#or sent one word responses

[angelic-eros]

Sometimes I wonder how much of myself I have to bend and shape and work around before someone will say they’re proud of what I’ve become

[mxtxfanatic]

Jiang Cheng: My dad always cared about Wei Wuxian more than me 😡

Jiang Fengmian's response to a letter home slandering Wei Wuxian's character and blaming every other disciple's bad behavior solely on him:

“Wei Ying has always been like this. I am sorry he has caused you so much trouble, sir. Please discipline him appropriately.” Thus, Wei Wuxian was punished again.

—Chapt. 14: Elegance IV, fanyiyi

[allisonjamaica]

teen wolf characters as texts i’ve sent and received

liam: he’s “foul🤢”? no he’s “✨foul✨ 🤭😮‍💨”

theo: seduction via dna sample collection <3

malia: unchaperoned and you can Bet my ankles will be out and about

lydia: disrespectfully where were the brain cells

mason: i love you and your delulu tendencies but be so for real right now

corey: ohh so she’s 🚨crazy🚨 not 🥰crazy🥰

scott: i’m so sorry i thought Today was Two Days Ago i am Tired

stiles: look we are Professional Shenanigists™ first and humans second

derek: get ahold of yourself, and for the love of God, don’t start crying or i’m disowning you ❤️

[nomairuins]

i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

eyes snap open guys we have a desperate lack of soulmate AUs in this fandom i fear

we have so many possibilities to work with...

hesphael soulmate AU where your first words are imprinted on your skin in the soulmate's handwriting. they first meet when theyre like 9 or younger, so they're still learning how to write and their motor skills are shit. the words on their arms are in the handwriting of their adult selves. they watch each other grow into the person that had always been promised to them by the universe.

tesilette soulmate AU where whatever you write on your skin shows up on your soulmate's as well. the first thing tesilid does in each round is to reach for a pen. every round he spends a couple of minutes or hours staring desperately at his skin for a response.

in round 17 he didn't even have to reach for a pen - she's right there in front of him. at last.

[torchickentacos]

Things my middle-aged mother has said that caught me off guard and made me have to pause whatever I was doing and laugh:

Huge if true

Canon

Shrimps is bugs (WHERE DID SHE LEARN THIS ONE????)

Will update as more come in

[feroluce]

Ok so the post featuring Al Haitham and Kaveh's Stupid Dumbass Relationship that I told myself I was gonna write after this ficlet like over a week ago, because like. I absolutely adore them.

They're such a hot mess! They're so weird! They're married! They're exes! They're probably the closest thing either one has to family, at least there in Sumeru for Kaveh and just in general for Al Haitham. They're probably each other's emergency contacts.

And they're so domestic, between things like furniture shopping together, Kaveh bringing home leftover food from outings for Al Haitham, and Al Haitham helping Kaveh hang paintings, but they bicker so gotdamn much that it's not even domestic bliss, it's more like. Domestic conflict. Domestic strife skjzndkdk

But my absolute favorite term for them is rivals. Like they're the type of ideal rivals you see emphasized in a shonen anime or a pokemon game or something. Kaveh and Al Haitham balance each other's traits perfectly, and they challenge and push and motivate the other in ways no one else could.

They're each other's perfect reflections! They act as each other's whetstones! They keep the other sharp and focused and in peak form! Kaveh says it himself at the akademiya extravaganza in 3.6, there is nothing more sacred to scholars than debating differing philosophies! They have something sacred with each other and fill roles in the other's life no one else possibly could!!

