#obviously there’s exceptions

[renarots]

Me sitting here while I see posts about how drivers react on radios like I don’t say worse in lobbies that aren’t even ranked

[egophiliac]

messing around with techniques! I...like the foxman and the catboy a lot okay

also, a couple of quickies that honestly don't deserve any more effort than I've already given them:

[saetoru]

guys please consider policeman gojo—he sits in a parking lot he knows you'll drive by when he's off duty/on break and just waits until your car drives past him. he recognizes it immediately—and then the sirens go off, and a cop car is tailing you, and you sigh and pull over as you think to yourself here we go again. it's the most annoyingly irritating white-haired man to EVER exist strolling up to your car, grinning at you as you say "can i help you officer?"

and he sighs dramatically and says, "i"m afraid i'm gonna have to charge you with theft," as you roll your eyes.

you just indulge him as you dryly ask, "and what did i steal?"

"well," he starts, just barely containing his giggles, "you've stolen my heart."

you look at him wholly unimpressed—but then the corners of your lips tug into a smile against your will before you shake your head and snort, muttering a quiet, "come here, you idiot," before letting him bend down and kiss you sweetly.

he grins and winks as he says, "next time i'll have'ta handcuff you, y'know," before he pecks your lips one more time and murmurs, "see you at home."

it'll happen again tomorrow. and the day after that. and the next day after that—but you just keep stealing his heart, and he just keeps letting you get away with it.

[ailithnight]

DPxDC Prompt #10

Danny; baby Ancient of Space, Ward of Time, Infinite Prince, Dream Coda; as if he wasn't OP enough, has begun having prophetic dreams.

Sometimes they're about imminent deaths, sometimes it's deep secrets never intended to see the light of day, sometimes it's spoilers to various popular media, and a lot of times just random crap like 'it's gonna start raining at 2:23pm' or 'there will be a friendly cat on the way to school.'

Fortunately for Danny, he doesn't really remember most of his dreams. He just carries on with his life as usual and possibly doesn't even know these dreams are happening. He doesn't have to deal with the normal trauma or anxiety most prophets live with.

Unfortunately for the people around him, he's prone to sleep walking and sleep talking.

It's more than a little unnerving when you wake up in the middle of the night and your newest brother is just there. You didn't hear him come in. Which should be impossible, and yet he did it literally in his sleep. He says "He doesn't have enough eggs for pancakes." Then faceplants into your bed to return to deep slumber.

[bonesy-jonesy]

quick drawing of the sillies they’re besties and Gregory did NOT kill her idc

[deputyrook]

Varric, thinking back to Cassandra’s hatred of growing up around the Grand Necropolis and the Mortalitasi: So, Rook, you must be glad to be out of there, hm?

Rook, who can’t go home bc they stopped two undead nobles from tearing it apart and miss it soooo much:

[candycatstuffs]

sonic with an inaccurate walkman! cuz i kno that that guy does not like any technology made past lik 2005

[oraclenthusiast]

everyone wants batman to be treated like a human and have him lose to his kids... personally i think dc should lean into his unbelievable wins. need to defeat this insanely powerful supervillain? call batman. need to fight god? batman. no explanation whatsoever, just him winning quite literally impossible fights. sic him on capitalism next.

[aalghul]

I think it’s really funny how Tim had at least one parent besides Bruce (who was not explicitly his parent for the longest time) for most of his time as Robin and yet nobody contests that he has been Bruce’s son, Dick’s brother, etc. since far before his actual adoption. But with Duke it’s a whole debate every time.

“Duke’s parents are still alive so it’s disrespectful” Tim’s stepmom was alive but unable to take care of Tim, when he was adopted by Bruce. Is it disrespectful to her to say Tim is Bruce’s son? Or does this argument only apply to Duke?

“Bruce didn’t adopt Duke, he was just his guardian” Do you know who else Bruce also didn’t adopt for his entire childhood? Or is Dick no longer Bruce’s son in any way whatsoever?

“Dick actually called Tim his brother” Jason’s included Duke as one of his brothers.

“Some people don’t like anything post-flashpoint” Those same people usually include Kate Kane.

[artbysarf]

The Moth and the Lizard are married actually

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

*tries to organize my thoughts*

*remembers i'm not in school and therefore beholden to neither heaven nor hell nor any man's grading system*

*joyously shredding & tossing all my carefully arranged 3x5 mental notecards into the air like so much beige confetti. raising my arms in victory, cheering raucously until i accidentally inhale bits of homemade confetti*

(*coughing up itty bits of paper like a cat evicting a hairball with a firm understanding of tenants' rights*) wait wat happens next

[lover-of-mine]

Remember how I made the big framing in buddie conversations meta and then another one when the gym stills came out that comes down to how conversations about Buck, Buck is sitting down.

