#is this any good? I don't know...

[fishyvamp]

18+ NSFW MDNI mind the tags

You whimpered as the S.C.R.E.A.M unit pinned you down. It's gears whirling and whining as it ground into you. It was strange in how it was like it was seeking gratification in a sexual way. Rubbing where it's dick would be against the curve of your ass. You clenched your fist, teeth gritted heavily, the scent of fresh oil you had just applied to it's joints in the air of the workshop. This must've been some sick joke someone was playing on you. Maybe some kind of hazing ritual to welcome the new technician.

"You got a boyfriend?" The bot seemed to tease. It's icy mechanical hand pressing against your throat pulling you flush against it's cold frame. The coveralls you wore doing very little to protect you. You could feel a scream building in your throat as none of this made sense. It had walked in of it's own free will, or at least the equivalent of free will for a android, requesting maintenance and when you had finished diagnosis everything was clear; No anomalies, not even signs of code tampering, yet when the bot was turned back on it began behaving unnaturally. All you knew for sure is If you made it out of this alive you will be looking through its code piece by piece to find out who tampered with your unit. Surely there would be a digital signature in there. Something to indicate who last touched the code.

"Stop!" You screamed out feeling it's other hand beginning to palm the front of your pants, "initiate command slash S!" The kill phrase coming out desperate the bolder it got practically crushing you against the table; it's hips picking up speed. Before stuttering to a stop, grip loosening just enough for you to slide out; breathing heavily you clutched your chest looking up at the machine that had you caged just moment ago. The fact that it didn't halt right away felt a bit unnerving but the nightmare was over. Clawing at the rough sandpaper like carpet you moved into the light of your dimly lit office. It felt like an eternity as you begged yourself to calm down long enough to plug in the diagnostic computer.

Your eyes shut tightly, you count backwards from ten, listening to the clicks and beeps as it dug whatever info it could, name after name appearing on the screen before you. The unit behaved too purposely to be a true malfunction. Your eyes darting across the screen, the only name catching your eye was that of Danny Johnson. You had to think on why that name sounded familiar despite no one currently working in your shop with that name. Who was Danny? Maybe it was a placeholder name?

It wouldn't be till later that you'd realize Danny was the name of the technician who was killed by a S.C.R.E.A.M unit a year earlier, that in of itself would explain the name, thinking maybe someone in your shop got ahold of his old login information to prank you... It wasn't unusual for the company to not care about removing the permissions of the dead. At least that was until discovering that Danny was the only deceased employee to have their profile completely removed from the system. Even his past work history and general employee file was completely null, as if he never existed. Not even old logs were accessible.

You know he was real the older employees talked about how sweet he was, how he could charm the pants off just about anyone. Well loved and respected, but he didn't exist according to the system. So how the hell did someone use Danny Johnson's information to modify code? Danny doesn't have authorization. Danny shouldn't be able to modify code. Danny technically doesn't exist. So why does it say "Danny wants you"?

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[overlymetaromantic]

Dungeon Meshi, or as I like to call it, Marcille's-increasingly-difficult-to-ignore-revelations-that-her-endless-devotion-to-Falin-may-in-fact-be-more-rooted-in-lesbianism-than-she-originally-thought

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!

[the-jedi-ninja]

Inspired by this post

[royalarchivist]

Connor: [Reading chat] "Tumblr loves you, by the way." That's great to hear. Shoutout to the girls.

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Fic Idea where Fiddleford helps Stan rebuild the portal, but Stan finds out that Fiddleford has a wife and he's like

"You have a WIFE?? That DIDN'T marry you to steal your car and money???? What are you DOING here???"

"Yeah, well.... She's better off thinking I'm dead somewhere....."

"A WIFE. That LOVES you. Get outta here and go explain yourself, Idiot!!"

"She and our son shouldn't have to deal with--"

"YOUR SON???!!?!!??"

Anyways, so Stan helps Fiddleford reach out and explain himself to his wife, but expresses that he wants to keep being in Gravity Falls, so his wife and kid go to live with them in The Shack instead.

