#i'm sure there are other good builds but this one is called 'i have to kite 3 killers and take hits at the exit for friends'

[seat-safety-switch]

Like most people in today's civilization, I am extremely competitive. With artificially limited resources, we are forced into a constant state of low-grade warfare with our strangers, neighbours, and even loved ones. One of the most common ways in which this manifests is stoplight racing.

We've all done it. Guy next to you pulls up to the red light you're waiting at. You rev your engine a little bit, sidestep the clutch and now you're in a drag race. Problem is, the roads are full of other cars, which is a pain in the ass when you're trying to stomp on the ego of a teenager driving his mom's Durango. And the cops don't like it, because they don't teach them how to get a good sixty-foot time in cop driving school, which makes them notoriously jealous.

As with any other illegal, dangerous event, the best way to legally enjoy it is to hang out with some very rich people while you do so. Go to a private race track? What do I look like, the Pope? No, with the help of a friend I'm calling Mr. Bolt Cutters, and his common-law wife Mrs. Angle Grinder, I was able to borrow a sailboat from the local marina and enter the local sailboat races.

You might think racing a sailboat is kind of lame. There's no engine, so you're spending most of your time leaning out of the boat like an asshole, trying to make the sail catch the wind. It's basically like going to the gym, except you're building killer abs and getting all sweaty instead of posting your gains on Instagram. And you discover a lot about yourself in an event like this. I certainly learned from my mistakes during this event. Primarily, I found out that there was not a sailboat race that weekend, and that I had actually stolen a thousand-horsepower twin-engined cocaine-smuggling boat instead. I am positive that this kind of mistake happens all the time.

After running up and down the river at full throttle for a few hours, I finally beached the thing while trying to outrun the cops for the fourth or fifth time that night. Don't be sad, though: I made sure to go get my plasma cutter and chop those engines right out of the boat. This kind of power will really come in handy at the stoplight drags next time I have to drive across town to visit my parole officer.

[djarinova]

In shades of grey in candlelight / I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason

Spencer Reid x gn!reader content - reader is in an unfulfilling long term relationship, thoughts of cheating, best friend!Reid, friends to lovers, slight angst from reader longing to be loved properly again, cheating is slightly romanticised, confessions, teeny amount of angst words - 3k (how did this even happen omg) reputation event masterlist

♡—How long should you hold on to something after it's proven time and time again to be the source of your pain? And why does missing your best friend hurt so much more than missing your boyfriend?

It had been almost 4 weeks since you'd last spoken to Spencer—a mix of his work, the weekend he spent visiting his mother and the looming sense of… something… that had been hanging over your head like a dark cloud had kept the two of you apart for longer than usual.

Spencer would have been able to identify the issue that had been plaguing you, he's always been good at that—even before he'd joined the BAU.

He had been able to figure out that you'd failed a maths test when you were 12 years old. He had been able to tell when your parents had had a fight when you were 15 years old. He had been able to correctly work out that you'd ordered yourself the wrong flavour of milkshake—over the phone, without seeing your face—when you were 18 years old. And as you got older, your problems getting more and more adult, he had been able to figure out through missed calls and unanswered texts that you'd had your heart broken again. And again. And again.

That's what he would have said was the cause of your behaviour over the past few weeks—you've changed your hair, thrown out a bunch of old clothes, rearranged and then rearranged again almost all the rooms in your flat and you've been out drinking with your friends twice already this week (not that this is a particularly bad thing, or even entirely unlike you, but you mentioned to Spencer once that going to a bar or pub for a drink was only really fun when you were with him, and it had lit a spark deep within him that he refused to acknowledge). But this time you know he'd have gotten it wrong. You haven't broken up with anyone, you're still very much coupled up and there's no sign of your boyfriend wanting to dump you at all.

That's the problem.

You roll your eyes, there's no point in feeling sorry for myself. I'm the only one that can fix it.

You scoff. The faint smell of your neighbours baking wafts over you, and you can hear him and his boyfriend giggling through your shared wall. A lump in your throat begins to form, and the familiar sting behind your eyes returns as you busy your hands with tidying away the washing up (that you had accidentally washed three times now.) The tears that fall feel like they're burning your skin as they run down your cheeks, as though the droplets are going to leave small scalding streaks from your eyes to your chin.

A new wave of bitterness envelopes you and a strangled yell escapes your lips before you have the chance to think. You hear your neighbour's pause, likely raising their eyebrows at each other as if to say what the hell is wrong with next door before quickly returning to being the lovey-dovey super cutesy couple that they are. And they are. Super cutesy. You've seen them around the building before, even one time accidentally ending up in the same café after a building wide fire alarm went off. They invited you to sit with them—your boyfriend was with his mates—as they didn't want you left on your own so late at night. It was nice, awkward, sure, but nice. Conversation was easy, they seemed to bounce off of eachother in ways that you and your boyfriend never have—at least not for many years now. Their laughter was contagious and yet as you said your goodbyes and slunk back to your lonely apartment you couldn't help the twinges of envy that plagued the back of your mind.

He doesn't look at me like that. He is never that enthusiastic about dating me. He would never gush about our first date like that. (And deep down you know he could say the same things about you.)

So, yeah. That wasn't very fun to sit with.

You somehow feel happy knowing that Spencer would incorrectly guess the reason for your ongoing sadness. For some reason the thought of being unknowable to him has you frenzied… A strangled noise escapes your throat—a laugh! Christ. It was a laugh, despite how bitter and angry it sounded.

Maybe frenzied isn't the right word… But god! You don't know! At least he would actually care. At least he would want to try and get to the bottom of your feelings, to try and understand why you've been jumpy and on edge and almost hyperactive in the way you've been non stop moving recently.

Tap tap tap.

The noise makes you jump out of your skin, heart thumping in your chest as your eyes dart to the clock. It blinks back at you.

20:37

You chastise yourself, it's probably next door coming to ask if you could keep your yells of frustration down while they're having a relaxing evening. Embarrassment floods over your face and you can feel the tears threaten to fall again at the thought of being confronted about your outburst. You can imagine the look of pity on their faces—although a hidden part of you hopes that they're coming to invite you over, to welcome you into their warm home, to smell their freshly baked bread and taste the chocolate chip cookies.

