#it scared the shit out of them when i just

[bi-writes]

ok wait pause i have a question. first date, but like, real, you are my girlfriend date ? or like how'd they define their relationship (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

he's...fun.

it's just sex. mind-blowing, back-numbing, pussy-destroying sex. this man is pushing 40, and you swear you've never felt so out of breath. you convince yourself it's the military thing--he's used to pushing himself, exerting energy, testing the limits of his stamina. but holy shit, you'd think after round four, this man would take a quick nap or something, but no.

he's still balls-deep, hitting it from the back since you can't even keep yourself upright any longer. your skirt lays haphazardly thrown onto the floor, and oh--there's your panties, too, ripped to lacy shreds.

holy shit, this man is more than ten years older than you, and you've never been so out of your fucking mind--

"tha' the spot, love?" his voice is so condescending. he knows he's got you brainless. there's drool staining your lips, and you paw at the sheets for a better grip, but it's useless.

"y-yes, captain."

the low groan that leaves him makes you smile. he might have the upper hand, but if you really wanted to, you could make him come right now, too fast, too much.

you're in bliss. everything is bliss. you're still recovering from what must be the fifth or sixth orgasm--not as good as the second or third one, but still enough to make you cry fat, pleasured tears. you're shaking, in a good way, sinking to your stomach on the bed and pressing your face into his pillow.

"hmm..." your voice is soft and gooey, and when you take a deep breath, you get a long whiff of him. he smells good. clean. earthy. you tasted cigar smoke in his mouth earlier, and you can smell it here, too. just as you relax, you feel the weight of him on your back, and then his lips. he's kissing along your shoulder to your neck and then up your jaw. you tilt your head to give him room, your eyes shutting as his beard scruffs against your skin and his mouth laps at your chin. "i gotta go, john."

you giggle when he lays his entire body on top of yours, trapping you there. you reach up and grip the back of his neck, whining as he flattens his tongue against your jaw and swirls it there.

"john...i gotta go."

"why?"

"mmm..." you thumb at the hair along his scalp, shaking your head. "don't do this, john."

"not doing anythin'."

"we don't sleep over, john."

"what, is tha' some kind of rule? sounds mad."

you turn over a little, looking up at him. you cup his beard in both hands, giving him a chaste kiss.

"don't ruin it, john," you say softly. "this is supposed to be fun."

he tilts his head to the side. he looks so funny without a hat. you've seen him in a beanie, a boonie hat, a cap, you love them all on him. he looks nice like this, too, though--ass naked with his dog tags dangling against his sweaty pecs.

john's eyes twitch a little at your indifference. he settles on his side, leaning over you, and just as you move to get up, he reaches and grips at your face with a big paw of a hand. you clutch at his forearm, big and solid, and your lips pucker as he pulls you closer to him.

"y'r a bad liar, love," he mutters, shaking his head. "fear doesn't suit you."

"i'm not fucking scared."

"who was it?"

you glare up at him, struggling a bit under him. it's a stupid thing to think that you could get away from him. john is not moveable. he's a big fucking tree trunk of a man, with roots that burrow, and you are truly naïve if you think he'll let you up without an answer.

"shut the fuck up, john," you spit at him, but all he does is raise a brow. he's immune to your bite. he's not phased by your sour attempt at insulting him. in fact, it's what drew him to your bed in the first place--certified brat-tamer, captain john price. "you think you're so fucking smart. think you know everything, just because you've got a few years on me, well let me tell you, john--not everything is a fucking lesson learned. you're a military muppet with a decent cock, and that's all you'll ever be to me."

"tha' right?"

"you'll never put me first. you've got one woman, and that's the job, and that's fucking fine, john, but don't make this something it's not. you're lonely, and old, and your failed relationships don't make you wiser, they make you delusional for thinking that doing this again could ever--"

your breath falters when he kisses you. he squeezes your jaw a little harder, forcing your mouth to open, and you moan, squeezing your thighs together when he licks into your mouth and holds you there for him to play with.

"i do have other obligations. my men, the job..." he brushes the hair out of your eyes, and he presses his forehead to yours when he sees the tremble of your bottom lip and the wet look in your eyes. "but i don't do casual, sweetheart. it's all or nothing f'me."

your hand grips his wrist, squeezing tight, and you blink up at him. he's so close. he's right here. blue eyes, greying beard, a sad expression. he's not afraid of dying alone, but he is afraid of wasting time.

"please don't do this to me, john." your voice cracks, and he shrugs. he's sorry, but he's not sorry enough. not enough to let you go--and you're not strong enough to tell him no. it has to be him, but it won't be.

"it's alright," john whispers, but he knows it won't be. he's known you not but a few weeks, but he's made up his mind. he doesn't understand casual. even from the moment he saw you in that bar, it wasn't fleeting, it was definitive. it would be his. you would be his.

even if you were actually someone else's. even if you were bound to someone else. even if you weren't alone, it was already decided.

john's teeth are stuck here, right here, in the hollow of your throat. his fingers are twisted between the chords of your heart and in the spaces between your ribs. if he lets go, he'll break you apart.

so he's never going to let go.

[atlas-of-andromeda]

*sucks in deep breathe through teeth* Alright I guess I'm doing this.

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

No.

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

Been a while. Can't really say. If we're only counting times I've meant it then I'm not sure I've ever.

03: Do you regret anything?

I've made mistakes, but none of them detrimental enough for me to regret them.

04: Are you insecure?

Yes.

05: What is your relationship status?

Single. Hopefully it will remain like that

06: How do you want to die?

Explosion. I don't know specifics I just want to be able to tell people in the afterlife 'I went off with a bang!'

07: What did you last eat?

Chocolate bar.

08: Played any sports?

I'm presuming that we're ignoring sports I've been forced to play in school. But other than that... is chess a sport?

09: Do you bite your nails?

Yeah. Pretty frequently too.

10: When was your last physical fight?

When I was like eight. Some six year old started randomly throwing very weak punches at me, so I threw a few back.

11: Do you like someone?

No. Hopefully I never will.

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

Yeah. Once, and I got close to it a couple other times.

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

I hate most people. Humans suck.

14: Do you miss someone?

My friend who's too busy with school to talk.

15: Have any pets?

Unfortunately not.

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

Tired.

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

No!?

18: Are you scared of spiders?

A bit. Less so of looking at spiders, and more so just knowing there's a spider in my presence.

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

No. I don't think I would.

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

I haven't done that before, and I'd rather not.

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

Try and finish TMA.

22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

FUCK NO.

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

Sounds painful. No.

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?

Science, probably.

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

No.

26: What are you craving right now?

In terms of food? And meat, nothing specific. Non-food? Physical affection.

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

Potentially? I've rejected enough guys to have probably broken at least one of their hearts.

28: Have you ever been cheated on?

Never been in a relationship.

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

Never been in a relationship.

30: What’s irritating you right now?

So many of these questions involving something romantic or sexual. I'm aroace and it's infuriating.

31: Does somebody love you?

Couldn't tell you.

32: What is your favourite color?

Red.

33: Do you have trust issues?

A bit.

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

I think gnomes were involved?

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

Can't remember.

36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

No.

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

Forgetting is easier. Mainly because my memory is shit and I hold grudges.

38: Is this year the best year of your life?

Not by a long shot.

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

FOR FUCK'S SAKE. REFER TO QUESTION 30.

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

No?

51: Favourite food?

Bacon.

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

No.

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

Scroll Tumblr.

54: Is cheating ever okay?

Cheating as in infidelity? If the relationship in question is unhealthy and non-consensual, yes. Otherwise, no. Cheating as in violating academic integrity? Yeah it's fine.

55: Are you mean?

A bit?

56: How many people have you fist fought?

One.

57: Do you believe in true love?

No. Love is dead.

58: Favourite weather?

Fog. Cold fog.

59: Do you like the snow?

Yes.

60: Do you wanna get married?

