like I definitely don't want you to ask me things." His eyes widened at the words that had come so truthfully and vulnerably out of his mouth before he could stop them, suddenly realizing that he'd made a horrible mistake.

Theo was howling with laughter, leaning in and rubbing his hands together as he got ready to obliterate his best friend for being so cocky; he was going to make every galleon worth it.

"Did you take Blaise's Chudley Cannons scarf last term?" he asked.

"Yup, sold it to a fifth year for a bag of weed— SHIT" Mattheo said quickly, eyes wide before slapping a hand over his mouth.

"Mate, what the fuck?—" Blaise started, but Theo was on a tear.

"—Did you cheat off of Lorenzo's potions exam this week?"

"Of course" Mattheo admitted, the words blasting by his hand, "I've been doing it since fourth year, his handwritings the size of my fist, thanks for that by the way" he said, looking at Enzo.

"Prego, amico" Lorenzo said smiling and shrugging, "happy to help."

"Alright then" Blaise said, the anger and frustration clear in his voice as he eyed Mattheo, "better own up, didn't you slip McLaggen a galleon to let Theo score on him last match?"

"Yeah, fuck, and I'm not sorry about it. I'm tired of hearing Theo piss and complain about losing when he barely shows up to practice and lets the rest of us down."

"OOHHH!" shouted several of the guys.

"Fucking harsh mate!!"

"What the fuck?!?" Theo shouted angrily as he lunged for Mattheo and the others tried to hold him back.

Amidst the shouting and commotion, they didn't hear you knock on the door.

"Guys?" you asked, raising your voice to be heard.

Five heads turned your way as they stopped mid-brawl and began to stand up and right themselves, adjusting their ties and smoothing their robes. For his part, Mattheo's heart nearly shot out of his chest. No, no no no not right now he thought as you pushed your way into their room. On any other occasion he'd be thrilled to see you, but now the bubbling in his chest was reaching its peak at the sight of his deepest, most tightly held secret: you, and every single thing he felt about you.

He took in your amused smile, the light laughter on your lips, the way it made your eyes sparkle and he felt his palms tingle with sweat as he grasped them into fists and swallowed deeply, like he could ingest his own thoughts. You were his best friend, had been since the moment he met you on his first train ride to Hogwarts and he had no illusions about ruining your friendship by trying for anything else; girls like you didn't end up with guys like him.

"Are you alright?" you asked, looking at him strangely before his friends chimed in for him.

"S'fine!"

"Yeah, yeah!"

"Never better!"

"What do you need, love?"

"I am NOT fine!" Mattheo said boldly and rather loudly before he could stop himself and your eyes shot to him with concern.

"Wait, what's wrong Matty?" you asked, using the nickname he only tolerated coming from you.

He pursed his lips tightly and shook his head, averting his eyes to the floor, physically warring with the words that were flooding his subconscious.

What's wrong? A lot of things are wrong, YN. For starters, I love you. I love you so much it physically pains me to spend as much time as we do together and not to grab your hand, to pull you onto my lap, to nuzzle into your neck, to kiss you; I have a list of things I want to do to you every time I see you. Especially in that godsdamn skirt you're wearing. It's my favorite. You should know that. And I wish you would stop wearing it, you have no idea the ways guys look at you. I wish you'd wear it only for me. I wish you'd want me the way I want you, because I want you so badly. I wish you were mine, but I'm scared, no, fucking terrified of the way I feel about you because love is vulnerability and vulnerability is weakness and I can't tell you any of this so please, please don't ask me anything and please, please stop looking at me like that.

"Matty?" you asked again, now thoroughly concerned as your best friend slammed his hands over his ears as you walked towards him.

Theo was burning hot with anger, stewing over what Mattheo had said about him, he wanted to take him down a notch, to embarrass him in return. "Admit it" he interrupted, staring at Mattheo "you have a thing for Pansy and you've tried to make a move on her even though she's with Draco."

You stopped short of approaching Mattheo and stared at Theo.

"What?" you whispered, feeling physically ill, jealous and hurt even though you had no such right.

Mattheo straightened up and glared at Theo.

"What the fuck did you just say?!" Draco said, brushing past you as he came for Mattheo.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Theo pushed further, so smug, so certain he was right.

"No you fucking prat" Mattheo spat at him.

Draco grabbed Mattheo by the front of his robes. "You swear it, you haven't made a move on her?"

"I swear it."

