#i was all :eyes: at this thread

[starry-bi-sky]

my martha knight au in a nutshell:

Danny/Martha: see up here?

Danny/Martha: *taps skull*

Danny/Martha: intense psychological damage

-----------

Danny/Martha: *upon finding out she's pregnant*

Danny/Martha: oh my god i cant be a mom, I'm fifteen and homeless--

Danny/Martha: im going to be a terrible mother--

Danny/Martha: i live in a cAR--

Danny/Martha: what if the baby inherits my powers? Oh no--

-------------

Danny/Martha post giving birth: i've only had Bruce for a minute and a half but if anything were to happen to him i won't even need to fuse with Vlad, I'm razing this goddamn planet to the ground myself

Danny, to Baby Bruce: you are the last remaining thread of my sanity. I'm going to give you the world :)

---------------

Danny/Martha prior to getting pregnant: Fuck it, if everything in my life has led to this moment, i'm allowed to make one stupid decision. I'm getting drunk and getting laid

---------------

Danny/Martha while Bruce was a toddler: i swear to fucking god i am going to kill the next person who talks to me--

Bruce: hi mommy!! i brought you something!!!

Danny/Martha, immediately flipping on a dime: hi baby!! what do you have?

Bruce, a weird child like his mother: a spider :)

---------------

Danny/Martha, talking to Falcone after he made an unsavory comment at her and Bruce: If you ever come near me or my son again, I will dig up your shithead father's corpse and make you eat his skin.

Danny/Martha: do you understand me

Falcone:... crystal, ma'am

---------------

Danny/Martha new in Gotham: *getting mugged*

Danny/Martha: *grabs man's arm*

Danny/Martha: I AM GOING TO BREAK YOU IN HALF LIKE A TWIG, FUCK BOY, DO YOU HEAR THE WORDS COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH--

(she then proceeds to terrorize Gotham's night life for the next extended period of time, mostly unintentionally)

---------------

Danny/Martha: Danny Fenton?? No. you must be mistaken, my name is Martha Knight.

Danny/Martha: this here is my littlest knight, Bruce.

Danny/Martha: I made him all by myself :]

[troythecatfish]

[expectiations]

I still find it funny that people call eleven a "deadbeat husband" and their marriage "toxic" but twelve is the "perfect husband" and their marriage "wedded bliss" all because of the few moments we'd seen between 11 and River were them being "toxic". yes of course! let's ignore how the minisodes show how that description isn't true and even how little moments in the episodes themselves – "what? that's it?" (why haven't you kissed me goodbye? are you being sly on purpose so I'd kiss you first?) and "they wouldn't bury my wife out here" and the music room is the heart of the home and it's not a ghost story, it's a love story – show 11 cared and put in the work and yes, they're going to have disagreements like the ones in TATM because duh who doesn't but it does not mean it is the entirety of their relationship but people have taken it and made it the entirety of their relationship.

[sapphoscreature]

One of my favourite foreshadowing details.

[deadchannelradio]

my fanfiction abortion morgue is gaining another jayroy victim that is not long enough to clean up for ao3. this was going to be a very long and meandering noodle about in the river that is jason's mental health and trauma and relationships of all types and healing and the asexual/aromantic spectrum (not that that's the verbage jason would use or language hes even aware of) and low sex drives all that beautiful muck and mire but i have not put a single word on it in well over a year now. so i'm letting her go. be free little fish.

-

They’re better now, anyways, better than they ever were before. Jason had a crisis a few months back, stopping himself from reaching reflexively for his phone to give Dick a call about- nothing important. And then he had realized that he had reflexively gone to call Dick about nothing important, and had gone and stared out the window for 15 minutes, trying to work himself into a different, less horrifying conclusion than the one gathering in his brain like an avalanche. Roy had come home in the middle of it, taken one look at his face and dropped his bag on the floor with a thunk.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who died?”