NO WAY IN HELL.

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

No?

62: What makes you happy?

My bed.

63: Would you change your name?

I have plans to! Transgenderism, baby!

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

30.

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

I'm pretty sure he does, I just ignore it.

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

No.

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

My father.

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

I don't have those.

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

No. Love is dead.

70: Is there anyone you would die for?

No.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[pyromantic-mishap]

okay i can't remember if this is canon or fanon or just me, but.

The Bat-fam all kind of resemble each other, right? Like especially Bruce and Dick and Jason, as adults they all look pretty similar. Jason and Bruce especially (my heart, omg) resemble each other bc they have similar builds and so on

Now, Bruce has filled in as Nightwing in the comics, because Dick was in trouble and Blüdhaven needed Nightwing, and Dick's been Batman before, so he took that upon himself (instead of asking literally anyone better suited to it, like Tim for example). Here's where the fun begins.

Imagine for me, if you will, the medical wing of the Batcave. Jason Todd lies on one of the beds, bleeding and broken and beaten, stoically growling as Alfred sews up his wounds, desperate to return to Crime Alley, because some dangerous shit is going down and by some circumstance only Red Hood can intervene in a way that will permanently end the threat. Batman isn't trusted like he is. Nightwing doesn't elicit the same grudging respect he does. The Red Hood needs to be there, and Jason can't do it. He tries to stand and his legs give way before he's halfway up. He's panicking because this enemy is threatening his kids, and he doesn't know what to do if he can't be there, when Bruce gives him a *look*.

Tim and Alfred both catch the look, and Tim visibly pales. Jason immediately starts to reject the idea, and Tim is about to lose his shit, when Damian pipes up from across the room, agreeing that it is the only way. Bruce and Jason share a long, deep stare, and some unspoken communication passes between them that even Alfred isn't able to read. Jason says, "Okay."

Bruce hugs his son and turns to leave, and immediately Tim is up after him questioning and shouting and arguing, the way he used to when he first became Robin. He's scared, both for Bruce and for the rest of his family. Everyone knows what being the Red Hood did, has done, is still doing to Jason - is it at all a good idea for Bruce to inflict that on himself? Damian almost follows, but a soft "ahem" from Alfred tells him to leave his father and brother to it.

As he suits up, in a costume so unlike his own and yet fits him so easily, Bruce relents on his silence. He looks earnestly into Tim's red, tear-rimmed eyes, and tells him that he knows. He understands. He wouldn't be able to do this if it weren't for Tim, and if there were another choice he'd take it, to spare his soul and his sons'. But this is how it has to be.

In one of the greatest displays of willpower Bruce has ever shown, he straps on Jason's gun belt and pulls on his son's helmet. From his hospital bed, Jason Todd watches as the Red Hood races out into the night, leaving a trembling Tim Drake standing alone- not alone, as Damian and Cass sidle up to him, wrapping their arms around him, telling him Bruce will be fine, everything will be fine, he doesn't need to be afraid any more.

Barbara gets the shock of her life when she hears Bruce's voice coming in over Red Hood's comm channel.

[impish-baby]

More dad survivor x zombie reader + an old friend :) (tw: dead animal, guns, emetophobia, threats of harm)

"Aw, sugar.." The dead bird is the farthest thing from appetizing but you look so darn happy offering it to him, how's he supposed to say no?

"You're the sweetest, daddy will eat it later, ok?" That at least seems to be satisfactory enough for now, as you drop the poor thing down onto the park table.

The playground has long been abandoned, left in disarray since the apocalypse hit, that doesnt stop Hank from finding it absolutely adorable when you try to climb up a slide. Nearly gives him a heart attack though.

"Baby, come on, you're gonna hurt yourself." He wonders if you remember being little and playing here, your memory isn't the best when it comes to some things but you sure seem to recall what it takes to give him gray hairs. "I know you think it's fun, but your old man really couldn't handle it if you got scratched up while you're messing around."

You get hurt so easily now a days, he's basically toddler proofed the house all over again and yet you still find a way to bang yourself up when he's not around, that's why he's taken to tying you up when he can't keep an eye on you.

When you do finally decide to slide back down, Hank immediately sweeps you up into his arms with a soft chuckle. "Alright, alright, I think you've had enough outside time for today, we should be headin' home."

It would've been a good day, a great one even, if he didn't catch the glittering of a silver barrel from the corner of his eye.

"Shit-" Hank has never been more greatful that he was holding you, because you lunge automatically for the stranger and likewise closer to the gun. "No, sweetheart, shhh..shh..calm down.." God, he'd love it if you listened, it's hard to pull out his own pistol while trying to wrangle you into staying put.

Other survivors aren't very common in town, most people left after the first few months.

"You gonna let that thing go so I can shoot it?" He recognizes that voice, and it makes Hank's heart sink into a pit in his stomach. "I ain't.. Hank?" A familiar face is rare, a friendly familiar face is nearly unheard of.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot, just step back for a minute, alright?" When Hank glances over, he wasn't expecting Bo to be emptying his stomach onto the cement.

"I- Fuck-" The man retches again, dryheaving. "You.. God, the kid.." An honorary uncle, Bo knew you since the day you where born, he didn't see the day that was meant to be your last.

"I know," You stopped struggling once you heard his voice, eyes wide as you simply whine to be let down. "You're gonna have to wait, be patient, hun." That never was your strong suit. "The grown ups need to talk."

"Hank.. man, you gotta let them go.." There's tears in Bo's eyes as he takes a cautious step forward. "They're dead. There aren't any ifs or buts, that's a corpse. You can't-"

"That is my child," He's been a sinner for a long time, if it comes down to it, shooting his brother will be one of his worst. "My baby, what kind of father am I to hurt them?"

"A merciful one!" There are days you wake up confused and scared, you cry for hours or at least your body tries to. "They aren't a person anymore, Hank, they aren't themselves. You're fucking lucky they haven't bitten you yet!"

"I'd welcome it if they did." He's thought about it, that first night when you went cold in his arms and many more after that. "You pull that trigger and that's it, a life without my kid isn't worth living."

"Dammit," Hank almost collapses in relief as the gun is holstered, putting his away as well. "You're still an idiot, huh? Figures.."

Bo approaches slowly, never taking his eyes off your still form. All you do is smile and try to reach out for a hug, but he cringes away with a look of disgust.

Hank's heart breaks as you tuck your teary face against his neck. He doesn't know how to explain in a way you'd still understand, all he can is press a kiss to your forehead and shush your sniffles.

[wordswithkittywitch]

#my sister was the right age for them when they were a fad#and was terrified in an angry way by them#she just kind of hated furbies#still does probably via @thebestworstidea

Correction: I was not the right age for furbies. I was in middle school. I was too old for furbies, and they still scared the living shit out of me. Granted, with what AI has done recently my fear of machine learning has changed considerably since middle school, now I'm afraid it will steal my information, my work, and spit it out for free so I don't have a job while simultaneously burning down the planet. In middle school, I was afraid of the singularity and I thought furbies were where it would surface.

This is worse, in many ways.

Furbies are still creepy.

It's so fucking funny how many people who owned Furbies as children ended up being traumatized by them in some way

[rcmclachlan]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @beanarie!

Here's a snippet of something I started writing yesterday. It hit me out of nowhere, and once I came out of the fugue state, I discovered I'd written 4,000 words.

The premise: Buck is in the middle of making room for his stuff in Tommy's closet when he finds an old phone hidden in a shoebox. Unexpectedly, it starts ringing.

+

"Sorry, but I don't negotiate with terrorists," Tommy says, then chucks the hornworm into the bucket by his feet. It lands inside with a muted thunk. There must be a bunch more of the little bastards in there.

"USA! USA!" Buck chants, pumping a fist into the air as he gets closer.

Cracking up, Tommy dashes the back of his gloved hand across his forehead. All it does is smear dirt and make him look rugged and disgustingly sexy. Buck wants to lick every drop of sweat from his body. 