About Eddie, both of them are sitting down.

About Chris, they are sitting on the same surface

But when they are on the same level and standing up, the conversation tends to be about their relationship with each other.

I know it looks pretty obvious that this is them talking about their relationship, but following patterns on the show, this is them talking about their relationship.

And I'm also interested in what camera angles we are going to get on this scene, because the tsunami for instance they are facing each other but they make a point that for parts of the scene we can see both of their faces, not just them speaking and reacting to each other like in the grocery store for example. I am so curious.

[mylittleredgirl]

it's actually really healthy and important to follow people who ship things i Do Not, because their posts making undeniable evidence out of random crumbs they found on the canon floor (sometimes the very same crumbs used as undeniable evidence for a different ship by someone else in the very next post) creates an excellent outside perspective for how i am also winding a red string around thumbtacks on a conspiracy board every time i log on to the otp hive mind. keeps me humble.

[quekerahkerah]

Reading 'Making Money' at the moment and I love how in this one Adora Belle is so CLEARLY the A-plot character. She's off commanding armies of golems and uncovering secrets from lost civilizations and marches back to town like "Hey Moist, come help me find a wizard to translate this ancient scroll" and he's just standing there giving Spencer from iCarly like "Ummmmm. Does it have to be like, right now...? Only, you see, my dog's just been made chairman of the bank—"

[izzystizzys]

When the 212th collaborates with the 501st, chaos is sure to follow in their footsteps. This has been largely true of every engagement since the start of the war, in Cody’s experience. Had he even an ounce more of a rebellious streak, he might question why and whether the success rate is worth the feral instinct for mayhem his battalion and Rex’ awaken in each other - as it is, he simply fills out the after action reports and then screams into his pillow, which is hard as durasteel and doesn’t warrant the name.

Or, on some days, he steps into the training rooms to work off some nervous jitters only for his foot to catch on someone’s armoured shoulder and faceplant straight into what looks like the entirety of both battalions piled together in a massive cuddle pile.

“What”, he manages between gritted teeth, heaving himself up with one hand supported on Crys’ arm and the other planted in places that make Boil jackknife up with a strangled yelp, “the kriff is this?!”

“We’re watching the Corrie Reality Special, sir”, his own voice calls from somewhere across the room. “The 91st is passing by, so we have satellite access to the Coruscant Broadcast network for a few hours, and we couldn’t settle on a specific show -“

“- so we decided to watch them all”, Rex finishes, sheepishly, where he’s fought his way through wiggling piles, hoots and badly imitated monkey lizard noises. The thought that he shares DNA with these degenerates is enough to drive Cody to the brink of a nervous breakdown some days. “Spopcorn?”

Ah. The Corrie Reality Circuit. When Cody first heard of it, he’d thought it was a prank. Then, they were deployed to the middle of bumkriff nowhere on the edges of Midrim space edging on Outer Rim, with a connection so spotty even classified military intel only got through about half the time, and the whole idea got shelved in favour of clankers and keeping his General’s lightsaber in his General’s hand where it belonged.

Now, a gaudy, glittery monstrosity of a logo announcing a Coruscant Rotational special appears on a rigged up screen, which means one of two things: either Fox is pulling the Galaxy’s greatest long con on all of them, or he’s been murdered and replaced with an evil clone (ha!), because there are no circumstances in which he would agree to star on Coruscant Reality TV.

Cody tilts his head consideringly. Rex smiles at him sheepishly. Tilts the spopcorn bowl at him, invitingly.

“Oh, dank farrik, sit your shebs down!”, someone (Fives, probably) yells out, fed-up…ly.

Cody sits his shebs down.

“Good morning and welcome all of Coruscant to the Great Coruscant Rotational Special: Our Boys in Red Edition!”, a bright red Twi’leki man announces on the screen amidst cheerful jizz music and loud hooting from the training room. “My name is Braham Horton, and I will be your exalted host for this fine, fine late night cycle!”

“And now, gentlebeings of the metropolis, I present to you the images that have driven us all to laughter, joy, and even tears at times over these past few weeks - whodathunkit, that the CSF media project would enthrall a whole Galaxy of viewers and cause the largest recorded peaceful civil protest of all time?!”

“The sorry what now”, says Cody, suddenly thinking back to the urgent meeting General Kenobi was currently in with Generals Windu and Yoda - passing by on the Venator in orbit. “Uhm”, says Rex. Braham Horton, unfazed by the commotion he’s causing lightyears away, chatters on.