Your feet pad heavily against the wooden floor as you walk out of the kitchen towards the front door—tap tap tap. A further set of knocks has you almost tripping over your feet as you rush the final few paces. You swing the door open without a thought, not wanting the neighbours to have to knock again.

You spare no thought to the tear stains that have marked your face…

“I'm so sorry I didn't mean to be—Spencer? Wha–what are you doing here?” You splutter.

“I tried calling, but you didn't answer. Have you been crying?”

“I—well, yes I have but it's fine—I didn't expect to see you, you've been so busy lately.” You take a deep breath, for a brief second—and it was brief—you had been relieved to find that it was only Spencer behind the door, but it didn't take long for the embarrassment to claw its way back up your spine and sink its teeth into your flesh once more.

His eyes bore into you as if he's trying to look inside you. He scans your face, your movements, he watches your hands fidget nervously with the hem of your shirt—before you notice him noticing you and you flatten your palms against your sides in an awkward, unnatural manner.

“May I come in?” He asks, his voice is gentle and it's almost enough to make you fall to the floor in despair.

A hum is all you can manage in response. You quickly side step out of his way, locking the door behind him as he removes his jacket and scarf and hangs then neatly on the third hook from the left—the one that's always left bare, just for him.

You clear your throat. “What are you doing here, Spence?”

He pauses mid stride—he’s already halfway to the kitchen and if you had known he was coming over then there would a cup of coffee on the side waiting for him, in his favourite burgundy mug, the one with a chip on the lip—and tilts his head at you as if to say isn't it obvious.

“I'm here to see you.” He states, incredibly matter of factly, as if the mere question coming from your lips is completely ridiculous. Why else would he be here?

“I—” You start, but Spencer disappears around the corner before you are able to get any more words out. You huff, feeling slightly unnerved by his sudden arrival and subsequent behaviour since setting foot on your doorstep. There is nothing else in the world that can make you as happy as he can. Something which both terrifies you, and excites you a great deal.

You step foot into the kitchen and you are unsurprised to find Spencer already in the process of making himself a coffee. He pauses once more when he catches sight of you and he holds a second mug out towards you in question. You shake your head. You don't think you'd be able to stomach anything until you can get him to speak to you properly.

A thought suddenly occurs to you, and it may be the first time you ever fully allow yourself to truly think it. Because although it's not unusual for Spencer to visit you in the evening, sometimes even coming over as late as 1 or 2 in the morning—he gets back from cases at the most unpredictable times—do people think you're seeing each other? The two of you have been friends for years, it's not weird for a friend to come over at all hours of the day… right?

“Spence, are you alright?” You pause, eyeing his very full cup of caffeine. “Haven't you just got back from a case? I can make up the sofa bed if you want to get some sleep.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Why do I feel so weird about asking him to stay over? We're friends. It's what friends do.

“I have something I need to talk to you about.” He ignores your questions, but you can't bring yourself to be annoyed at him. Not when his knuckles are white from how hard he grips the cup and his eyes flit from your hands to your eyes to your mouth and back to your hands.

Wait—your mouth?!

“I have something I need to talk to you about.” He repeats. He closes the gap between the two of you with only a couple of steps. His steaming coffee is still clutched in his hands, but his fingertips seem restless, as if he knows where he wants them to be, but he just can't—or won't—move them there.

“Okay.” You whisper.

Your mouth feels dry—maybe turning down Spencer’s offer for a coffee was a mistake… He's barely an arms length away from you now, if you were to reach your hand out towards him it would brush up against the navy cardigan he has on. It looks so soft and you can't help but wonder how it would feel around your shoulders. Would it be baggy? Would it fit perfectly? And would Spencer want to come back from a case to find you curled up on the sofa while wearing it?

Your neighbour’s laughter ripples through the air like thunder. It's gone before you have time to register the noise fully, but it's enough to snap you out of your trance and you tear your eyes away from Spencer's torso. It was as though he was waiting for you to make eye contact with him again, because he immediately puts his cup down on the side—more clumsily than usual, you'd be surprised if there wasn't an extra chip on the lip now—and takes the smallest of steps towards you. You are almost toe to toe now.

“I–uh–meant to ask you earlier… about your boyfriend.” He hesitates. “Presumably he's not around…”

There's two ways you could take his question.

Part of you wants to lie, to say that no, he's not around, you dumped him months ago—when your friends first told you that you should—and that you weren't expecting any company tonight. It would be just you and Spencer, no interruptions. Besides, Spencer knows that your boyfriend doesn't live with you, it's been the topic of many a heated discussion, but… could you just pretend you misunderstood? Could you say that no, he's not around, he's probably out with his friends somewhere. Could you admit that he hasn't texted you back in almost 4 days? Could you say he's not around, in fact, he hasn't been around you for 12 days?

But Spencer doesn't give you any time to think through what to say. You gasp when his hand touches your arm and he laces his fingers through yours without so much as a word, as if it was the most natural thing for him to do. As if he had done it a thousand times. The certainty with which he touched you has your heart pounding. What is he thinking? All you can do is blink up at him. His eyes are swimming with questions, but the only one he voices is, “Is this okay?”

Your head moves before you can think and he breathes a deep sigh of relief. You haven't felt as calm as this in months, and yet somehow it feels like you're suffocating. His touch is warm and the dusting of pink on his cheeks has you feeling a rush of anxiety—but the good kind, the kind of anxiety you get when your crush looks at you, the kind that comes hand in hand with a first kiss… And yet you know you need to pull away. Before something more happens.

You force yourself to pull your hand out of Spencer's and the emptiness returns immediately. You stumble away, bumping into the counter as you do so, and you utter a small yelp when your hip hits the corner. Tears sting your eyes and before you know it Spencer has his arms around you. Somehow knowing what you need before you are even able to think it. You choke out a broken apology—for what, you don't even know—and all Spencer can think to do is squeeze you against his chest, whispering soft comforts into your ear.

You stay like that for a while—long enough that the pain at your hip is now only a dull ache. Your throat is dry from all the heavy breathing and you feel a slight throbbing pain in your head, but you do, somehow, feel a little better.