"Done already? Please tell me I got to keep at least three hangers."

"Is there a henley shortage coming that the rest of us aren't ready for? Jesus." Buck holds up the Nike box and says. "I, uh, found this. Or it found me? It started ringing out of nowhere and scared the living shit out of me."

The moment Tommy claps eyes on it, something fascinating happens. Every muscle in his body visibly tenses, like a wave that starts at his jaw and washes its way down, leaving quiet devastation in its wake. In a single almost fluid motion, he straightens up from his lean and folds his hands at the small of his back. Shoulders back, chin up, feet apart. Parade rest. 

Buck's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Tommy?"

"It started ringing." It's not a question or even an accusation. Tommy says it like a simple statement of fact, his voice is flat as a board, the edges sharp enough to draw blood. "It just... started ringing."

"I, uh, yeah?" Buck holds out the box to him, jostling the phone inside, but Tommy doesn't move to take it. 

In fact, Tommy does nothing. Tommy says nothing. Buck has to squint to confirm that he's even breathing. 

After the most terrifyingly silent thirty seconds of Buck's life, Tommy shifts his gaze from Buck to, oddly enough, the sky.

"Did you answer it?"

"No, of course not!" Just because they're on rock solid ground now doesn't mean there aren't still fault lines beneath the surface. He at least thought he knew most of them. "I-I wouldn't, I swear. I just let it ring."

Tommy's nostrils flare. If his lips were any thinner, they'd probably disappear. 

"Um, I'm sorry. I know you said I could have free rein, but I didn't mean..." He has no idea how to end that sentence. He didn't mean to do what? Dig up something that Tommy obviously tried to bury? Make room for himself in Tommy's closet? Make room for himself in Tommy's life in the first place? 

A moment passes, and then the statue that was once his boyfriend shivers back to life. Tommy closes his eyes, exhales, and steps forward to take the box from Buck's trembling hands, tucking it under his arm. He wraps the other around Buck's waist and draws him close for a kiss. Buck pushes into it gratefully.

"Sorry," Tommy says against his mouth, then pecks it again before drawing back. "Sorry, I'm being an asshole. Get that look off your face, you did nothing wrong, okay? I was just... surprised to see it. I forgot it was even in there."

"What is it?" Buck mentally slaps himself. "I mean, I know it's a phone, but who was on the other end of it?"

Tommy doesn't answer right away. Instead he looks up at the sky again for a long moment, a strange smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. When he looks back at Buck, his pupils have shrunken to pinpricks. "Think of it like, uh, an old war injury acting up. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"Is it something for you to worry about?"

No pressure tags: @dadvans, @liminalmemories21, @screamlet, @setmeatopthepyre, and @leashybebes

[suzukiblu]

Day four of February’s second weekly WIP behind the cut; “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You ran really fast, like I’ve never seen anybody not a Flash run that fast, like I think you might’ve actually been faster than Jai and Irey and like my dad just flies when he’s moving that fast!” Jon rambles, kicking his feet against the bottom of his seat and seeming excited again, and Kon doesn’t really have the heart to interrupt him. The kid doesn’t seem as freaked-out or scared as he did before, so if spending the drive raving about watching a giant croco-dude get his shit rocked is enough to distract him from worrying about what’s going on, Kon’s not gonna cut him off. 

Just it’s–weird, kinda. The version of Jon he’s used to is a much quieter, more reserved guy, and he’s never known the dude well enough to figure out if he’s holding back or masking his reactions or if he’s actually just like that. The whole “volcano-trauma” thing would imply the former, but Clark doesn’t even seem to think Jon’s all that fucked-up from it, so, like . . . maybe he was quiet like that as a kid too? 

Or maybe, like, Clark is once again totally failing to see somebody else in an “S” being, like . . . fucked-up and needing help themselves for once. 

Not that Kon would know anything about that, or anything. 

Like, definitely Batman’s version of you don’t get to fuck up in this line of work is a lot harsher-looking, and definitely it’s not soft by any fucking stretch of the imagination, but it sure as fuck was a day when Kon’d first had the thought that Batman expects the other Bats to live up to standards that he’s spent weeks and months and years personally teaching them, and Clark kinda just . . . expects other Supers to be up to Superman-standards, but not in a way where he really ever, like . . . taught them those standards. Like–they were just supposed to fucking know, apparently? Like that’s a thing they all just came pre-installed with no matter how they got made or where they grew up? 

Also, Clark literally never taught him a fucking thing about his powers, and not really Kara either as far as he knows, and sure as shit didn’t give Kenan or even Mae and Linda back in the day all that many tips or whatever, and it’s like . . . at least Batman fucking tells people what he expects. Like, mostly, anyway. Batman has fucking dossiers of what he expects.

Maybe Jon got that, though. Got–told shit. Like, found out what the fucking standards actually were before they were immediately relevant or it was already too late or they were getting a disappointed lecture over shit they hadn’t known even mattered, much less mattered enough to be a fucking problem. 

Or like, how literally any of the goddamn Kryptonian powers worked. 

There’s a reason that Kon runs like a speedster; a reason that a very significant chunk of the fighting techniques and tactics that he knows are Greek or Bat in origin, if they’re not either Cadmus-uploads or tips he got from Guardian when they were working together back in the day. 

Or, like, that he got from Knockout, but “yeah I think that throw came from Granny Goodness” is, like, not a conversation he’s ever wanted to have with anyone. 

There’s also a reason that most of the shit he says that people assume he got from Superman he got from Ma and Pa in the, like . . . two lousy years he spent getting in their way at the farm, not Clark. Mostly he doesn’t repeat the “lessons” he heard from Clark, because he doesn’t like remembering how shitty he felt hearing them and really doesn’t wanna make anyone else feel that shitty either. 

It’s whatever, anyway. The League doesn’t really cross the streams or whatever, but the Titans have learned a little from each other, and Young Justice has learned a little more from each other. That’s all. Comes from, like, actually growing up together or whatever, he’s always figured. The Leaguers didn’t team up ‘til they were all real stuck in their ways, and they built the League around those ways, pretty much. And like, whatever, they’re the greatest heroes on the planet. 

But also if somebody told him he had to pick a speedster for a stealth mission, he’d definitely pick Bart or Wally over Barry Allen. 

Kon is really letting his brain run off on a fucking tangent here, but in his defense, it kind of feels like self-defense right now. It's think too much about shit he can't change and never could've or it's think about a version of Jon grinning up at him like he's the coolest thing he's ever seen, like he's–like he–

The kid thinks he's his fucking dad, Kon reminds himself harshly. He doesn't know who the fuck he is. Hell, he apparently doesn't even have a version of him in his reality. So like–obviously he thinks it's cool to see his “dad” fist-fight a crocodile dude in the middle of a fucking interdimensional crisis. Like–obviously, yeah. Very much so obviously. 

He's not seeing . . . anyone else when he sees him. 

Anything else. 

Like–the kid's just seeing his dad. Not his . . . anything else. 

Well, his own Jon doesn't see him as anything else either, so that's pretty SOP either way.

[kimmi-never-dies]

Yandere!Hyun-Ju x fem!reader head canons

(A/N): I know the poll is still up and is likely gonna change when I'm in the process of finishing this up but I had time now and this prompt was in the lead so I just decided this is what I'm writing.

TW: yandere, obsessive behavior, mentions of but never graphic violence, mentions of stalking and implied kidnapping, drugging.

Her behavior:

Again, she’s definitely a hopeless romantic, Hyun-Ju seems like the type to crave intimacy, affection, and all the other cheesy romance things, but never knows how to ask for it.

And adding that, along with the fact that society practically turned its back on her the second she wanted to openly be the woman she was on the inside, kinda turned her into an obsessive, clingy person.

She doesn’t mean to be this way, she’s just scared of being abandoned again.