“- many hours, so we’ve compiled an introductory little best-of for you, exalted viewers! And what better best of to start off on than the hottest entry of the most explosive bombshell into the villa - please give it up for Commander Thorn and how he stole all of our hearts on Love Island!”

A garish, club-tech jingle Cody has so far only heard buzz through the walls of establishments that generally didn’t allow clones thrums through the training room, followed by what can only be described as the sort of noises spiced up banthas might make. Thorn appears on screen, more oiled up and half-naked than Cody remembers, though just as bleach-blond, hair slightly longer than regulation and smile blindingly perfect.

“I’m Commander Thorn, baseline twenty-four years humanoid - during daytime I might be the scourge of Coruscant’s criminal underworld, but at night I don’t mind playing good cop for you!” He punctuates it woth a sleazy wink and fingerblasters that have Rex honest-to-god gagging, and Cody seeing his life flash before his eyes. If Alpha-17 finds out about this…

Suddenly, Thorn’s smile drops in favour of what might almost be called a scowl on even his handsome face, and the music cuts out. “There, got your soundbyte. Can I go back now? I’m supposed to be on shift.” Indistinct, off-screen chatter and a captioned oopsie… appear in a shower of glitter. Thorn’s face does something complicated. “For HOW MANY MONTHS?!”

Cut to a montage of what Cody can only describe as beaches, oil and abs galore, Braham Horton narrates and extremely close-up shot of what Cody tries very hard not to identify as Thorn’s crotch. His own crotch, in a way. Oh no, that’s weird, stop that train of thought immediately-

“Although our favourite bombshell’s entry into the villa wasn’t without its hitches and hurdles-“, emphasized by a zoom-in on Thorn’s form in a speedo huddled away from a partying crowd of softcore-kriffing contestants on a yacht, “- as well as all know, he would soon find his place in the villa - or places, rather!”

Two crying humanoid women appear on screen, with eyeliner smudges down to their knees. A hoot goes through the room. Cody watches with a sense of impeding doom. “You slept with her after I chose to match up with you instead of Chad?! How could you!”

Thorn, still oiled up with both blasters out for the world to see, winces. “I didn’t me-“

A hysterical gasp, a camera swerve. Three more people stand by the doorway, all clutching their chests with wide eyes. A broad, green Twi’leki man raises a finger to point accusingly. “You were sleeping with them too?! I thought I was the only one!”

“Dear Force”, Cody murmurs, unable to look away from the building speeder wreck on screen. Braham Horton laughs good-naturedly at his misery. “Ah, good times! And who could forget the all-out brawl of the following matching night, where a record number of every single other contestant attempted to physically fight the others for the right to match up with Commander Thorn! Including a somehow returned Chad, who nearly won thanks to the element of surprise. I wish we could show the footage, but then we’d have to slap several warnings on it and probably still get taken off the air.”

“I didn’t know Corries kriffed like that!”, someone (Fives, let’s be honest, it was definitely Fives) calls out into the room, receiving snickers and a well-aimed pillow to the throat for his trouble. He goes down with a choking scream.

“Someone who was less impressed by the hot’n bothered beach weather was Commander Thire, who found himself Less than Impressed by his co-contestants inability to keep it in their pants on Too Hot To Handle!”

Thire’s face, identical to Thorn’s in every way except the ones that matter, appears on screen. His black hair is cut in a cropped mohawk, arms folded over a button-up he’s carefully pieced together with… safety pins? Where are the buttons on it?

“These people are pathological and pathetic and I will spend not a second longer on this farce of an attempt at ‘entertainment show’”, says Thire, air-quotes so sharp they could cut stone. His scowl might be permanently etched into his face, Cody can’t tell. “Unlike literally everyone else, I have an actual job to do. Now move.”

A brief pause, in which cheerful jizz music plays over what is obviously a producer begging off-camera, followed by an eyeroll so hard it hurts Cody’s brain to watch. Thire throws his hands into the air in defeat, marching off into the sea behind him still fully clothed.

“When they didn’t find him until the last episode, I’ll admit, I thought he’d died too!”, Braham Horton cuts in cheerfully. “But would you look at his little lonely island lair - now that’s a fulfilled man, and too many coconuts for my taste! We’ve had to blur his hands out as he discovered the cameras just moments before these holos were taken, unfortunately. And, dear viewer, who could forget this exit-interview for the ages!”

A considerably more clothed Thire appears on screen, eyeing a microphone like he’s about to use it to stab out his own eyes. The reporter clears their throat in audible anxiety. “C-commander, how would you describe your reality experience in one word?”

“Demeaning”, says Thire, blandly.

Silence.