“I like him,” Jason said, somewhere between incredulous and horrified. “That cunt, that motherfucker- he made me actually like him-,”

“Who?”

“Dick!” Jason had shouted. “That piece of shit, I want to spend time with him, hours out of my actual human life that I can’t get back-,”

Roy had proceeded to laugh in his face for a solid ten minutes, positively gleeful about Jason’s horrible emotional crisis. “He does that to you, man,” he said once they’d settled in, still chuckling as he cracked open a can of soda, posted up on their couch with Ethiopian takeout in his lap. “One minute you’re sitting there thinking oh my god, this guy, he’s so loud and annoying-,”

“And he never fuckin’ stops moving,” Jason groaned from his spot laying on the floor below him. “His body or his mouth. And he chews loud, he’s obnoxious on purpose, and he’s a model and dated Kory but half the time he dresses like something a goodwill dumpster threw up-,”

“Have you seen his new shoes?” Roy asked. “I dress like dogshit, man, but those things-,”

“Wally got them for him,” Jason said, and then immediately slapped his hands over his face, horrified that he knew that. Roy laughed again. “He’s constantly in your fuckin’ business! Constantly! Last time I saw him he knew the social security numbers of the baristas in the coffee shop I’d been going to-,”

“He gets enabled,” Roy muttered, shoveling injera into his mouth.

“He gets enabled!” Jason said. “Everyone enables him! I enable him! And god, his fucking- puns, man, his quips, we’re all guilty of it but this is a fight, not comedy hour, and even if it was you’d get booed off the stage-,”

“He texted me what he said to Mr. Freeze two weeks ago and I wanted to eat my phone,” Roy said. “It’s amazing no villains kill themselves after he hands their asses to them, I would be humiliated.”

“He sucks!” Jason snapped. 

“He sucks,” Roy agreed. “And then you look around one day at your life-,”

“And you go oh shit, I think this motherfucker’s alright!” Jason mimed hitting himself in the face with Roy’s abandoned house slipper. “Fuck! What’s fucking wrong with me?”

Roy laughed at him, again. “Dick Grayson Derangement Syndrome gets us all in the end,” he said. Jason curled a hand around his bare ankle, and Roy looked down to smile at him, the smallest touch making his whole face bloom open like a rose. Jason had to look away from it, wanting to say: stop. No. You know I’m not enough. You know I’m not like you. You know I can’t give you enough.

He’s been wanting to say that a lot, these days. Toss Roy off the sinking ship with a lifeboat before he has to wake up one day, years on, and realize he’s wasted years with Jason, who can’t love that loud.

He wanted to call Dick about it, which was another horrible realization. Hi big bird, I’m having boy problems. Dick would probably tell him that it means more that Jason has to try, that wanting to try for it is selfless, makes it more significant, which is the kind of thinking that lands a motherfucker in bed with Barbara Gordon, who is enough like Jason to warrant a comparison, but not enough to call her and ask what he should do. Babs loves like the Bolton Strid, and sometimes Jason isn’t sure he loves at all. Not like that.

Jason isn’t nearly as selfless as Dick is convinced he is, not deep down. Because he doesn’t want to let Roy go at all.

It’s late, well into the witching hours, and they’re laying in bed in what was formerly Roy’s bedroom but now holds them both, blinds cracked to let the streetlights through. Jason doesn’t like the dark. Roy’s threatening to buy an eyemask. Jason thinks it’s stupid to blind yourself to potential attackers. Neither of them have brought up going back to sleeping separately. Roy’s nose is pressed between Jason’s shoulder blades, breath humid through his shirt. Not asleep yet, but close. Jason’s books are proliferating on Roy’s shelves, his boxers in Roy’s laundry basket, garrotte wires coiled next to bow strings on the desk that has framed photos, past-Jason’s mouth a little white slash in the bar of orange streetlamp.

Something is clawing at the inside of Jason’s chest, scrabbling like a wild little animal. Trying to dig its way through his spine, into Roy. It hurts.