Hyun-Ju never thought she’d end up becoming so infatuated with someone, but when you entered her life, everything changed.

You were so different from everyone else, you accepted her, you were so understanding and gentle…

She needed you more than life itself…you were a lifeline for her.

I kinda see Hyun-Ju being two sub-types of yandere, delusional and dependent.

She’d definitely disguise most of her delusions as jokes, for example:

“What do you mean you’re going on a date? But you’re my wife! You can’t be unfaithful!”

But her dependency is very clear, but dependency can be easily explained by abandonment issues, so you’d never guess it was really because she was practically addicted to you.

But she really can’t help it! After the games…after all the people she’d lost…she needed to keep you safe, she needed you to stay.

Dealing with rivals:

Definitely a jealous type, literally wants to scream, cry, and physically rip you away from anyone who’s not her.

Hyun-Ju doesn’t wanna share your attention, you should only focus on her!

HYUN-JU WAS A SARGENT IN THE SPECIAL FORCES

She is SCARY.

If she did happen to somehow gain a romantic rival she’d first stalk them online until she’s figured out everything about them.

She’s gotten a lot of people cut off from your life by digging up old tweets…

But if that doesn’t work, she isn’t above getting her hands dirty…

I don’t think Hyun-Ju could actually bring herself to just straight up murder someone, I know she went crazy on those guards but ACTUAL murder I don’t think so.

But she’s definitely not afraid to follow someone home and beat the ever-loving shit out of them as a warning.

Confessing to her darling:

There’s two ways this could go, and it really depends on you: Tonight was *finally* the night, Hyun-Ju was gonna tell (Y/n) how she felt about her! Everything was prepped and ready, she decorated her apartment with fairy lights, lit a couple of (Y/n)’s favorite scented candles, and made dinner. Hyun-Ju was now just getting dressed and awaiting her sweet-girls arrival.

She was dressed up in a beautiful forest-green dress with a gold necklace with an (your first initial) shaped pendent, which she got a while ago, playing it off as “there were no H’s and it made me think of you.” Her makeup was also simple, her signature brown winged liner, some mascara, and a bit of red tinted-gloss

The silence of Hyun-Ju’s apartment was suddenly interrupted by a knocking at the door.

‘She’s here!’ Hyun-Ju thought to herself excitedly as she rushed to open the door.

She could’ve fallen to her knee and proposed right then and there…

(Y/n) was stunning…her dress/suit hugging her body in all the right ways, and her hair was done perfectly, just like always…

-a few hours later-

After a while of eating dinner and watching some stupid comedy movie, Hyun-Ju finally worked up her courage and turned to face (Y/n). Her hands were shaking as she paused the tv, looking into her (e/c) eyes with nothing but love and a small twinge go something…darker…

“Sweet girl…I know we’ve been good friends for such a long time but…over these past few years I’ve wanted something more, I love you, and I wanna be your wife one day…so with that being said, please…will you be my girlfriend…?”

You sat shocked for a few minutes before responding to her, you couldn’t help but notice the desperate yet hopeful look on her face.

“Oh Hyun-Ju…”

Yes

"I'd love to..."

did she hear that right?

yes??

she would grin from ear to ear, pull you close as gently as she could, and kiss you.

this first kiss and every kiss after that would be full of love, passion, and happiness, masking the obsessive and violent feelings that got here to this moment, here with you...

And she was never letting you go...

No

"I'm sorry...I don't feel the same...but I'd love to still be your friend."

friend?

FRIEND??

all of this, following you everywhere, taking all those pictures of you, fighting off rivals left and right, only for you to wanna be FRIENDS!?

Hyun-Ju was NOT accepting this, but luckily she already had a backup plan.

struggling didn't help much when she lunged at you, pinning you to the ground effortlessly as she pulled something out of her dress pocket.

and once you felt that prick in your neck, and the sedative hit, you didn't struggle at all.

don't be scared sweet girl, she won't hurt you.

she'll make sure no one can hurt you...or even find you again...

[emptymanuscript]

I admit I'm on the fence about AI in general... well, on the I have never used it and am not sure if I ever should but I've got the deep fear of missing out side.

But in the context of learning, it strikes me as falling in the same landscape as a calculator or Excel. I use a calculator or (actually more commonly) Excel to do any math because I'm not particularly good at math and never really have been.

BUT

When I was growing up, you did NOT get to use a calculator until you knew how to calculate. This was not a thing to make us suffer or just make life more difficult.

I also had stupid tests where I had to solve 100 math problems in 3 minutes, and I'm not about to argue that was good for me, helped me, or should be inflicted on subsequent generations.

I had to learn how to calculate BECAUSE of the above. If YOU don't know how to calculate, then it is impossible to tell if the calculator gave you the correct answer or not.

Back when I used to post to r/excel, I used to get flack for not showing the "EFFICIENT" way to solve problems but instead would show things step by step. But this is the same thing. If you do things in a big complicated group, you either get the right answer or the wrong answer. If you do things step by step you can CHECK your answer step by step and see if they make sense.

Do I need to know how to do 87^2 in my head in 30 seconds or less? No. I really don't. But I do need to know what is going on and why it is happening.

87^2 = 7,569 is great for a calculator to do. The calculator absolutely can do it faster than most people can. But if I just plug in 87^2 and get 689, how do I verify it? How do I check? Can I even realize, hmmm, that doesn't look quite right. Are my functions all right?

Knowing what is going on is the insurance for that. I can probably catch that, oh, I was trying to use a clever trick and forgot some steps.

The answer isn't all that is important.

And yes, it absolutely can make you dumber. Like I got to hear a discussion between two lecturers I really liked. And one just went off on a tangent and the other was clearly wondering why the hell she was there, this isn't science. BUT because I knew the details of how they were both dealing with the basic problem they were talking about - current science not being able to successfully predict certain phenomenon without numbers to fudge the situation that represent things that can't be proven independently of the need to fudge the numbers - I was able to follow the miscommunication while they, themselves, could not. His tangent made perfect sense in the context of his field of interest and made zero sense in hers. And if all you have the answers with no information of how you got to them, there's zero way to connect "I think the Sun might be conscious" and "I think half of the standard model is based on incorrect assumptions." They were in fact talking about the same things and differing solutions but there's no way to align that without talking about the assumptions, which needs to be laid out in order to UNDERSTAND the answer.

And struggling with my FOMO on writing, there's the basic truth that the reason I fear like I'm missing out is in part because I AM an expert. I have a graduate degree in TEACHING creative writing. I know my shit. So if I ask ChatGPT or whatever to spit out a scene for me, I not only can tell if it is good or bad, I can explain WHY it is good or bad and what needs to be done to improve it. I have zero fear of amateurs asking ChatGPT to spit out a novel for them and getting a novel of quality that I will be competing with. I am scared of people with enough knowledge of how writing works and knowledge of how ChatGPT creating the equivalent situation of me doing long division on paper while they're plugging the equations into a calculator.

A calculator, used as a tool, by someone who understands what they're doing, can do calculations faster and with less errors than someone who also understands what they're doing but isn't using a calculator. But it's not the difference of one being able to do it and another not. It's a difference of speed and accuracy.

It's an entirely different set up when it's someone who understands what they're doing versus someone who doesn't. You can give someone who doesn't know what they're doing all the tools in the world and it will still take them longer and produce an inferior product because they can't understand what they're doing.

And that's the basic problem with using ChatGPT for education. Yes, it can give you an answer. But because you don't know how, you simply have to trust that it is the correct answer. With no way to double check, no way to gauge, and no way to adjust the workflow to better suit your needs.

It absolutely is shooting themselves in the foot. Because school is the point where access to help with process and WHY things work the way to do is easiest to get. It does simply get harder to find the farther away from educational opportunities you get. And when you need it to work isn't the best time to be trying to figure out what you're really doing instead of already having that education and skill under your belt.