That is until your emotionally fried brain catches up with itself. And then you cringe, hard. Embarrassment floods your veins and you feel your cheeks heat up by an alarming degree—like someone, somehow, is holding the sun directly against your skin. You are acutely aware of how closely Spencer is watching you, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, unsure of whether there's a look of hurt, confusion or pity on his face—unsure of whether it matters—and all you can do is stare through your blurry eyes at what you think is your feet, but what could just as easily be a pair of furry, blue alien slippers.

You scold yourself. You fell apart all because he... held your hand? God. What a mess he must think you are. And—oh! How he probably thinks you are the worst person in the world for even entertaining the possibility of his feelings for you when you aren't even single. If he even thinks that what you did was entertaining the possibility. Or maybe you completely misread the situation and he was only trying to comfort you as a friend... But what if he thinks you have no interest in him? What if he thinks he's ruined your friendship and your relationship? What if you're reading into things far too much and he doesn't like you like that and he thinks you're a bad person for even thinking about kissing him–not that he would know that, he can't read your mind–and you've certainly never thought about kissing him before and especially not right now–he doesn't know how much you long for him to sweep your off your feet—

"I like you Spencer."

You blink. Slowly you bring your head up and meet his gaze. He takes a shallow breath, as if he had been holding it for quite some time.

Christ.

You only meant to think the words, and yet somehow they slipped past your tongue out into the space between the two of you. An accidental confession of something you hadn't even consciously thought until 0.2 seconds ago.

Well I can't take it back now.

He holds your gaze. His vision blurs ever so slightly and he blinks back his unshed tears before they get the chance to overwhelm him. He clears his throat before speaking, but even then his voice is low, quiet, as if trying not to spook an animal.

"You... do?"

You nod, and he takes another obvious sigh of relief, deeper this time.

"I do. I like you a lot actually."

It's as though hearing you voice your feelings for him has broken down the very last wall between the two of you. Your mind flits briefly to thoughts about your boyfriend, before shutting them down so violently that you almost feel sick. You taste metal in your mouth and you realise with a start that you'd bitten down so hard on your lip that you'd drawn blood. You reach for the closest available source to wash the bitter taste away—Spencer's coffee. And he watches as you take a sip, your eyes are closed but somehow he can sense that they are closer to shedding tears than his are. He reaches an arm towards you and gently begins to rub soothing circles on your waist. The touch sends an electric pulse throughout your entire body and you almost drop the mug in shock. It's like all at once you realise just how stupid you were for allowing yourself to be so miserable for all this time. Why have you been putting up with a boyfriend who barely touches you when one touch from Spencer has your insides burning? Why have you been putting up with a boyfriend who doesn't care about your feelings unless they are positively affecting him, when the first thing Spencer asked you tonight was if you had been crying?

For right now all you care about is the way Spencer's eyes glisten when they look at you, how warm his hands are when they touch your face and how the quiet laughter from your neighbours no longer makes you feel as lonely as it did before.

You felt like such a fool. But it seemed like realising this fact was enough to set you free. It seemed like the acknowledgement was enough. You didn't give any thought now to the things you would have to do this coming week—the breaking up, the collection of your things from his place (although at this point there is only a toothbrush and a single pair of joggers that haven't moved from their place on the back of his sofa since you washed them and left them there). Hell, even the possibility of having Spencer there with you hadn't crossed your mind.

[sweetbabymantykes]

How do you keep habitats for swamp-dwelling pokémon like Clodsire or Whiscash appropriately... "swampy"?

I've recently come into possession of an Alolan Muk. I'm trying to figure out what sort of habitat it needs online, but all I've found is someone talking about "sludge ponds".

How do you figure out what sort of purity to keep the swamps at? I know she's supposed to eat trash, but I don't want her habitat to just be an uncleaned pool. Do you have to clean the swamps at the aquarium?

Well, uh...Muk is a bit of a special case. For most 'swamp' habitats we make, the most important factor is the substrate. Clodsire and Whiscash specifically require mud-bottom habitats, which means we bring in a lot of silty soil and leaf litter to make sure their environments are accurate and the water's acidity is high enough. Getting the right plants in there too really helps minimize the amount of work that needs to be put in filtering and cleaning the water, most of the cleaning we do of the wetland exhibits involves pruning plants and rotating leaf litter and adding peat moss, but most of this advice isn't particularly helpful with the Muk family.

The thing about Muk, and especially Alolan Muk, is that they feed off of human pollution. The 'sludge pools' in question are usually full of this- trash, oil, chemicals, industrial sludge. And to that end you really can't keep anything else in there, ideal living conditions for Muk are toxic to everything except the most resilient poison types. It's great that you want to do better for your Muk in terms of food, but if they aren't fed something with a diet of enough heavy metals and toxic chemicals- the chemicals are especially important for Alolan Muk, the reactions is where they get a lot of their energy- they get aggressive and destructive, and then they get sick.

I'm not an expert on poison types, but given the conversations I've had with other competitive trainers, you can at least curate the type of garbage your friend eats. The fancy curated diet one of my IRL friends feeds their Alolan Muk consists of cadmium paint, industrial pesticide, and batteries (charged and dead). Kind of expensive, but this is a diet for a high-level competitively-trained Muk, so given that it's still in the same ballpark of other high-level diet costs. I'm not sure how you plan to train your Muk, but I think this diet is a pretty good base to build off of. Paint, household chemicals, and scrap metal generally aren't difficult to come by. And if that doesn't satisfy them, give your local sanitation department a call and see if they're looking for help with waste disposal- I'm sure your Muk would be more than happy to help.

[austinslounge]

The only thing that really bothers me about the GG situation is that the screenshot with Kaia was taken in the house where Austin was shooting for Cartier before SAG. This is obvious from the layout, interior, etc. (I've looked at parts of this house a lot in different photos). The photographer who took the pictures wrote that this was Austin's house. Let's be honest, it looks like the truth, the house is too modest for Kaia + the same photographer did a black-and-white photo shoot about Austin's trip to Anaheim and there was the same house. Q: Why was Austin watching GG not in this house, but Kaia?

Ahhh.... the great house debate comes up again lol 😆

Well, I'll provide you with evidence and receipts, and you can make up your own mind. How about that?