He shifts, turns over, pushes Roy over onto his back and rolls on top of him, propped up on his elbows to look down at him. Roy grunts, half-awake and confused, but takes his weight. He blinks blearily up at Jason, a crease between his eyebrows- Jason must look intense right now. “Jaybird?” he starts, quiet.

Jason knows this feeling- as all-consuming as it is- is fleeting. It’ll be gone in the morning, and he’ll forget it was ever here. He won’t be able to recall its bite until it comes back around again, like Halley’s comet. He should say something now, while he has it. While he feels it. So Roy can know it’s real. He just doesn’t know how to describe it.

“Jase,” Roy says, sounding more concerned, “Jason, what’s-,”

“Something in here,” Jason interrupts, putting a hand on his own chest, a thudding sound of muscle on muscle, “Wants to eat you.” God, he feels dumb. He’s not good at this, he sounds so much better in his head. His words come out of his mouth sour and curdled and stupid, there’s a reason he doesn’t try to talk about this shit-

Roy lights up, slow at first, then all at once, his face creasing up in his smile like old paper, following familiar folds. Jason feels his toes curl next to his calves, his feet pointing and flexing in excitement. Jason wishes he could make himself smile back, anything other than the dead-eyed concentration he knows he’s wearing right now, but the weight in his ribs is too real and too wild for that- if his teeth come out this might get literal. He wants to crack open Roy’s sternum with his bare hands, climb in like a contortionist and slam it shut behind him.

“Really?” Roy asks, small and soft and giddy. Jason nods, serious. Roy’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, smiling so wide his nose is wrinkling up, little inky lines in the artificial twilight. “Cool,” he says. 

Jason’s hands spasm in the sheets next to Roy’s head. “Roy,” he starts, “Can I-,” stops. Doesn’t know what he wants. Maybe just to look at him until the sun comes up, just to watch the light turn his freckles from a smear in the dim to pinprick-sized marigolds. Maybe to go to sleep on him like this, the thunder of his heart under Jason’s cheek. Maybe he wants everything. Maybe he wants to be the greediest son of a bitch in Gotham. 

“You can do anything,” Roy promises, and the sincerity in his voice makes the thing chewing on Jason’s lungs shake. “Anything you want. I’ll let you do everything.”

Jason drops his head against Roy’s chest with a grunt like he’s just been punched, unable to choke it back. He pushes himself up- Roy makes a quiet, sad noise, grabbing for him- and fumbles the bedside lamp on. He wants to see everything. Roy’s pupils are huge, even in the light he’s flinching from, irises that strange half-color, too dark for blue or green and too flat for hazel and too light to be brown. His cowlick’s sending his hair in every direction at the left temple, and he’s still smiling at Jason, like he can’t help it. Jason doesn’t know what to do, now that he’s here. A restaurant with an infinite menu. What he wants is strange, probably. Not how normal people want things, not what they want. Jason is off-putting, sometimes on purpose, frequently not, and he doesn’t know how this will come across. But Roy said he could have anything. Whatever he wanted. Giving up all of himself, for nothing. For free. 

Jason should take it. Roy will stop him, if he needs it. He puts his mouth on the cowlick, not a kiss, tucks his nose into Roy’s hair and breathes in deep. The nothing-smell of hair that’s not clean but not dirty. Roy’s hands are pressing into his lats, his legs spreading and crossing behind Jason’s thighs, holding him there. Jason curls both his hands around Roy’s skull, presses gently, cradling his head- all of Roy is in there, somehow, and he needs to be careful with it. His skull feels too small to hold something so important, too fragile. 

Jason drags his thumbs over his eyebrows, presses a thumbnail into the scar bisecting the left one- string snap, Roy told him, nearly took that eye out. Roy’s looking up at him still, and they’re close enough that Jason could count his eyelashes, if he wanted. He runs his fingers over Roy’s ears, feeling the cartilage, gently pinches the flesh of his earlobe, over the hole where he used to have gauges. He moves down to Roy’s neck, puts his hands around his throat, doesn’t squeeze. He feels it when Roy’s breath hitches. Roy shuts his eyes, swallows, his Adam's apple moving under Jason’s palms. 