It's also relying on the fatal assumption that tomorrow is going to look like yesterday. My earliest datable memory is June 1st 1982. The world is so profoundly different in February 13th 2025, that I am very comfortable promising you that the idea that you can depend on the world looking the same for your entire life WILL get you into trouble because that's simply not the way the world works. Certainly not now. The assumption that it is safe to use ChatGPT now because you will always be able to use ChatGPT is a set up for failure. Will there always be tools? Yes. Will you know how to get future tools to work the same way as ChatGPT? Probably not. I grew up using Dos and then Window's machines. These days, the programs are so different, I find it easier to use a Mac instead of learning the new way that Windows does things.

If you rely on a particular tool solving a problem for you in a way you don't understand beyond that tool giving you the answer, you will be relearning the tool every large iteration. And eventually it will be different enough that it will set you back. That you will essentially be starting from nearly scratch. And then what? If you don't know what kind of answer you should get, how are you going to know if you're using that new tool correctly because some engineer decided that it is more efficient to move in a different direction?

Even novels have changed over the course of my life. Every book I've read that was published in the last 15 years breaks fundamental rules I was taught back in the early 90's. The conventions that I would have insisted that ChatGPT follow have changed. But if I didn't know WHY those conventions existed how would I even know? How would I adjust? Why would it even occur to me that I needed to adjust? ChatGPT sure doesn't know.

That's probably fine if it's just something you're doing for fun.

But if it is your job? Getting things wrong can be the difference between keeping that job and going hungry. It is not a good idea to be utterly dependent on your tools. Tools are to make what you're doing easier, not to do the task for you all together.

Yeah, just don't. The grades are not as important as what you will be able to do (or not be able to do) later in life. And sometimes that later can be a LOT sooner than you anticipate. I watched a LOT of people wash out or nearly wash out of college because they didn't know the whys and hows of what they were doing academically. I saw straight A students flunk out because they just learned the cheat or because their schools were crap and only taught one way to do things or taught nothing at all and just let the cards fall. I had a good friend who came in with a 4.2 GPA and nearly flunk out because she wasn't taught basic skills I had gotten in middle school.

Which was intentional.

Because she was black and poor and I wasn't.

Her schooling was designed to fail her because the best way to make sure someone as smart as her STAYED black and poor was to let her fly without ever teaching her the skills to do better when she needed to. And she was damned smart. And she worked damned hard. And she pulled through and got a master's before I did. But she was in the extreme minority and had a lot of help and still slid through by the skin of her teeth. Most people in her position crashed and burned and ended up WORSE off than they started. Which is great for the powers that be because it makes them a demonstration of why you shouldn't even try. It shows that society is stacked against you. Because it is. Because it is designed to fail.

Understand that ChatGPT is the same set up. It will make things easier. For now. It will give you the answers. It will work. Until it hits the level it can't anymore. And that WILL happen. It is inevitable. And then you have no supports and you ARE going to crash and burn.

There is a reason that ChatGPT is cheap and being forced on everyone. It is controlled by the people who are being served by the current societal structure.

Are you being served? Are you sure? Because if there is ANYTHING about you they can benefit by crushing, washing you out, setting you out to sacrifice, they're going to do it. Anything that is free in our society is a tool to make YOU the product. And they're damn good at doing it. So think long and hard about using that tool when they have so much history and investment in making you crap out for their benefit. Don't rely on them to save you.

I just started grad school this fall after a few years away from school and man I did not realize how dire the AI/LLM situation is in universities now. In the past few weeks:

I chatted with a classmate about how it was going to be a tight timeline on a project for a programming class. He responded "Yeah, at least if we run short on time, we can just ask chatGPT to finish it for us"

One of my professors pulled up chatGPT on the screen to show us how it can sometimes do our homework problems for us and showed how she thanks it after asking it questions "in case it takes over some day."

I asked one of my TAs in a math class to explain how a piece of code he had written worked in an assignment. He looked at it for about 15 seconds then went "I don't know, ask chatGPT"

A student in my math group insisted he was right on an answer to a problem. When I asked where he got that info, he sent me a screenshot of Google gemini giving just blatantly wrong info. He still insisted he was right when I pointed this out and refused to click into any of the actual web pages.

A different student in my math class told me he pays $20 per month for the "computational" version of chatGPT, which he uses for all of his classes and PhD research. The computational version is worth it, he says, because it is wrong "less often". He uses chatGPT for all his homework and can't figure out why he's struggling on exams.

There's a lot more, but it's really making me feel crazy. Even if it was right 100% of the time, why are you paying thousands of dollars to go to school and learn if you're just going to plug everything into a computer whenever you're asked to think??

[giodoodless]

captain america brave new world coming out soon so i thought: sambucky hcs 🥰

Bucky keeps a whole bunch of photos of Sam in a locked fold in his gallery and not a single soul can see what's in there. It's his naughty little secret and he gets all smiley by just thinking about it.

Cold season is Sam's perfect excuse to just shove his face against Bucky's chest whenever his wants. His supersoldier boyfriend is a walking furnace and he'll miss no chance to rub his nose between his pecks and let those arms hold him. Bucky snorts, cheeks burning red. He kisses Sam's forehead and hugs him tight, enjoying the company of his loving boyfriend.

By the way they will cuddle EVERY CHANCE THEY GET 'cause they love it, they love spending as much time together as they can. At least one call at a day when they're away, Bucky with those idiots from Thunderbolts and Sam in missions being cap. Unending promises and sweet words shared, Bucky saying the minute they get home he'll make them dinner and cuddle the whole night and that makes Sam warm all over.

If there's even a chance Bucky will get to see Sam being Captain America and watch him order people around with that grave, majestic voice of his in his white cap suit.... count him in. Bucky's not interested in anything to do with the mission ahead, his old ass is only interested in watching his gorgeous boyfriend be the natural leader that he is, boss him around and fly with his wings. Sam's giving him orders and Bucky only hears blah blah blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff.

Bucky's tights are thick and strong. Sam has seen the old man use his metal arm to shield people from huge flying objects and those strong legs keep him in place. Sam likes that very much ;)). Tight pants are a must and when Bucky wants to know why, Sam just shrugs his shoulders and makes him wear what he wants. “Just do what your captain says Barnes!” Sam demands and Bucky arches up an eyebrow, huffing out a laugh, putting on tight jeans and walking back and forth on purpose, just to tease. Sam is looking at the old man's tiny little ass with no respect, he is looking like a slut 👀😍.

Back rubs are the thing for Sam. Bucky's warm hand starts making circles around his shoulder blades and middle back and Sam's already snoring peacefully against him, the weight of the world falling off his shoulders instantly. Man doesn't hear SHIT, it's like he's fucking dead because he's just so serene and breathing so slow, totally comfortable in Bucky's embrace. When that happens, Bucky checks on him every second. Sam's so still and silent it actually scares him. the fear of loosing Sam sometimes goes over his head and makes him paranoid. Bucky enjoys the feeling of Sam against him so slack and easy, limbs heavy. He gives his body a light squeeze and Sam snugs in more :').

Anything to do with hair make Bucky weak. Sam's just taking a look at his hair, fingers running through his roots and going down his neck nape, and Bucky's already loosing his shit. Can't have a single coherent thought, he just sighs and let his body relax, whining like a clingy cat when Sam stops, grabbing Sam's hands with a desperation that leaves him shocked. Bucky tries to act cool and fails miserably, asking Sam and only Sam to tie his hair, to brush it. It'd be a big fat lie if Sam said he didn't enjoy the fact that only he gets to caress it. They're laid down together and Sam runs his fingers through it slowly, instantly smiling at the sweet sound Bucky makes. Sam groans with pure adoration.

Bucky takes a whole bunch of videos of Sam and makes funny editing with it. Just stupid shit and he laughs the loudest while watching what he's done. He gets Aj and Cass to watch them too and they have the greatest time of their lives. They laugh at his face and Sam prays to god the embarrassment will end soon, but it never does. Lmao even Sarah and Joaquin join in Bucky's bullshit it's hilarious.