Golden Globe Awards & SAG Awards:

Callum and Austin already stated (twice in fact) that they watched the GG's together in Austin's house ("Butler's pad"), and the author of the article below even went as far as to say that Austin and Callum watched the Golden Globes TOGETHER ALONE.... in "Butler's pad", with **"no glam girlfriends"** lol 🤭

EXHIBIT A

There's also the fact that Callum wasn't sure if Austin had a dog or not lol. 😅 In an interview for MOTA, he questioned Austin on whether or not he had a dog. Now, if Callum were in the same home where Kaia was watching the GG's, why would he be confused on whether or not Austin had a dog? 🤔 Wouldn't he have seen the dog at the house?

Cartier & SAG Awards

I assume you're referring to this?

I'm not sure how you can tell where Austin is from this photoshoot for Cartier above, but keep in mind that the SAG Awards took place in Feb of 2023...

EXHIBIT B

And Kaia didn't move into her house until April of 2023.

So, wherever Austin did that Cartier photoshoot, it wouldn't have been at Kaia's new house. Sorry!

Keep in mind also, that even the media outlets weren't sure whether Austin was actually moving into that house, or if he was just helping Kaia move, like the rest of her family.

This is from Page Six:

EXHIBIT C

Next, we have the fact that Austin was spotted (long after the Kaia move day) after going to the gym, getting mail at a mailbox at a gate 📬 at a home that looked nothing like Kaia's home. 👀

EXHIBIT D

Austin's Mailbox and Gate:

Kaia's House and Gate:

Kaia's House BEFORE the Gate:

*Hint: Check the shrubbery even

Last I checked, shrubbery and mailboxes don't typically move lol. 😄

It is very customary for celebrities to install gates in front of their houses for privacy reasons, so this is nothing new.

Another fun fact, the Daily Mail themselves referred to the house as "Kaia's home" in their article regarding the Casa Migos Halloween bash.

EXHIBIT E

There's also the fact that when you look at Kaia's House, especially her bedroom, there's nothing with Austin in it. Even the photos above the bedpost in one of the bedrooms are all Kaia-centric. Usually, when you live with someone, you have your stuff and their stuff as well.

Greg Williams did do a photoshoot with Austin for Hollywood Authentic. The photoshoot did take place in what we know to be Kaia's House. We do not deny that Austin spends time with his girlfriend in her house.

What we are not fully sold on is the "Austin and Kaia bought a house together" claim. Idk about other fans, but I actually think that Kaia's parents helped Kaia buy her own house in Malibu (close to them), and Austin (like a good boyfriend) helped her move into that house.

I think Austin has a smaller "pad" on his own. It would explain why sometimes we've seen them taking separate cars, even when they're out together with her family.

So, there's the evidence Anon! You can feel free to believe whatever you want, but those are the facts for now.

[gothamite-rambler]

Tim's and Konnor first kiss

Context: This is just my headcanon where Tim did date Konnor, it didn't work out and then later when he fully realized he was bisexual and reconnected with Bernard he started dating him. Because why pick on ship when you can have both and write ship script fics about it? Plus I do secretly headcanon Tim as being the opposite of Jason and he's great at dating and flirting even when he's being a nerd. Tim is the third Robin and has been questioning his sexuaility, but finds himself attracted to both genders and he has though Konnor was foine! Issue is while Konnor has been out of the closet for a few years, Tim isn't sure the superhero would want to be with him. So he shoots his shot, will he get that kiss?

Red Robin yawned as Konnor Kent discussed the plan to sneak into LexCorp. Though he usually managed three to four hours of sleep, sometimes exhaustion crept in. Still, he wasn't complaining—he was next to Konnor. The boy's effervescent energy always kept him focused.

Konnor (eagerly): If we go here, here, and here, we can drop down there and take them out. That way, we get everything squared away.

Robin glanced over the blueprints Konnor had drawn himself and nodded.

Robin (genuine): Good plan.

Konnor (surprised): That's it?

Robin (casually): Yeah. Were you expecting me to say something else?

Konnor (confused): You usually pick apart other plans, and by the end of it, the whole thing is changed. You do a good job at that—don’t get me wrong—but there’s nothing you want to fix on mine?

Robin chuckled, resting his arm on the table.

Robin (light-hearted): For others, I would, but yours has a lot of thought put into it, and you know Lex's buildings better than I do. It's a solid plan.

Konnor (smiling softly): I mean, I’m not just some dumb guy who can fly and is super strong. I have layers. Some people misunderstand that about me. I can be really good at planning, too. Thanks, Robin.

Tim (smiling): No one else is around, dude. You can call me Tim.

Konnor (perking up): Seriously? Cool! I felt weird saying "Robin" at times. "Tim Drake" is a more badass name.

Tim (smiling, sweet tone): Konnor isn't bad either.

Konnor (curious): Really? I always hated my name.

Tim (shrugging): You have a good name, regardless of the connotations it has. And I agree, you're not dumb—there are many great things about you.

Konnor (raising an eyebrow with a knowing smile): Tim, are you coming on to me?

Tim sat back, resting his arms behind his head.

Tim (coy tone): Maybe I am, maybe I'm not.

Konnor: Hm, all right. If I said you're attractive to me and I've been wanting to kiss you for months since coming out, what would your response be?

Tim chuckled, sitting up straight and scooching his chair closer to Konnor.

Tim: I'd say I've been feeling the same about you.

Konnor pouted, tapping his fingers on the table, contemplating whether this was Tim being truthful. He could hear the man's heartbeat slightly speeding up, but he wasn't sure if it was infatuation or deception.

Konnor (slightly dejected tone): I'm not going to lie, I'm worried this is a dumb trick you're pulling on me.

Tim tilted his head, his tired eyes reflecting confusion.

Tim: Hm? Why would you think that?

Konnor: Because you're straight, right? You were with Stephanie. Heck, I've even met your girlfriend before you got involved with Steph, and I'd rather not be your 'experiment.'

Konnor glanced at his blueprints, trying to concentrate on the mission rather than dwelling on the painful possibilities of "what if." However, he couldn’t help but notice Tim's expression shift from coy to anxious.

Tim (worry in his tone): No, no, no, you're not an experiment or anything like that. I'm not sure what I like because my brain isn't saying I only like women, but I don’t only like men. I—

Tim sighed, covering his eyes in embarrassment. Konnor turned in his chair to face his friend and took his hand gently.