[indiegame]

this week was so long

[sunshinesalmon]

thanks for that post. 10 years of medical training, humiliation and exams, followed by lack of employment due to cutbacks to healthcare, just so I can read your reblogged little post about how doctors say they know everything and humiliate patients. And the notes about how all doctors do is tell people they're fat. Which of course is the truth 100% of the time. Right. Great. Good to know nothing I ever did amounted to anything, that my own generation hates me. Thanks for that, thanks for the anxiety attack, for making me cry on the bus home, you shitbrick. There's no good doctors, mate, you're absolutely right. This doesn't hurt anyone, we don't try to go into this field because we care, because we want to help. We just want power and money, right? Because we're famously overpaid, us the doctors? True, right? Love and peace. I wish you the best. I'm going to fucking kill myself

crazy how you’re studying to become a doctor when you can’t read

[fideidefenswhore]

[zorilleerrant]

Hi, just saw the word prompt thing? I don't know if you're still doing them or taking them, but if you are, would you mind something with either 25: Hair or 27: Sick with Bruce and/or Jason? Thank you so much! Love your writing ❤️❤️❤️

(absolutely still taking them! see this is the problem with reblogging everything in a row instead of in a queue because that post is like three hours old or something)

"I'm not sick," Jason says, once the coughing fit is over, trying to shove himself away from Bruce without stumbling over. If he falls while Bruce is watching, Bruce will know he's lying, and then he's done for. The thought only occurs to him when he's already leaning against Bruce's shoulder.

"I know you're not, Champ," Bruce says, and it's ridiculous hearing that tone of voice when he's full on Batman mode, the cowl on with smudges of greasepaint all across his eyelids, wrapping the cape around him like when he was small. It doesn't work. The cape back then was soft, quilted one patch at a time by Alfred's careful hand, and warm enough to keep at least the chill of Gotham's winds howling over rooftops at bay. Now it's the thinnest nanofiber metamaterial Jason's ever seen, soft as silk but not half as warm.

It's a nice night. He's only cold because he has the flu, but Jason always wears a mask, so why is that his fucking problem? Nothing's supposed to be able to get through the filters. Not even whatever has Bruce so wary, using dad voice even through his gas mask. "I'm fine. There's just a problem with the filters." Is there a problem with the filters? He was coughing earlier, and something smelled deep maroon and ominous. The people shuffling around the building - no one left inside, but not so far removed yet - are coughing, too. Speaking in strange voices, like they don't know what they're saying themselves. Their faces screw up when they try to talk.

"Jaylad? Are you with me?" Bruce says, pulling Jason's full weight against his chest, as if they're not in front of a crowd right now, cameras pointed at them from all sides. Jason barely refrains from shoving him away, feeling like a little kid trying not to get hugged at school again, and aware that most of the reason he's not pushing is that he doesn't have the energy, and he needs something to balance his weight on anyhow. "How much of that stuff did you breathe in? Here, list off your siblings, will you? I don't know who's behind this new toxin, but we'll find them."

"No one's behind it," Jason says, completely ignoring Bruce's instruction, and fuck him for trying to give it, anyway, Jason is fine. "Look around at the fucking building, B, it was a science fair. It was an accident. No one was behind - okay, actually, that's a lie, Black Mask is behind it, but it's not exactly like you can throw him off a roof over it, so." Jason can throw him off a roof. Maybe. Once he gets a good night's sleep, at least. Oh, fuck, sleep sounds good, right about now. If only Bruce would hurry up and get him to the Batmobile. Of course, if he says that, Batman's going to worry. Like an asshole.

"Black Mask?" Bruce says, in horror, finally moving them in the direction of the car, finally moving Jason out of the way of paramedics that he's absolutely certain would demand to take his temperature and then the jig would be up. "What the hell does he have to do with any of it? How long has he been running this plot?" Oh, sure, once you bring Roman up, Bruce is all invested again. Couldn't have just listened when Jason said the sprinkler systems needed to be double checked. 'Oh we just checked them last week' last week before the last villain siphoned toxins through them again, yeah. Some detective.

"Well, it's not about to help to fight crime at him, B, I assure you, all of his horrifying chemicals are perfectly legal," Jason says, climbing into the chair and reclining it so he can lie down and never get up again. He almost can't hear himself over the roar of the Batmobile's engine. "Some idiot posts a video about how you can hack the blush, soak it in alcohol and precipitate out the metallic component. You know the new bronze and silver ones? Yeah. Well, if you're not careful, you know. I was checking to see if it's made of Nth metal. Some precocious teens beat me to it, I guess."