Long videos of Bucky doing anything, but especially some heavy work at the docks while helping people. When the house is all empty, redwing plays some of those videos on the TV for Sam to watch. His eyes don't even blink, not once. The camera zoom in his face, gorgeous smile and piercing blue eyes, that beard turning slowly white and his dark hair. Those shoulders and that shinning metal arm. Sam smirks, thinking to himself: that's all mine.

As much as Bucky's really into Sam's ass, he's got a much bigger thing for his waist and chest. Always cracking up dumb jokes like “man where's your bra? cause i can see your titties from here” and watching Sam die of embarrassment with a big, soft smile. A sneaky hand always finds its way to his smooth, toned waist and sides, squeezing the skin lightly and getting a sharp breath out of Sam. Sleeping with a hand on Sam's pecks is a must and Sam just lets him do it. He thinks it's cute.

[sincerelybubbles]

hi ! i love your writing! 🫶🏼

i saw you were open for james and the marauders so could you possibly do one where the reader is still a bit shy around pda but james just doesn't give a shit bc he wants to parade her around and love on her? sirius and remus are teasing them and the reader is like "but jamie 🥺 we can't! your friends are here!" 🥺

tyty! 🤍 (feel free to ignore!)

James doesn’t care. He never does—not when it comes to this, to you. He’s never been the kind to hold back, not when he loves something, and he loves you. That much is obvious in the way his fingers press firm against the small of your back, in the way he tilts his head down, eyes burning with something raw, something that makes it impossible to breathe properly.

Sirius’s laughter cuts through the moment, sharp and teasing. "Merlin, Prongs, d’you think you could give us a break? Some of us don’t need to see whatever this is at all hours of the day."

Remus hums, his voice lighter, but no less amused. "She looks like she’s about to bolt, James. Maybe rein it in before you scare her off."

They’re joking, but it doesn’t make the weight of their words any less suffocating. You press your palms against James’s chest, not really pushing, not really resisting, just something to ground yourself. Your voice comes out quieter than you mean it to. "James, we can’t. Your friends are here."

It’s an unspoken plea, a quiet request to let you retreat before the warmth in your chest swells too big to contain. But James doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t let go. His hand slides higher, slow, deliberate, tracing the curve of your spine like he’s memorizing the shape of you. His head dips closer, his voice barely above a murmur.

"I don’t care who’s here."

And you know he means it. You know, because his eyes tell you everything—because when James Potter loves something, he loves it loudly, shamelessly, and completely. There is no halfway with him, no hesitance, no space between wanting and having.

You swallow, glancing away, but he doesn’t let you escape that easily. His fingers find your chin, tilting your face back up to his. "Don’t hide from me," he whispers, and it’s not a command—it’s a plea, softer than anything else about him, edged with something almost fragile.

You want to tell him you’re trying. That it’s not easy, being wanted like this. That it terrifies you, the way he loves so freely, the way he doesn’t seem to question it, not for a second. But James has never been afraid of the things that make his heart beat harder, and for some reason, he refuses to let you be afraid of them either.

Sirius groans, exaggerated. "Prongs, honestly, we get it. You’re obsessed."

James doesn’t even blink. His thumb brushes against your cheek, his lips curve into the smallest, softest smile, and you know—Sirius could go on all day, and it wouldn’t change a thing.

James Potter doesn’t believe in loving quietly.

[merchantziro]

This was Danny's final shot, he honestly didn't have that much ecto left in him to keep enchanting metal. This city didn't have much, it was concerning it generated ectoplasm as is without a Ghost Portal as far as Danny knew but... Not his monkeys, not his circus.

So he built the portal outside the city, hoping it was somewhere secluded where those furries won't bother him this time.

Phantom finally got the portal set up and just needed to find a power source, so he left for what would hopefully be the final time to gather up some sort of power source, however right when he was returning...

B O O M !

Danny heard an explosion in the distance, that sounded like it came from-

The ghost boy ran back into his hideout, but was immediately kicked to the ground by one of the costumed jerks.

"No... No!"

Danny looked over at smoking and burning remains of the portal. They seemed to be asking him something but Danny neither understood what they were saying nor cared enough to say anything.

However what he did do was collapse to his knees, this was the final straw that broke the Halfa's back.

"Why? Why do you keep doing this?"

The costumed heroes paused before one reached out to him...

"Art thee tis fine...?"

...But Danny smacked the hand away with a growl.

"Get out..."

The man flinched back at the venom before the smaller one, a child that might be almost Danny's age, raised a sword.

"Thou art the one with the League, whatev'r grandfath'r is planning wonneth't cometh to fruition!"

The Halfa then looked at him coldly before wailing.

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

A green shockwave came from his mouse and knocked them into a wall. They raised their weapons and prepared to battle, but Danny then just turned away to the portal as tears formed in his eyes before collapsing to the ground sobbing.

"I just wanted to go home..."

That made the costumed freaks pause before looking at each other confused, not really knowing what to do. As the ghost boy cried himself until he fell asleep.

--- Hours Later ---

Danny woke up, only to find one of his tormentors, the one in a black and blue suit, was watching over him in a room that looked like a guest bedroom as he was laying on a bed. Though this time he looked concerned.

"Art thee good now?"

The ghost boy just glared before grumbling.

"...Why do YOU care all of the sudden? You sure didn't care before?"

"T appears we might has't misund'rstood thy intentions, and we wanteth to fixeth yond misprision."

"You want to what?"

Danny tilted his head before noticing a woman with a purple outfit enter the room, she had tan skin, green eyes, and poofy red hair that looked long and vibrant.

"This the one thee hath asked me to holp thee with right, Dick?"

She asked the man before he nodded, the woman turned back to him before getting closer as she puckered her lips

"Good now holdeth still, this shall only taketh a moment."

Danny immediately flinched back reflexively but couldn't react or speak fast before feeling the woman kiss him briefly on the lips. He could also see the man turn away, looking grumpy.

However the moment AFTER they broke, he was coughing and gagging.

"Ugh! What the hell was that for, I'm only 15 and not interested in whatever weird kinky shit you-"

"Do you understand me better now?"

Danny paused when he heard her speak English back to him.

"Uh? ...Yeah? How did you"

The woman nodded.

"I apologize for scaring you, Tamaraneans like myself have the ability to learn other alien languages through oral contact."

"Wait Tama-what now? Wait, I kissed an alien!?"

The woman giggled at Danny's stuttering realization, while the man continued to watch the conversation from the sidelines.

"Indeed, I am Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran, but you may call me Starfire."

"Uh... Danny, Danny Fenton of... Well it's complicated."

Danny felt his cheeks burning green because, concerning potential age difference aside, holy shit kissing an alien princess almost makes this all worth it and he's gonna brag to Tucker and Sam about it for a week when he gets home!

...Home...

The memory of the ruined portal immediately caused Danny to slump back into his chair as he turned back to the man.

"So what? After every time those guys destroyed my attempts to make a portal, NOW they decide they want to talk when I lost my final chance!?"

He folded his arms and looked away, the man flinching at his outburst.

"...There might have been a misunderstanding with your intentions and nature. Tell me, do the terms Lazarus Pits or League of Assassins mean anything to you?"

"The Who Pits and League of What!? No, Ancients no!"

Danny raised an eyebrow and looked genuinely baffled by the question.

"Well according to what Nightwing told me, they believed you were using an old form of their dialect and thus believed you were with them. Tell me then where did you learn it?"

"Uh? This is English? I don't know why everyone else speaks like old Shakespearean novels in this world but at least it's English back in my dimension?"

"I see... So then I assume you were just trying to build a portal home?"

She placed a hand onto Danny's shoulder, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Y-Yeah... And... That was my last shot. Because I needed to use Ectoplasm to imbue the parts in order to make the portal into the Infinite Realms so I could find my way back."