Tim (softly): I met up with this old friend from high school, and after saving him as Robin and being with him… I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to be close to him like I was with a woman... but then he left. Then I noticed I felt that way for a while and when I see you, and I want that same thing. I still like women, but I… what am I?

Konnor chuckled, softly rubbing the top of Tim's hand.

Konnor (sympathetic tone): I went through something similar when I realized this when I came out. You might be bi, dear boy. Are… you okay?

Tim (sighing while keeping his head down): Yeah.

Konnor: Good, because you look like you've been holding that secret in for a long time. If I'm right, I don't want to assume anything. Sexuality is a weird spectrum, but I'm getting the feeling you aren't just straight or gay.

Tim (hesitantly): You're… right. It seems… It is... I mean... I am bisexual, I think.

Konnor smiled warmly.

Konnor: I'm here if you want to talk or… kiss. Both work.

Tim chuckled, taking his hand back to remove his eye mask.

Tim: I thought you didn't want that. I want to do that, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable; I really want to kiss you, but… I don’t know. God, I can't think of the right choice.

Konnor (softly): Since it's not a trick and you opened up to me, I feel more… reclined to let you have your first kiss with the perfect superhuman.

Tim smirked, trying to glare playfully at Konnor.

Tim: You know "inclined" is the right word, and that’s a bit of an ego trip… but no one else is here.

Konnor nodded, and Tim sighed, leaning in. Their lips met quickly at first, but Konnor pulled him back for a deeper kiss that left Tim stunned. His cheeks flushed a bright shade of crimson, his eyes widening in surprise as he momentarily froze. His arms stayed at his sides for a heartbeat, but as they parted for a breath, Tim kissed Konnor again, feeling the man's hand rest gently against his neck.

Tim placed his hand on Konnor’s hip, pulling him closer and taking in a shaky breath. As the initial shock wore off, warmth spread through him, instinctively leaning into the kiss and melting into the connection between them.

He kept kissing Konnor, feeling his heartbeat race as the seconds slipped by. Feeling Tim's steady breath against his lips sent tingles down Konnor's spine. He lightly gripped Tim's arm, drawing him closer, feeling the undeniable strength and warmth radiating off him. In that moment, nothing else mattered; the world around them faded into a blur.

Tim's lips were soft yet confident, as if he were exploring the depths of Konnor’s emotions with every lingering brush. Konnor tightened his fingers around Tim's arm, pulling him in even closer, as if trying to fuse their bodies together.

As they broke apart, Konnor's breath mingled with Tim's, both panting slightly from the rush of adrenaline. Tim looked at him with an expression that blended surprise and something deeper, almost tender.

Then Tim promptly fell forward, his eyes rolling back in his head. Konnor caught him, letting his friend rest on his chest to prevent him from sliding onto his lap.

Konnor (jokingly): Yeah, don't want anyone walking in if you landed on my legs. I didn't know my kiss was that powerful.

Tim (dazed): To be fair, you're the first man I've kissed.

Konnor (fist pumping): All right!

Tim sat up and sighed happily, then covered his eyes in embarrassment, shaking his head.

Tim: Does this get ea—s

Konnor (interrupting): I'm gonna stop you there. When I came out as bi, it felt like I left this confined space; it made sense. I felt free, but that's just the beginning. Dating is the difficult part, but we can talk about that after the mission. We can go to the KFC combination Taco Bell afterward.

Tim (laughing): Is that a date?

Konnor returned to reviewing his blueprints but kept a sly smile on his face as he glanced at Tim.

Konnor: It can be, but LexCorp first.

Tim nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. The realization that he was bisexual felt surreal but in a good way. Konnor was right; it felt freeing. While he still had a lot to learn about himself, it felt good to have an answer.

[thisonegirl]

Hello, whoever you are

pairing : touya “dabi” todoroki x reader rating : sfw warnings : mentions of death wc : 1.5k (edited) part I part II part III ps: yes, I'm aware that it's unlikely that he'd be able to speak this much but just pretend okay

Y/N’s body shook violently where she stood. 

Her mind spinning as the question of whether she was doing the right thing plagued her.

With the war being over and everyone worried about rebuilding their lives from the destruction, Y/N had a secondary worry. She had seen the destruction Dabi left and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was alive after all that happened.

In a singular moment of courage in her life, she asked. Such a simple action that she knew would have further repressed hence her fear, but she still did it. 

“How do you know him?”

She had been asked in return. And so the retelling of that story began. Luckily, she had no useful information so it wasn’t too bad that she hadn’t spoken up before but the guilt of having kept silent for so long gnawed at her conscience.

Now, she stood before the hospital with her feet glued to the ground beneath her, staring at the building that now held her… acquaintance? If she could even call him that.

“You’re the one who was asking about him, right?”

A soft yet raspy voice asked from beside her. Its sudden appearance startled her, making her head snap to the left to face its owner.

It was a boy. His hair was half white and half red and a burn scar marred the left side of his face. Y/N recognized him. She had seen him a couple of times on television and she knew that he was Endeavor's youngest son. The half-cold, half-hot hero. 

Remembering that he had asked a question, she snapped out of her trance just enough to provide a nod as a response.

“Are you going in?” He asked.

“Oh- Uh, I-I’m not sure,” she stammered. She wasn’t sure she was willing to face him. She didn’t even know if he wanted to see her. Especially since she so rudely sent him away that one night.

“Why not?” The question felt a bit intrusive but she responded either way.

“I don’t think he’d want to see me,” she explained.

“He doesn’t want to see anyone. He hates all of us actually but what matters is that we’re there regardless,” the softness of his tone soothed Y/N. The trembling of her body slowly eased as he offered a comforting smile.

“Wanna come in with me?” 

She nodded following him as they made their way inside the hospital. It was full, all of them were to be fair. She felt a bit relieved that she wouldn’t have to navigate these full halls in search of the correct room as the boy walked with confidence so she was sure he already knew the way. 

As they neared the door of the room where Dabi would be in, their steps slowed significantly until they reached a full stop right in front of said door.

“You can go in first.”

“No!” She burst out before she could stop herself, “I mean- uh… h-he’s your brother. You should go first.” 

“Like you said, he’s my brother soI come here quite often. Maybe seeing a new face would be good for him,” he said. Sighing, she nodded before hesitantly opening the door. 