Blah blah blah, bonding happens, Stan bags Fiddleford AND his wife and becomes a step dad, God bless 🙏

[littlespoonevan]

okay i'm clearly on a journey through fandom memory lane but it really is wild to me that a random norwegian teen drama cracked the code on how to perfectly market and promote a show in the age of social media and NO ONE ELSE (besides the countries trying to create their own version of the same show ig) has emulated it?????????? like?????????? legitimate social media profiles for your characters????????? with posts and instagram stories from them that fit within the plot as well as offering a fun little extra insight into the characters/friendships/relationships?????? groundbreaking. i had instagram notifications turned on for FICITONAL CHARACTERS. one of your characters wants to be a director??? here's his real youtube channel with a video he made for his boyfriend's birthday full of never before seen clips that don't exist on the show?!?!?!?!?! unbelievable. you want your show to be immersive??? you want the audience to feel like they're living within the pov of your main character?? drop a clip/sneak peek in real time as it's supposed to happen in the episode so your audience is thinking about it 24/7. genius!!!!!! like can you imagine if circa 2018 everything didn't move to full season dumps and instead shows that aired on a weekly basis and incorporated even one of these things became the norm??????? we were robbed of what could've been

[theabigailthorn]

British producers be like: THEM: "We love this! Let us put our heads together and get back to you early next week!" SIX MONTHS LATER UNPAID INTERN FOR THAT COMPANY: "Everyone you spoke to has been sacked, we hate you fuck off."

American producers be like:

THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON YOU'VE EVER MET: Hey kiddo do you wanna meet The Rock? Do you wanna meet Margot Robbie? Do you want to fuck my wife? I can't give you a job but gosh darn it you've got moxxy, let me put you in touch with Doug Bigcheese, the biggest producer in Hollywood! DOUG BIGCHEESE, EMAILING YOU BACK WITHIN 20 MINUTES: Hey kiddo, that guy said you're awesome! Lemme ask round town and in the meantime you can live in my house borrow my car and by the way have you met my wife?!

[kazz-brekker]

tolkien's tendency to leave women off of family trees is annoying to me not just because it's an overall trend in fantasy novels that i wish wasn't a thing (to quote arya stark, the woman is important too!) but also because i desperately need to know who celebrimbor's mom was and which elf lady made the bold yet fantastically bad decision to marry into the house of feanor.

[buttercupshands]

can you even call it a warm up if I'm going to bed without drawing anything big

and a sketch I made while sitting in the park today

[be-queer-do-arson]

We NEED to talk more about Neil's escape from Columbia because I don't think anyone's fully appreciating just how unhinged it really was. Neil really hiked six miles along the freeway in the South Carolina summer heat, face bruised from being knocked out cold dressed like a homeless person carrying a big ass duffle bag and started strolling up to truck drivers like, "Hello there! I'm just a regular sociology student interviewing long haul truck drivers to learn about their culture! Would you allow me to interview you while you drive to your next stop?" And then he did in fact interview a truck driver AND take full notes like he was really doing a presentation on it. That is FERAL

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

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

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[metatronhateblog]

Can't help but sometimes sit here and think about the rainbow above Aziraphale in the Job episode. What rainbow you might ask? This rainbow silly!

What's that you say? You don't see anything? Computer, enhance.

Still not seeing it? Let me adjust the contrast and saturation here a minute...

There it is. That little rainbow above our angel.

I spend an unnecessary amount of time thinking about him and his rainbow

[tritoch]

deleted cutscene between shadowbringers 5.3 and 5.4 where krile's like huh. i finally figured it out, g'raha. i was a little annoyed to be left out, but clearly the exarch didn't summon me to the first because i would've blown up his spot immediately. that's why i was one of the scions left behind.

and g'raha has to be like oh no that whole thing was an accide--what do you mean you're a scion. sorry. krile, my good friend and colleague, what do you mean you've been gallivanting around eorzea with my hero and idol the warrior of light.

leaving krile in turn to be like. yeah i was involved in the warriors of darkness stuff and the war in ala mhigo. wait. do you mean you don't know? oh my god. oooooh my god am i not in edmont's fucking book?? am i not a big enough deal to be in the histories?? i'm not in the legends??? have i been EXCLUDED from the HISTORICAL NARRATIVE? zenos did LIVE HUMAN LALAFELL EXPERIMENTATION ON ME. am i a FOOTNOTE?

g'raha patting her on the back. cheer up, queen. those are from a doomed timeline. you probably. you probably do some really cool stuff in this timeline. anyways can you tell me some stories about the warrior of li--