"Not even before we were dating?" Malfoy pressed.

"Not even before you were dating" Mattheo confirmed.

"What the fuck is going on?" you said, exasperated, almost to yourself as you tried to calm down.

"Veritaserum" Blaise said by way of explanation as he leaned in to be heard over the continued shouting of your friends. "Theo bet one of us to drink it and, well..." he said, gesturing his hand by way of explanation at the calamity in front of you.

Malfoy was shouting questions at Mattheo who looked genuinely surprised if not annoyed, and Enzo was looking back and forth at them like it was a tennis match. Theo had a deeply skeptical look on his face as he listened on, "No, you're always weird around Pansy and YN though, I thought..." then, like a lightbulb went off, Theo looked at you, to Mattheo and back again.

"Do you think Pansy's hot?" Malfoy continued.

"Bro, give it up" Blaise said finally, stepping to pull him back, "I think you're in the clear."

"I mean yeah she's hot, but she's not my type. FUCK!" Mattheo replied, rubbing a hand over his face at the admission.

"She's not, but YN is" Theo said finally.

Mattheo bit his bottom lip and stared at the floor, concentrating very hard on the tassels of the rug beneath his feet as he shook his head, a grimace on his face.

Your heart trilled in your chest, which was literally rising and falling in both panic and excitement. Mattheo was shaking his head no, but his whole body was fighting something, there was something he didn't want to say... about you.

"So, she's not your type? Not attractive to you at all?" Theo pushed.

Mattheo's face was turning a dark shade of red as pursed his lips closed and shook his head vehemently, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, his own nearly watering with the exertion of fighting the potion within him.

"Totally platonic? Didn't give a shit when Seamus Finnegan asked her out last term?"

Mattheo glanced at Theo, gathering himself, as he tried desperately to say the only truth he wanted to share. "He's a prick, no secret I didn't think it was a good idea—"

"—You never told me that" you said quietly, confused, and not a little bit angry. "But you avoided me for a few weeks after, I remember..." you said, trailing off as you stepped closer to him, and Mattheo's looked genuinely afraid, outstretching his hands to stop you from coming any closer.

"What don't you want to say?—"

"—I don't want you here right now!" he said loudly.

You physically reared back at the harshness of his words. You caught his eye, trying to communicate the way you often did with one another, to ask things that could only be said without words, but you got nothing in response.

"R-Right" you said, your voice wobbling as you turned to leave, thoroughly embarassed.

And the sound of it nearly broke Mattheo's heart.

"Wait, wait, I didn't meant it like that, I don't want you to be upset, please don't be upset" he said, moving to reach for your hand urgently, the unmasked care and compassion in his voice making you turn and making Draco and Blaise bat at each other's arms in excitement like school girls at the scene unfolding in front of them.

"I don't want you to hear my truth" Mattheo said quietly, and just like that it was just the two of you, you who knew more than any of these idiots, you knew about Blaise's scarf (you had told him not to sell it), about him cheating in potions and paying off McLaggen, but even you didn't know his most deeply held secret and this isn't how he wanted it to come out.

"Please" he begged, in way none of his friends had ever heard him speak before.

"I just... I thought I knew all of your truths?" you said vulnerably, your chin wobbling, saddened at the idea that there was a part of him you didn't know.

"You don't. I'm sorry" he said simply.

"But they get to hear them?" you said, gesturing towards your friends.

"No, they don't know them either."

"What would be so bad that you wouldn't want anyone in your life to know, Matty?"

He bit his tongue as he tilted his head. "It isn't bad. I didn't say it was bad" he said.

You could tell he was playing with you, selectively choosing his words. Your curiosity piqued as you turned to face him fully with your arms crossed.

"What don't you want us to know?" you asked.

"How I — FUCK — feel — mmhmm" he tried to physically shove the words back into his mouth, clapping his hands over his mouth again as his body betrayed him.

Theo stepped forward, trying to pry his hands back. "Say it!" he said.

Mattheo tried to wiggle out of his grasp, the two of them thrashing back and forth.

"C'mon mate, time to earn those galleons! Cough it up! How you feel about what?" and Theo yanked Mattheo's hands away from his mouth just long enough for Mattheo to all but shout:

"HER!" he said, loudly, pointing to you. "About YN. I — FUCK — fucking love her."

You could have heard an owl feather hit the floor.

"Oh shit" Malfoy whispered.