This caused the man to take a deep sigh as he's having a slow burn realization of something before resting his head on his arms.

"Oh mine own god we couldst not has't fuck'd this up any m're if 't be true we hath tried..."

Step 1: Get stuck in another dimension. Step 2: build a portal back to the Ghost Zone. Step 3: Leave.

Danny's got it down to a science at this point. It barely takes him a week to get back home. (Except for the time the dimension he landed in was in the stone age, but we don't talk about that.)

Step 1 was easy enough, if involuntary. Now, step 2 is where it's all going wrong.

This dimension's language isn't one he speaks. That's fine, maybe adds a day or two to the search for parts, but the main problem is the people dressed in Halloween costumes, speaking like they're from a Shakespearean play who always find him and wreck his portal.

And it's not like he can just move to a different city, this one's soaked in ectoplasm. He'd have to spend a pretty fair amount of time searching for another place as saturated as this one.

Meanwhile, the Bats are not having a good time. Some League or League-adjacent member speaking a barely intelligible form of the League dialect keeps attempting to build some sort of weapon in Gotham, and refuses all communication in English.

(AKA: Danny is stuck in another dimension where his English is their League dialect. He just wants to go home now, please.)

[carefreecoffee]

•·.·'Fluffbruary Day 10: Rest w/Dabi'·.·•

Word count: 1110, Gender-Neutral Reader

Dabi had stumbled unceremoniously toward your home, tired and sore from his recent league mission that had gone out of control. It was getting late, however he was glad to be away from the League for a while. He knocked on your door hurriedly, waiting for you to answer.

At the sound, you are quickly alerted. The sleep you were trying to get long forgotten. You pad your feet along the floor answering the door curiously, sleep evident in your face still as you squint from the light pouring in. “Dabi...? What're you-” your eyes are caught by the red on his clothing, the once white shirt stained in a deep crimson. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, a weary expression on his face. He grunted as he shifted his weight, wincing in pain. "Hey...can I come in for a bit?"

“Woah yeah, come in, just -just sit on the couch” you let him in, closing the door before sprinting to grab your first aid kit from the bathroom along with a clean rag. He limped into the living room, collapsing onto your couch with a groan. His face was littered with scrapes and cuts, and his body was clearly exhausted. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, relishing in the comfort of the soft cushions.

It wasn't unknown for him to show up at such random times. Though a label was never given on your relationship, you consider yourself in a relationship, given his reliance on you and vice versa. Seemingly being the only person he has no trouble confiding in.

You come back, looking over his injuries solemnly “Remove your jacket and shirt- what happened now?” 

Dabi wordlessly complies, removing his jacket and shirt to reveal a myriad of deep, bleeding gashes and burns all over his torso. "League mission went south. Got into a bit of trouble."

“I can tell” your voice slightly wavered at the sight of the cuts along his previous scars, furrowing your brows. You take the damp rag, gently roaming it over the bloodied areas. He winced, the cold water a shock to his already burning flesh. His eyes were closed, taking steady breaths to try to remain stoic to the pain. "Don't worry... I've had worse."

You began cleansing his wounds carefully, spreading some antiseptic along his wounds with hospital grade q-tips. He grunted, biting back a pained hiss as it stung his gashes. His hands clenched into fists, tightly gripping the fabric of the couch.He kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his breathing labored as you continued to clean his wounds. The antiseptic stung like hell, but in Dabi fashion, he remained stoically quiet

You finally finish cleaning the smaller wounds on his torso, seeing a rather large gash that thankfully only broke the first couple layers of skin. You tend to the gash carefully, wrapping it afterwards in a layer of gauze and bandages, reaching carefully around his back. He winced, your touch gentle and caring.

"Uh, thanks...or whatever..” He grunted in a low voice, still looking up at the ceiling, avoiding your gaze.

You don't answer him immediately, too focused on covering a few more of his deeper cuts before looking up at him, seeing some thinner scratches running across his cheeks. “You have some cuts on your face”

He finally turned his gaze to you, his face betraying a hint of vulnerability in spite of himself. "Yeah, I know. I can handle it. Just need to put some ointment on them. I'll be fine." He tried to brush off your concern, but there was a tiredness in his voice that betrayed his exhaustion.

You huff at his nonchalant demeanor, leaning in and lightly applying the ointment to the mentioned cuts, bandaging them when needed. “Okay... you're uuh, fine..?” you sigh, rubbing your temple as you lean back “Scared the shit outta me though”

He chuckled softly, a dry, ironic sound. He looked at you with weary eyes, a hint of a smirk forming on his lips. "Scared you, huh? That's a first." He shifted slightly on the couch, wincing as he moved. "I've survived far worse than this, y'know."

You began to pack up your kit. “I know that, i just- the scene of you all bloodied up isn't the first thing i wanna see after waking up.” He huffed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He couldn't deny the fact that seeing him wounded and bloodied probably wasn't a pleasant sight for you, especially so early in the morning. "Yeah, sorry about that. Wasn't exactly planning on getting my ass kicked today."

He leaned back against the couch, resting his head against the arm rest and closing his eyes. "I could've gone to the League base, but...it was closer to come here." He mumbled, his voice growing heavier as exhaustion started to take over.

You nod in understanding, glancing over to his dirty boots that he still kept on from his frenzy. “I get it, I'm just glad you're safe. Don't forget to take your shoes off before you knock out” You pat his boots before walking off to the bathroom once more.

He grunted in acknowledgment, "Yeah, yeah...I know the drill. Don't worry, I'm not gonna ruin your carpet or anything." With a weary sigh, he sluggishly began tugging at his laces, his movements slow and heavy from fatigue. “Here, just take this and rest. You know how to work the TV and also have at it” You hand him a plush blanket, something he hadn't felt in a short while. Sleep began to knock at your brain once more, deciding not to pry at what he had gotten himself into any longer.

He took the blanket, draping it over himself with a sigh of relief. "Thanks.." He mumbled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable on the couch. His eyes remained closed, and it was clear that he was already starting to slip into sleep. "Don't worry about me. I'll be outta your hair in the morning."

You were a bit unsure with the situation however knowing his status, you knew he’d be able to handle himself. You lean down, pecking his forehead before turning off the light and heading back toward your room. “Stay safe” 

His eyes fluttered open briefly, a small, surprised huff escaping his lips. He actually found the gesture oddly comforting. He watched you walk away, the corners of his mouth lifted in a small, faint smile. "Yeah, yeah. You too. Night.." He murmured, settling back further into the couch and letting his exhaustion finally overtake him.

[themilkiestbread]

I'm not sure how I didn't realize the gay lawyers in your bio were THE gay lawyers. Got any headcanons?

yep, Penis Wrong and Angsty McCravat themselves!!! as for headcanons, I'm still pretty new to the fandom, but I do have a few!!

they definitely give me the "idiot since birth/idiot in progress" vibes. like, at first miles is annoyed at phoenix's dumb 2am shower thought ramblings, but eventually it just develops into "if cows ruled the world would they drink human milk" "shut the fuck up wright I'm trying to--OH MY GOD WOULD THEY"

phoenix drags miles to theme parks. miles has a goal of making the most deadpan face at the camera right when the roller coaster drops. however, this has never worked because miles has never been on a roller coaster and screams like a small child every single time

on a similar note, phoenix is Really Fucking Good at those rigged carnival games. he wins a shit ton of stuffed animals, which he and miles set up on a special shelf in their living room, each with its own name and very complicated backstory

"who's the most scared watching horror movies?" both. they're both clutching each other under the blanket the moment the family enters the house. it's an endless cycle of "we can stop watching if you're scared, Edgeworth" "you're just saying that because YOU'RE scared" "well, are you scared?" "are YOU?" and then neither of them get any sleep that night

they go to Europe on a trip once for something idk. while there, phoenix will only call miles 'kilometers'

on that same trip, they swing by the von karma house in Germany to pick up one of miles' childhood things or something. while searching for it, they discover that manfred has a toupee by finding it in a drawer. they both lock eyes and agree to never discuss this Again.

phoenix and maya have a weekly "I'm dating a von karma sibling" support group where they gossip about all the 'lower class' things miles and franziska have no idea how to do, like "miles didn't know you were supposed to put water in ramen to boil it and blew up our microwave" and "franziska asked for valet parking when we went to the burger place and then almost took out her whip when the staff worker laughed at her"

the judge set them up because he was sick of all the pining

[obaewankenope]

They are, in some ways, scared of being a bother to authors, aye. But there's also an aspect of some who read fic, might hit kudos, and then move on because they're just used to a reaction notification being enough (see most social media nowadays that lets you just heart or thumbs up shit and then keep on scrolling).