Jason bites him where his neck meets his shoulder, hard. He thinks about being normal, trying to make it a hickey- but Roy jerks hard beneath him with a strangled noise and that thing in Jason’s chest makes him hold that position until Roy stops moving, until the bolt of his jaw aches. He lets go, spit shining around the deep purple indents in Roy’s skin. Roy lets out a shaking breath, eyes still shut.

Roy already knows he’s an inscrutable freak, Jason decides. He’s going to do everything he’s ever looked at Roy and thought about doing, everything he thought might be weird that he’s ever refrained from. Roy won’t run.

If he does, well. Jason will chase him. Roy is the one who said he was locking Jason down, said nobody in or out. He can’t get too mad if Jason takes him up on it.

He presses his nose near Roy’s armpit. The sharp, live smell of his sweat in Jason’s lungs, muted by whatever axe deodorant he uses that always makes Jason think of a cold wet morning. He rubs his mouth over Roy’s deltoid, teeth dragging. Jason pushes up and kneels with his thighs on either side of Roy’s torso, picks up an arm, runs his hands over Roy’s bicep, digs his thumbs into his elbow. Puts Roy’s thumb in his mouth, tastes skin and salt, bites the draw calluses on his fingers, gentle. Does the other arm too, to keep it even. Roy’s breathing slow and even, looking at Jason again as he shoves his mouth into Roy’s wrist until he can feel the pulse against his lower lip. Roy’s trying to caress his face with that hand, can’t quite manage more than a brush of his fingertips against Jason’s ear. 

Jason knows what he should say here. What he hasn’t been saying, because he knows it’s not the same as how Roy will say it, thinking that it will somehow be a lie because the meaning’s different. But it’s words, which are only stories. There is nothing in a story that is a lie, and no analysis that is wrong, with supporting evidence. Which Jason has, which Jason has always had. Roy at his right shoulder. Never wanting anyone else at his back. Saying to Dick: if there wasn’t Roy, there wouldn’t be anybody. The way they keep finding each other at the lowest of lows, facedown in bottles or looking down barrels of guns to see if they can spot the bullet. Standing there feeling stupid in the holes they’ve dug, pickaxes in hand, before turning and finding the other, just as deep as they are. Saying: gimme a boost and I’ll give you a hand.

Even if he doesn’t mean it in the same way, he means it. I want you, I want you, I want you. The inflection changes the meaning, but only by the barest degrees. 

“I love you,” Jason says, and he’s not lying, because he means them, even if it’s not always how he thinks he should.

[dykedvonte]

See like the only reason I think the others seriously believed Curly may have crashed the ship is cause he basically had a 30 Rock "I lie to myself" momentary breakdown in front of them after one too many mocktails and like completely forgot about it.

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Magic Trick, The Prayer Card, Mikey's message

This is from a reblog on @brokenwinebox post and it was quite genius to say Carmy is holding all the cards.

The show has given us a card trick since 3x01.

This is the beginning of the trick. Chekov's gun. Telling viewers to remember your card.

Then here's the legerdemain: this same prayer card appears in Carmy's Jacket pocket when it should have been Marcus's mom's prayer card.

Carmy looks surprised at the card, flips it, and takes it in for this long moment.

The sleight of hand is that the different prayer cards appear in his jacket pocket—Mikey's card is the one that he needs the most for reflection and guidance.

This could be the card performing a magic trick of its own. Or Mikey. When this card appears, is it Mikey's spirit? Maybe Carmy did not process his grief, and it represents that. It could also represent finding purpose for those who lost their way.

Maybe a serendipitous moment and a magic trick(universe—god—Mikey) caused that Card to land in his pocket. I told someone before on here that this show has spiritual themes.