Theo took a step back as he realized the enormity of what he'd just done. He'd thought Mattheo had a little crush on you, I mean, didn't they all? He thought it was just a bit of fun. But love? He'd know Mattheo for 7 years and he never so much as heard him say the word, let alone direct it at another person, in fact he knew just how much the concept had been beaten out of him as a child.

"Mate, I'm—" he started.

Mattheo glared at him in way that reminded you for a moment about the family he came from, and it was the first time you'd ever seen Theo genuinely afraid as the smile dropped from his lips and he took an unconscious step back.

"Fuck you" Mattheo said, stepping towards him, the measured control in his voice somehow more frightening than the alternative. "You always take shit too far, you know that? That's why—"

"—Matty?" you said, your quiet whisper and the questions that lingered behind it tugging at his heart and pulling his attention back to you.

He met your eyes and the fury he felt at Theo dissolved in an instant, like it had apparated from the room, because the way you were looking at him was an expression he'd only seen in his dreams. You didn't look angry or confused, you weren't laughing or embarrassed, the sparkle in your eye was back and a soft smile rested on your lips, your eyes were blown wide, hopeful even, with a hint of something else underneath that had a sensation like melted honey spreading throughout his entire body.

"Can we maybe talk... outside...?" you asked.

"Yes, for the love of the gods" he said, walking quickly to your side, letting his hand rest gently at your back, the intimate gesture not lost on anybody as your friends wolf-whistled and snickered and he flipped them the finger over his head.

Now that the truth was out, there was nothing stopping the words that flew out of Mattheo's mouth as you led him to a nearby secluded corridor.

"I really want to talk to you about this" he said, the moment you were outside of the dormitory, "I am so embarrassed that it came out that way, that's not at all how I wanted to tell you, well, I didn't want to tell you at all, I was terrified actually. I've liked you for a long time, really since the first day we met, do you remember? On the train? You were wearing that blue jumper, you smelled like cinnamon and vanilla... You always smell so fucking good—"

You laughed as you pulled him with greater urgency by the hand away from prying eyes as he continued to ramble on, the truth serum creating a veritable waterfall of words out of his mouth.

"—You're so fucking beautiful, I love your hair, your eyes, your smile, your nose... that sounds weird, but it's true, it's so fucking cute—"

"—Mattheo" you said, as you stopped, placing your hands on his chest and pressing him gently against the stone wall to get him to slow down. "Breathe."

He shook his head.

"No, it's out now, and I don't know how long this shit lasts and if I don't say this stuff now, I'm not sure I'll ever have the balls to say it to your face, I've held onto this for 7 years YN."

Your lips curled into a small pout at how sweet he was being, at the idea that your best friend had been pining for you since you were 11 years old.

"I love you" he continued breathlessly, "and not like a little bit. Like, a lot. I don't know..." he said, carding his hand through his brown curls, "I've never felt this way about anyone, anything. I'm all consumed with you. You're the only thing I think about, the only girl I want, I'd do anything for you. And I'm sorry if this is going to totally wreck our friendship, if you want things to stay the way they are, I will try my level best—"

But his words were cut short as you pressed your lips to his, capturing his truth, letting it wash over you, every word you had been desperate to hear, every thought you'd shared the same. It surprised him for only a second before his hands grasped your face and he pulled you further into him.

"You're fucking perfect" he whispered after a moment, his eyes dancing over your features.

"Remind me again why I didn't give you veritaserum like years ago?" you said, smiling against his lips.

"It's a felony?" he said, laughing.

"...Right" you said, laughing back.

You were only gone a few minutes, but as you scurried back to the dormitory you tried to fix your hair, and wipe the lipgloss off of Mattheo's face as he smiled down at you with puppy dog eyes.

"They're going to lose their mind" you said quietly just outside the door, "let's just play it cool, alright?"

And before he could respond that there was no way on earth he could possibly do that, you pushed the door open and all conversation stopped.

"...Alright?" Theo asked, turning to face you both, nervous at the potential mess he may have caused.

"Fine, we were just talking—"

"—She macked me!!" Mattheo shouted truthfully with a huge grin on his face as he wrapped his arm around you.

You gasped and swatted at him playfully, your cheeks blushing a rosy pink as your friends erupted into cheers, hoot and hollers, descending on you both as Mattheo looked down at you, glowing, happier than you could ever remember seeing him.

taglist: @girllblogging777, @iamdnb, @bookworm124, @zatannasrealgf, @r-a-c-h-e-l