Some don't know they can comment at all.

Some don't care that they can comment because they expect the kudos button to be enough.

Some don't know what to say and fear bothering the author because they've seen how people commenting on things on Instagram etc can get dogpiled on and are scared of that happening to them.

Some just don't have the time to leave a comment because they're bing-reading and forget the fics they've read.

Some think a 'shout out' on other social media is preferred when, honestly, authors want to have engagement with their readers (we eat up comments even as simple as "<3 <3 <3" seriously, we genuinely do) but they're used to platforms like tiktok and Instagram where a 'shout out' is more valuable because it means hits and financial payoff. They don't realise we don't get paid on AO3 to write fic so a shout out isn't as useful to us as an actual comment or bookmarking of our fic with screeching in the bookmark notes.

Like, there's lots of varying reasons why commenting on fic isn't as prevalent anymore (many of which tend to stem from "reaction to a post being equated with the kudos button and thus 'enough'" because that's usually fine on other platforms) but anxiety and being scared/worried/concerned with causing offense or upset to the author (or anyone who reads the comments) is a big one too.

With how overwhelmingly powerful cancel-culture is and how people are told about or hear of times when authors have ripped on people leaving 'reviews' when they've been unasked for, a fair number of individuals likely worry about leaving a comment that, in some way, could be construed as criticism or unasked for critique and getting cancelled for it as a result.

The best way to avoid that, however, isn't to not comment, it's to have a bare-bones structure for leaving comments, mainly:

I loved/liked/enjoyed this fic/chapter/one-shot! My favourite bit is/was probably [insert short summary or specific bit of fic like a sentence or paragraph] because it made me feel/think about/remember sth specific to the fandom!

Amazing/good fic! 10/10 would recommend! Extra kudos!

That's, ultimately, the easiest way to leave a comment on a fic or chapter because it gives the author sth to look at, go "oh they liked that bit! Nice! I enjoyed writing that part as well!" and lets them know you read the fic even if its not a 5 page long, size 12 font in Times New Roman essay review. It also avoids any of the risks of unintentional critique or critical reviews that authors tend to not ask for (unless we state such in our author notes) that often tend to be upsetting for the author to read because no one wants to be criticised (even if it is being done in a helpful way) unexpectedly when they haven't asked for it.

And if that kind of comment is too much, or you're too anxious for it, even the simpler:

Loved it! Extra kudos! <3

Works well enough for us authors to know you liked what we wrote enough to tell us that and shows us that it's only because you can't leave more than one kudos per fic that's stopping you from spamming us with kudos.

Just, if you can, comment. We don't need fancy, we just need to know you care.

"Ao3 should allow multiple kudos" "I want to be able to leave more than one kudos"

COMMENT ON THE FUCKING FIC

I SWEAR TO GOD NO ONE COMMENTS MUCH NOW WHEN THE ONLY WAY TO SHOW APPRECIATION FOR A SINGLE CHAPTER IS COMMENTING AND I AM NOT HAVING THIS BULLSHIT BE LIKE TIKTOK WHERE NO ONE EVER COMMENTS POSITIVITY

FOR FUCKS SAKE JUST COMMENT ON THE FUCKING FIC YOU DON'T NEED A MULTIPLE KUDOS BUTTON YOU NEED ACTUAL WORDS

TRUST ME ON ANY WEBSITE OR APP I POST COMMENTS AND WORDS ARE 10X BETTER THAN ANY PLAIN LIKE AND WORDLESS REBLOG IF YOU LIKE SOMETHING LEAVE WORDS

COMMENT

ON

THE

FUCKING

FICS

[callmrmorrow]

mark v cecil debate is way too polarized for what it is

cecil is reacting exactly how he should react. omni-man pretty much deceived them all for 20 years to the point where cecil was actually “hurt” by his betrayal (yes he might’ve known he was lying, but had no clue what he was lying about — was his planet fake, was his government fake, was he here to protect him, was he even really a viltrumite). mark defenders saying “how many times does he have to save the world for cecil to think he’s good” ignore the fact that omni-man saved their world MULTIPLE times over, and still was intent on committing genocide. the inner-ear device is extreme, but so is the threat that mark poses. this guy disappeared to go help his father on a faraway planet, came back with another overpowered kid, and is talking shit about how “it’ll take a long time for anyone to forgive him,” which implies that mark thinks, on some level, his father should be forgiven.

wanting to forgive nolan for everything he did but refusing to forgive any of the murderers that cecil employs is… super hypocritical from mark, and is exactly what he scolds oliver for doing: prioritizing people he knows and cares for over the world at large. objectively, the reanimen (who aren’t even ALIVE, they’re donated corpses) and darkwing 2 will save more people than they hurt. mark is a killer. oliver is a killer. omni-man is a killer. mark has more compassion in his heart for killers that he loves than innocent people that he doesn’t know.

on the other hand, we the audience KNOW mark is a good guy. we know it’s his prerogative to be offended, even scared, at the idea of cecil having that kind of power over him, over ANYONE that he cares about. mark is 18, first and foremost, and he didn’t get much choice in the situation he’s in (though he does have choice in how he reacts to it, which he did badly because of how morally conflicted he is). it really is as simple as mark wanting to be a good person and cecil wanting to save the world. of course cecil sees his heroes as tools! it’s shocking that none of the new GOG understood that earlier. the guy isn’t lying and acting like he cares any more than he does. mark is very caught up in his own situation — reasonably so, it’s a really fucking nasty one — and can’t see things objectively, and has a sort of entitlement to him that is very normal for a guy his age, half-alien or not. it’s shown when he gets pissed at debbie for sharing his identity with paul, as if it isn’t debbie’s prerogative to talk about her kids, as if she hasn’t been through the same shit that he has regarding nolan. it’s shown when he’s berating oliver for ideas that he fostered when he killed angstrom (albeit accidentally), that it’s not okay to kill even if it’s to save others. no wonder oliver was confused — he’s just following his brother’s example.

on that note… why have a no-kill rule and then be anti-rehabilitation? mark won’t kill the bad guys, but he won’t accept cecil using them to save other people. there’s nuance to the situation, i’m sure, but mark’s flying off the handle because he thinks his might is right. it’s obvious from the pilot of the show, where the moment he realizes he has powers, he tells his own mom to “make him” go to bed. mark has always wanted to be like his father, and he’s trying to find a way to be LESS like him now that he knows the truth, and that’s confusing. his path is diverging unexpectedly in so many ways, and of course he’s gonna struggle. he’s holding onto the only stuff he knows for sure, which is that “good guys do not kill. i am a hero, and i don’t work with villains.” when something flies in the face of that, he freaks out, because he’s losing a moral foundation of his that he grew up on.

i would even go as far as to say the fact that they call him “invinciboy” in the news is kind of symbolic of a moral regression, where he’s just going back to what he knows to be true, and sticking to it even if the ideas clash with how the world has to be — because it isn’t all so black and white anymore, and mark has a hard time slotting himself into a world that isn’t clear-cut.

tl;dr cecil’s idea is right, but mark’s reaction is justified not for cecil’s handling of the situation, but due to mark’s difficulties with figuring out who “invincible” is.