The room was mostly bare except for a large machine a couple of chairs in front of it. With furrowed brows, Y/N slowly inched closer to it only to gasp at the sight before her. Inside the machine, dwelled an unrecoverably burnt Dabi and that when it clicked: it was his life support.

Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the man’s deteriorated state. Was there anything she could’ve done to make him see reason? To make him stay that night when he had dinner at her home? 

“What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarser than before and he spoke slowly as though uttering each word was a struggle. It likely was actually.

“I came to see you,” she whispered, still shocked by his state.

“Why?”

“I don’t know…” she trailed off, not knowing what to say in general. She stared at him as they stood before each other in silence, both analyzing the other.

“I guess you were right,” he said after what felt like an eternity of silence. Y/N knew exactly what he meant and it broke her heart that that was his first thought. “I should’ve stayed with you that night.”

“I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say.

“My family visits me everyday. They missed me all this time,” she could swear she heard his voice tremble a bit, “I could’ve just gone home, maybe if I had stayed with you, I would’ve eventually.”

“I met your younger brother, the one from UA. He seemed nice,” she said in a shaky voice, only then did she notice she was crying.

“Yeah, he comes by a lot too. I used to hate him, you know,” he admitted.

“You hated everyone,” Y/N retorted.

“I know. But I hated him first and most,”

“Why? He seems to love you so much,” Y/N questioned, emboldened by the fact that he was already opening up to her.

“I wanted to be what he was in my dad’s eyes,” the confession broke her heart. To feel so inadequate and unloved that he turned to cruelty and villainy was a heartbreaking thing. 

Y/N knew that Endeavor must’ve felt guilty for all that happened and quite frankly, he deserved to feel so.

“How are you?” She asked. Only after did she process how stupid her question was in face of his current circumstances, “Nevermind, I-“

“I’m fine…” he responded, “might not look like it but I am,”

“Oh but -“

“How? I got my family back and I know I don’t have much longer so it’s nice to have them around for now,”

Her heart stopped for a split second. I don't have much longer. What?

“W-What do you mean by that?” She questioned with a slight quiver to her lip as she felt her chest tighten as tears flow faster.

“You know what I mean,” he said. A sob escaped her lips, “I didn’t know I matter this much to you,” he continued, “now I really regret not staying.”

“I wish you stayed too,” she cried. “I hoped you’d come back or at least not go to them. I should’ve tried to make you stay! I should’ve done something!”

“No. There was nothing you could’ve done,” he opposed, “nothing that wouldn’t be met with danger and you had to think about the kids too.”

She didn’t respond any further. Just stood there sobbing her heart out as she struggled to speak.

“I could’ve loved you,” Dabi confessed, “I knew I could when you called me Dabi and I hated it.” Y/N’s sobs stopped as she stared at him in pure shock. Her heart sped up, pounding against her chest as she struggled to make sense of what he said.

“I think I did- or do love you,” she said, “I think that’s why I feel so guilty.”

“Don’t. I brought this on myself.”

“Still! Everyone did their best to try and help and I just sat there like a coward!” She burst out, “I could have done something!”

“It doesn’t matter now. All we can do it think about the future,”

“You just said you don’t have long,” she sobbed.

“I know. But I want you to be here for the time I have left.”

She shook her head. With her legs finally growing tired, she took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Touya’s machine.

“Why did everything have to be like this?” She wondered out loud.

“I don’t know.”

A knock on the door called for both of their attention. A warning that their time was up. Sniffling and wiping her face, she got up from her seat and looked at Touya once more.

“Can I come by again?” She asked hopefully.

“Yes, I’d like that,” he responded, making her smile softly.

“Bye for now then-“ she stopped hesitantly. “Is it Dabi or Touya now?” 

“I’ll be whoever for you,” he responded. She smiled shyly before continuing her goodbyes and leaving the room.

Finding Touya’s brother still waiting in the hallway, she felt bad for the time she took, “Hi, thanks for helping me find his room,” she said to the boy once he noticed her presence.

“No problem,” he smiled, “hope to see you again.”

“You will,” she said confidently.

She left the hospital feeling much lighter and at ease. It was bittersweet but she decided to only focus on the sweetness of the situation rather than the bitterness of it.

The next day, Y/N walked into the hospital with no hesitation. She found his room with little to no effort and sat before him with a new found sense of what she could describe as belonging.

“Hello,” she said, smiling at him from the other side of the glass of the machine where he laid.

“Is it Touya or Dabi to you,” he said, sensing a little teasing in his tone.

“Hello, whoever you are,” she teased back.

The laughter they shared felt like a marking of a new beginning. They were both aware of how short lived it would be but that didn’t matter at that moment. They figured that the ‘now’ was more important and what they should focus on.

——————————

masterlist

[plusvanity]

Thanks to your blog — that I discovered randomly — I got sucked into the whole Mayhem lore. 🥲 I got the general order and gist of the things (especially around the whole mythos that people build over the years) but there is one thing that I can't stop thinking and it just bothers me.

So, we all already know that Varg and Øystein start as friends, good ones at that. Varg admires Øystein meanwhile Øystein thinks they share the same vision music wise, they burn churches together, he defends him from the press (and generally TO ME, it seems like it was Ø doing the heavy lifting and all the work in this friendship but whatever) and so on; until Varg's opinion of him shifted all of a sudden: Øystein became full of flaws, or only flaws at that point, and the tension arises. Many people spoke about how they were kind of fighting for dominance of the BM scene, but really, how much is this a factoid? Yeah Varg can brag alllll he wants about how Øystein was jealous because he was becoming more popular, but to me it's more that Ø was just annoyed by his behaviour, he did not feel threatened of being 'dethroned'; it reads like a fantasy of Varg (that besides, came out of nowhere and all of a sudden in the scene meanwhile Øystein was already a well established personality). I also do not really agree on the stance that Øystein was a megalomaniac, but I'll put that aside.

Varg at a certain point says that he 'listened to a call' where Ø was talking about how he wanted (and would) kill him. Is this even true or pulled out from his ass to justify himself? I only found one source that mentions briefly that he THOUGHT about 'getting to him first' but A) he never really wanted that nor was violent and B) it was a private conversation that got out after his death, and I'm referring to Mortiis.