A prayer card also appears on Richie's mirror, showing that he has yet to process grief about Miky's death and has lost along the way. But later in the episode, he finds his purpose.

The other time the prayer card appears- 2x01, and it appears with the Let It RIp note- with lyrics saying candles at the altar penny in your shoe- that means prosperity in marriage.

Credit to @yannaryartside for noting this, the let it Rip note has become a string to connect Sydney to Mikey, and it started with Carmy texting Sydney before reading the note and asking her if it's okay to have it at the expo station.

Mikey is telling him good luck- go live your life! And Carmy was feeling lucky that day in 2x01. He made a business deal with Jimmy. They can continue building the bear; he wants to ask Sydney out the next moment. Something Mikey would want him to do, but Carmy, being Carmy, is pulling fake lint off his jacket, waiting for the chance. (he often plays it cool with Sydney- you should come moment he acts distracted looking at something while he asks- keep it casual, Carmy)

Sidebar: It's definitely Mikey sending a message to Carmy because in the next episode, Carmy remembers Mikey and says the taste of Chicago was really fun, and Sydney's head pops into the room at the perfect moment.

I think if Mikey is an angel, he's pointing at Sydney, and Carmy hasn't opened his eyes to see she's the one- she's the person Mikey sent. (Open up your eyes! like the song Murder for One says in 3x09 as Carmy reads the prayer card)

When Carmy takes time to read the prayer card, he puts it down. He has lost his way, and the card appears when he needs it most. As he is lost on whether he should say sorry to Claire- he's lost on how he can make it up to Sydney and tell her how he feels. He needs help with Sydney being his muse. As with @vacationship post- Are we surprised one of Sydney's hair scrunchie magically appears in his apartment when he makes a sauce based on another one of Sydney's hair accessories earlier in the episode?

Note the lyrics to the song as Carmy reads the prayer card and walks away.

There's a bird that nests inside you. Sleeping underneath your skin. When you open up your wings to speak. I wish you'd let me in. All your life is such a shame, shame, shame. All your love is just a dream, dream, dream

This is Mikey talking to Carmy in those lyrics. He's telling him to let him in- to guide him. Don't waste your life because right now it's such a shame how you're wasting it. Don't let love be a dream. Love. Don't waste the moment.

This could be the answer and guidance Carmy is searching for but has yet to see. Mikey pointed him in that direction when he inspired him enough to make his original blood orange Hamachi dish. He followed his instinct, and that led him to Sydney. If the card is about finding one's way and the card is next to Sydney's hair scrunchie, it's Mikey giving him the answer—the magic trick. It's Mikey showing Carmy his purpose.

[youngyoo-apologist]

Kim Roksoo’s parents must have been really sweet and loving people.

Even with all the pain he experienced because of his uncle, and losing his parents, he still didn’t become a bad person when everything was set against him.

Like with the children averaging whatever years old, KRS takes care of them and is in general a good father(I mean I question his lack of communication towards his children, like please tell them you have a healing ability at least tell your kids dude please please please please please) but that’s just a general KRS problem coming from the years and years he spent relying only on himself for various reasons.

His parents probably loved him a lot, they cared for him and they showed him what it was like to be loved. That just makes the fact that they died so early on in his life more terrible. Kim Roksoo may not remember them well, but I like to think that when they were alive, he was happy.