“Um, o-okay”, squeaks the reporter.

“Would you like some more words?”, asks a dead-eyed Thire.

“No, um, I think - I think we’re alright.”

“Because I have many words. Mostly for whoever the *bleep* thought this was a *bleep* good idea, and *bleeeeeeee-*”

“We’ve had to censor most of the Commander’s on-screen appearance, dear viewer, for your sensibilities”, says Braham Horton, eternally and painfully cheerful. “And speaking of sensibilities, who could forget Commander Stone honouring his name in several challenges on ‘I’m A Holostar - Get Me Out Of Here!’”

Soulful violin music fills the gym, overlaid with images of a bald vod Cody surmises must be Stone. Stone stares stonily into the void, glass of bright green something raised to his lips and already half-empty.

“Memorably, he downed a pint of acklay urine within seconds-“

Horrified screams are followed by an image of Stone chewing, yet another thousand-klick stare.

“- or when he ate Tauntaun anus -“

Rex doubles over gagging, and Cody slowly puts his handful of Spopcorn back down.

“- of course the ten minute worm-bath challenge cannot go unmentioned -“

“FORCE PLEASE NO!”, screams someone (Echo) tearfully. Commander Stone, buried to the chin in wiggling orange worms, looks less impressed.

“ - and who could forget his encounter with a horde of ginntho spiders and nests of vexis snakes!”

A remote goes sailing past the screen, missing by a mile, as images of Stone with his whole arm stuck in various boxes fly past. Someone is retching. It might be Cody.

“We would show the infamous butchery challenge wherein the Commander found himself drenched in nexu guts and sandworm brains, but once again, this is family friendly programming and we are not allowed. Nevertheless, a win well-deserved. And now, please welcome the one, the only, the awe-inspiring, the unbelievable: Marshall Commander Fox!”

Another Force-awful jingle, big, blocky letters, and Cody chokes on his own spit when Fox’s scowling face appears on screen. He’s thinner, greyer and angrier than the last time they saw eachother in person. Only the last one is really a surprise.

“I am neither naked nor afraid”, says Fox, arms crossed firmly, foot tapping impatiently on the ground. “I am, however, quickly losing my patience. Explain to me again the point of spending my valuable time undressing in the middle of bum-*bleep* nowhere on the Midrim instead of doing my job as the head of planetary security in the middle of a Galaxy-wide war?”

Several beats of silence follow. Fox grows less impressed with each. Cody knows that look well. Usually, it precedes handcuffs and a cold sonic blast to the face.

“Um… you signed a contract?”, says a producer’s voice uncertainly off-screen. Fox barks out a harsh laugh. “I’m legally classified as military property, my signature holds less weight than if I’d had one of the Guard’s massiffs shit on that contract for me.”

“Ouch!”, calls Crys.

“Gettim!”, adds Longshot.

“But… don’t you sign off military documents all the time for the Senate?”, sputters the producer.

Fox smiles with far to many teeth. It’s also a look Cody knows far too well, and even lightyears away it has a shudder going down his spine.

“Really makes you think about the technicalities of that definitely-not-slave-army, doesn’t it?”, he says, dryly.

“Although considerably less naked and afraid than all other contestants, Commander Fox left us with many memorable moments - such as when he saved the entire crew from an angry Acklay!”

Most of the next holovid is blurred out, though Cody can (unfortunately) guess at the why and how. So can most everyone else, judging by the collective groan.

“Down, boy”, says Fox, flatly, to a hissing Acklay twice his size. It rears its fanged head, and a shudder goes through the room. Fox simply crosses his arms and nails the beast with an unimpressed look. “You are making a fool of both of us. Cut it out.”

Chastised, the Acklay blinks at him, slowly lowering itself back down with a confused hiss.

“No kriffing wonder all the Corrie shinies are such hardasses”, mutters Rex, whom Cody is hard pressed to agree with. “I came from a tube and that look gave me daddy issues.”

“Yes, dear viewer, who could forget these heart-warming moments of good, quality television!”, sighs Braham Horton, dreamily. “Not Coruscant anytime soon, that’s for sure! We are now entering the twentieth rotation of the sit-in protest of a petition to allow the Commanders of the Coruscant Guard to compete on Dancing With The Planets, Coruscant Rotational’s epic dance competition!”

“Dear bum-kriffing Force”, whispers Rex, wide-eyed and awe-struck. “Does Fox know about this?!”

Cody, who’s already dialing the kriffer’s comm-code, wipes a singular tear from his eye. “Not a clue, but kriff, am I going to enjoy telling him.”

[messervixen]

At his core Remus is just that one teacher who “has a wife and kids”