Either way, it does seem that Øystein was a bit preoccupied when it came to Varg. He wanted him out and most importantly, far from himself. There is also what I'll label as a rumor that Ø was agitated after hearing that one clairvoyant (sprinkle of salt). So why would he EVER open the door to him that night? It certainly was weird and he knew that Varg was dangerous, hence why, among other things, he wanted to put him in jail. And even Varg admits that Øystein was clearly uncomfortable seeing him. Would Varg have killed him even if Øystein never opened that damn door (oh, how I wish!), or would his impulsive anger cool down?

Varg and Øystein started as friends because Varg was looking up to Øystein. I have no doubt that Varg was putting up a mark at first to seem more likeable, to get closer to Øystein and eventually become relevant in the Black Metal scene since back then he was a nobody and Øystein was a well-established personality between their friends. As time progressed, Varg's admiration turned into jealousy and envy since he was an undisclosed egomaniac and wanted to have what his 'mentor' had. Their fight for dominance is not a rumor. It is a fact that led to Øystein's tragic end.

No one can blame Øystein for getting sick of Varg's bullshit and giving him the taste of his own medicine by talking badly about Varg's on his back. I believe their animosity was going back and forth because I think I'm one of the few people who believe that Øystein had a bit of an ego too, because after all he was leading a brand new music scene and he was entitled to his position. I don't necessarily think there is something bad about this because after all he was the one (together with Pelle) who built their own, unique style. Whether he really felt threatened by Vikernes or not, we can't tell for sure.

Varg will use everything in his side of the story to make people believe that he was right all along in what he did and not only that, but he even 'did the right thing' by his delusional, egoistic and envious standards, so, my suggestion is to believe anybody else but Varg. You cannot tell what is real and what is fiction, including the call that he pretends he heard. I would say (with indulgence) that 90% of what he states is pulled straight of his ass. He is a nothing but a pathological liar and that's it.

I believe that Øystein was, to a certain extent, having the thought of Varg doing 'something' against, but when all they ever did was throwing empty threats, how could Øystein be sure that this time Varg means business? He wanted Varg out of his life, that's for certain. Vikernes' actions cause him bad publicity and his shop, Helvete, to close.

Why Øystein opened the door that night, I can only speculate the most plausible answer. It was 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning and he woke up from his sleep, too tired to realize how late it must've been, and answering the door came as an automatic reflex. He didn't know who was waiting on the other side and he was surprised to see Varg there. In retrospect, Øystein would've had the chance to put up a better fight if he wasn't taken by surprise like this, but after all, Varg had a knife on him and this was the surprise element that, if you don't have an equalizer, you've already lost the fight unfortunately.

Varg must've been a madman to drive 5-6 hours in the middle of the night from Bergen to Oslo to kill. I don't think that not having that door open, you would just shrug and be like 'Well, that's it, folks. I'm going home'. No, he would've find a way to get in. It's the adrenaline that brought you there that won't allow you to leave even if you would somehow realize that what you do is gonna cost you a lot of trouble. The impulse is too strong, you can't just walk away simply.

I also wish Øystein never opened that door, but I guess we all wish that.

[melien]

My inner child is healed😭😭😭

[spamtoon]

(Out of nowhere, you are approached by a familiar lightbulb-headed Cog.)

Ah, it's you, cat. Thinking you're oh-so-slick. Muttering and whispering under those raggedy whiskers of yours... Thinking I am unable to hear it all...

Well, you've simply underestimated my fantastic hearing. You probably want to know the reason why I'm here, taking a 'break' from my incredibly important scientific breakthroughs? It's quite simple, really!

(She gets close, and squints her eyes.)

I know what you are.

Farewell, now!

(She then leaves the way she came from.)

(Spam giggles immensely, covering her face... it always seems like she's giggling, isn't she? This lasts... at least thirty seconds. Longer than usual.)

And I know what I am too, Sparky! You broke through something, that's for sure. Really, broke through...

(She looks down, continuing to laugh nervously.)

You know, I find it odd you Havent tried to bulb blast me into the stratosphere by now. I mean knowing how you acted with Frostbite. Is there something peculiar about me that you perhaps can't quite track? Something about me that you... don't know what I am?

I know, I know, I'm talking to nobody again. But you were there when I had a moment today with the one the only Frostbite The Bravecog. You may be remaining. Lurking in the shadows. Knowing about these thoughts that I'm thinking.

(The giggling resumes, lasting far shorter this time.)

Your brother's a piece of fucking barp, by the way

(She braces for impact for a few seconds, wincing while smiling, before comically looking around to realize nobody's there. She sighs.)

Wow, okay maybe toony superhero show logic doesn't apply in this situation. Cool.

WAIT I JUST FUCKING REALIZED WHAT SHE MEANT but like. Dude if she meant that then what's the point I mean the whole ahh sellbot department barping knows unless you're Really low on the ladder. Heheh... maybe she did mean what I thought she meant.

Oh i'm so fucking screwed. What kind of bitch gets filament fever

[bonestrouslingbones]

btw big shoutout to that woodworking class i took in my final semester of high school for allowing me to 1. not constantly sound like i'm talking entirely out of my ass and 2. hide some very niche secrets because of the like 2 full months of paperwork & osha training before i got to actually build anything

[dtaegis]

there's something i've been thinking about since i came home. i'm feeling empty about that guy

[lifesver]

if it's ok to ask what's your build and loadout for leland?

yeah no problem!! i run him pretty tank-y and chase-oriented so i can take hits (especially early game) without worrying too much, and rarely run out of stam.

toughness +18 (38) endurance + 10 (40)

on his skill tree i go left, i think the only random perk i had to keep rolling/respeccing for was choose flight

choose flight at level 3 gives you 3 charges of 'oh no i have no stamina let me just get the entire bar refilled haha i'm fine now' (i think you have to roll this perk randomly iirc)

no sell at level 3 gives you 3 charges of being able to take any hit at 80% less damage, so taking bubba aggro at the start of the game isn't too scary since even a big chainsaw hit barely touches my health

what doesn't kill you at level 3 is sexy because no matter what kind of damage you take in a single hit, if you avoid a second hit for another 15 seconds, you get 100% of the health you lost back.

right to left on the life saver tree, gives you 10 second stun, 60 stamina recharged, and ability cooldown time of 126. i think the concussion one is pretty good too, but i like to be able to have my ability up as much as possible

[tarragonthedragon]

i feel like a lot of online discourse boils down to people asking, over and over again, with increasing panic, "but who is it okay for me to hurt? who is it okay for me to hurt now?!" because "noone" is simply not an acceptable answer

[glass-oranges]

I have this thing where instead of a brain there is a Nigel who dings around in my head like a windows screensaver <3

[luckyladylily]

So a few months ago there was the discourse about would you rather meet a man or a bear in the woods. I didn't want to touch it while the discourse was hot and everyone dug in hard because those are not good conditions for nuance, but I waited until today, June 1st, for a specific reason.