[justaz]

soft!merthur obsessed with each other and being completely, glaringly obvious about it. walking close enough for their fingers to be constantly brushing, talking with their other hand and refusing to break the touch. standing next to each other in a group, slowly shifting closer and closer until they’re pressed up against each other. despite there being other people, whenever they speak the other just has to respond leading them to turn to one another and have their own back and forth, their heads tilting closer and closer until their noses are just inches apart. merlin pretending to find issues with arthur’s clothes to fix that aren’t actually there just to touch him but arthur’s not gonna comment on that bc it means he gets to feel merlin’s touch. gazing at each other across the room, across the training field, across camp, etc and just watching them exist with the softest gaze and a small, tender smile. when the other feels their gaze they look up at them first and meet their eyes unflinchingly. them staring at each other for a moment before they resume what they should be doing (albeit slightly flustered). arthur finding any excuse to keep merlin in his chambers just a little while longer when he should be retiring for bed

[bonefall]

Tbh I never read that far in DOTC but I heard so much about star flower from fandom that now hearing about it directly from you I feel so cheated. I was promised a femme fatale.. tho in hindsight considering how much these writers hate women I probably shouldn't have gotten my hopes up

I WISH we got a femme fatale. It would have been incredibly cathartic for her to make herself alluring to Clear Sky, turning his worst traits against him and getting both power and revenge. For Thunder to bond to her over it, reaching the conclusion in the end that they both had terrible parents that they need to reject.

but, knowing the Erins, they would have just had Clear Sky kill her violently and gratuitously for ever tricking him. Like how he gouged Willow Tail's eyes out. So... I guess we were doomed either way.

Anyway im cooking

[troythecatfish]

[fromtheseventhhell]

Not Arya, Robb, and Jon catching strays for not "warning" Sansa about Joffrey?? As though they didn't all meet him at the same time and have equal opportunity to understand what he was like?? It just blows my mind that somehow everybody can be blamed for her actions regarding Joffrey but Sansa herself. Apparently, she can't be expected to understand anything because nobody sat down and slowly explained everything to her using small words (not even when Ned does just that lol). And then they just ignore the fact that Sansa had a crush on Joffery and actively wanted to marry him? To the point of excusing his behavior when she witnessed his cruelty first-hand? Then they pretend that she was just "coping" with her engagement when she actively argued against Ned breaking it and went to Cersei because she thought she could stop him from doing so. There's no way they like her actual character if this is what they have to come up with to cope with her writing.

[touchbased]

in the mood to test out some (mostly) new muses so please like this for a starter from any of those listed below! i know little to nothing about them, so hoping to develop/flesh them out a lil :)

angel chau. mid thirties. pansexual. comic book creator disillusioned with the current state of the world and media. manny jacinto.

channing lennox. late twenties. bisexual. indie film actress and occasional disney princess impersonator. erin moriarty.

eleanor “ellie” hayward. early twenties. bisexual. professional surfer and island tour guide. free spirited to a fault. chloe rose robertson.

ezra aldeman. late thirties. heterosexual. final boy who survived a massacre of his family; now lives aimlessly off his inheritance. adam brody.

faith delange. mid thirties. bisexual. owner of a dying bed and breakfast that she can’t let go of. dianna agron.

lauren fisher. early thirties. bisexual. rising music producer and occasional dj who constantly judges others and the world. aurora perrineau.

naomi washington. mid twenties. lesbian. broadway star and overall insecure disaster. jaz sinclair.

peter levinson. early thirties. heterosexual. aspiring comedian (snl style) that often gets himself into stupid situations for the bit. sean teale.

seamus “sean” boland. late twenties. bisexual. crime thriller novelist struggling to continue his legacy and a bit of a himbo. paul mescal.

wyatt goodman. late twenties. bisexual. investigative reporter with a god complex and a lack of a sense of humor. harris dickinson.

[warrior-of-storms]

I drew people again :) Featuring baby Damian and little Rogue because I wanted to (also bc my sister told me to draw bby rogue and who am I to deny her?)

[milo-the-professional-yapper]

SOMEONE get Jon out of there- my man stopped the apocalypse only to be subjected to reading aloud Reddit threads and blog posts as a digital entity.

Truly a fate worse than death.

[rotten7rat]

Tell me why the Kanan Funko Pop has pale skin and dark blonde/light brown hair???

Every piece of Kanan merch has this colour scheme? Was I hallucinating during the whole show or?