I'm not going to take a position in the bear vs man debate because I don't think it matters. What is really being asked here is how afraid are you of men? Specifically, unexpected men who are, perhaps, strange.

People have a lot of very real fear of men that comes from a lot of very real places. Back when I was first transitioning in 2015 and 2016, I decided to start presenting as a woman in public even though I did not pass in the slightest.

I live in a red state. I knew other trans women who had been attacked by men, raped by men. I knew I was taking a risk by putting myself out there. I was the only visibly trans person in the area of campus I frequented, and people made sure I never forgot that. Most were harmless enough and the worst I got from them was curious stares. Others were more aggressive, even the occasional threat. I had to avoid public bathrooms, of course, and always be aware of my surroundings.

I know how frightening it is to be alone at night while a pair of men are following behind you and not knowing if they are just going in the same direction or if they want to start something - made all the worse for the constant low level threat I had been living under for over a year by just being visibly trans in a place where many are openly hostile to queer people. You have to remember, this was at the height of the first wave of bathroom law discussions, a lot of people were very angry about trans women in particular. My daily life was terrifying at times. I was never the subject of direct violence, but I knew trans women who had been.

I want you to keep all that in mind.

So man or bear is really the question "how afraid of men are you?", and the question that logically follows is "What if there was a strange man at night in a deserted parking lot?" or "What if you were alone in an elevator with a man?" or "What if you met a strange man in the woman's bathroom?"

My state recently passed an anti trans bathroom bill. The rhetoric they used was about protecting women and children from "strange men", aka trans women.

Conservatives hijack fear for their bigoted agenda.

When I first started presenting as a woman the campus apartment complex was designed for young families. The buildings were in a large square with playgrounds in the center, and there were often children playing. I quickly noticed that when I took my daughter out to play, often several children would immediately stop what they were doing and run back inside. It didn't take me long to confirm that the parents were so afraid of "the strange man who wears skirts" that their children were under strict instructions to literally run away as soon as they saw me.

"How afraid are you of a strange man being near your children?"

I mentioned above that I had to avoid public bathrooms. This was not because of men. It was because of women who were so afraid of random men that they might get violent or call someone like the police to be violent for them if I ever accidentally presented myself in a way that could be interpreted as threatening, when my mere presence could be seen as a threat. If I was in the library studying and I realized that it was just me and one other woman I would get up and leave because she might decide that stranger danger was happening.

Your fear is real. Your fear might even come from lived experiences. None of that prevents the fact that your fear can be violent. Women's fear of men is one of the driving forces of transmisogyny because it is so easy to hijack. And it isn't just trans women. Other trans people experience this, and other queer people too. Racial minorities, homeless people, neurodivergent people, disabled people.

When you uncritically engage with questions like man or bear, when you uncritically validate a culture of reactive fear, you are paving the way for conservatives and bigots to push their agenda. And that is why I waited until pride month. You cannot engage and contribute to the culture of reactive fear without contributing to queerphobia of all varieties. The sensationalist culture of reactive fear is a serious queer issue, and everyone just forgot that for a week as they argued over man or bear. I'm not saying that "man" is the right answer. I am saying that uncritically engaging with such obvious click bait trading on reactive fear is a problem. Everyone fucked up.

It is not a moral failing to experience fear, but it is a moral responsibility to keep a handle on that fear and know how it might harm others.

[scatteredcloud]

Going on yet another rant about “merch”

If you did not screen print that shirt yourself, you did not make it.

You made the design on it, which I’m sure would be a nice poster or sticker perhaps? Which of course you didn't print yourself, that sounds hard! An embroidered design? Maintaining a 12 needle embroidery machine capable of producing a design with that many colors for the number of orders being received is a lot of work, that's pretty impressive! Not to mention maintaining proper tension on the frame working with a hundred stretchy t shirts, which idk came from somewhere who knows! Your repeating pattern looks very nice on a skirt that you did not make and was mass produced by some Vietnamese person getting paid pennies so that ~50 gay people on the internet could pay for international shipping for a design you “made”. Wow that mug is awesome didn’t know you got into sublimation printing! And have a cylindrical heat press to be able to do not just mugs, but tumblers too! Woah your sublimation set up can do bed sheets (any size)? And shower curtains? And three different shapes of throw pillow stuffed with poly fill, which will never decompose and isn't comfortable to begin with?

Your poorly digitized vector art looks lovely as an enamel pin now that someone else (Who? More like who cares!) cleaned it up for you and then created moulds for and maybe even hand injected the enamel into only for you to sell maybe seven or eight of them. Aw damn your design got ripped off? Who could have guessed that with the distribution power of an entire manufacturing plafffnt that has hundreds, if not thousands of moulds sitting around that they might have used your mould to make themselves a profit for a change! Those money grubbing Chinese bastards! After all, you were there every step of the way, casting the negative of the mould, running the injection of liquid metal into that mould, mixing each color of enamel, and precisely filling each segment of the design, which you refused to simplify! You just can't compromise with art.

Ohhh I see they’re made to order so its more sustainable. So this factory (Guatemala? India? The Philippines? Pakistan? Could you point to it on a map? They just don't teach you this stuff in school!) Anyways this factory in some poor country has to keep your design on file, oh and for your enamel pins they have to keep the mould too! Ahh right but it’s sustainable, because it's a limited run. You’re the 100th person this week to place an order, and they're only printing 50 of your design, you should complain to the manufacturer about how slow your orders are being filled.

I love supporting small businesses - it’s just you after all! With all the hard work you’ve put into fiddling around in procreate who has time to figure out material acquisition, and production runs, and printer calibration, and inventory management, and machine maintenance, and payment processing, and international shipping, and packaging, and