"That can't possibly be legal," Bruce says, taking a curve a little bit slower than Jason would've expected him to, even on the drive home, even while they're having a totally civil conversation and Jason hasn't yet resorted to trying to bite him. "There are all sorts of regulations on strange metals. We voted on a referendum last week! And you're telling me he's doing this through his company? To, what, entice kids to accidentally cobble together bombs?"

"He doesn't fucking care about the kids, Bruce. I don't even know if he knows - like the advertising isn't even aiming at them, it's aiming at, fuck, celebrities and influencers and shit, he probably doesn't even know it can do this or he'd be selling the shit to Wall," Jason says, tiredly, words that would be mumbled through his hands if his helmet weren't beaming them straight to Bruce's earpiece. "He just found a way to pawn off his trash to the rest of his company, and told them to come up with profits. And they did! Like you always say, crime doesn't fucking pay, eh?"

"Okay. I very much do not want Amanda Waller to get her hands on this. You really think that's his long term plan?" Jason shuts his eyes, not that Bruce can tell under the mask. Because, like, did he fucking say that? Bruce never listens when Jason tries to explain in completely straightforward English - or any other fucking thing - what is going on in Gotham. He missed the limited edition pretzels, too. Asshole. A warm gust of wind blows across his face and Jason realizes that, at some point while he wasn't responding, Bruce pulled his helmet off. Undoing all the latches silently and everything. He's saying something soothing.

Jason ignores him. Wiggles his mouth a little; it's always easier talking when you don't have to aim directly at the mic. He's used to it enough it's reflexive by this point, but it still makes his jaw sore. "Yo, you know the mayor's get kickbacks, even the new one - I mean, I didn't ask him personally, so his kickback may be, like, his own head - there's no such thing as a regulation with no loopholes in Gotham." And then the kids try to mix it up and test out cool new properties, two projects get too close to each other, someone's baking soda volcano sets of a chain reaction or whatever happened in there. The sprinklers took a beat too long to set themselves in motion, Jason knows that part for sure.

"Jay, kiddo, you sound like you swallowed an entire sheep worth of steel wool," Bruce says, in that grudging way where he's trying to show emotion the way Leslie taught him to, but he sucks at it, because Alfie's British and never made proper expressions when he was a kid. Only the thing is he's turned the car to whisper mode and Jason can barely feel the rumble of the engines now, and Bruce's hand is stroking through his hair, and he could probably fall asleep, moving car or no. "Let's get you some of Alfred's soup."

"Yeah," Jason says, even though Bruce is right for once in his life, and Jason's voice does sound a thousand times more like sandpaper now that his voice modulator is gone. "Alfred is the one that misses me, sure thing old man." Actually, who Jason really needs to talk to is Lucius. Maybe over the phone, so as not to get him sick. Because if one thing will piss Roman off it's a fucking hostile takeover. Plus then they can hoard the metal to, whatever, build a Batspaceship or who knows what, like that part matters.

Bruce's hand stills, fingertips still cool against Jason's skull, and they just breathe like that for a few moments, in sync and slow, their heart rates slowing to rest, just the way he used to after a panic attack, even though Jason's pretty sure neither of them are panicking, unless Bruce cares a lot more than he assumed about a flu he's pretty sure he's mostly over anyway. Bruce squeezes his neck a little too hard, and hesitates before he opens the door. "Alfred does miss you."

[intern-seraph]

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[rainingincale]

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[cantstayawaycani]

*personal

[lathrine]

thinking VERY hard about the exhousemate and how he never engaged with anything i made. he would sometimes like fanart i posted to twitter but only if it was his hyperfixation blorbo (or smut). during one of our failed campaigns i did a lot of speculative writing about my character because he asked me to, and never once did he acknowledge any of it. i sent him the first chapter of Eyeing an Uncomfortable Question and the only reason i ever knew he actually read it was because he verbally asked "did you see the trailer?" (in reference to the house having a basement)

its one thing to share to the void of the internet and be greeted by radio silence. its another to share a piece of art directly with someone and be greeted with a response that is somehow less than nothing.

[mothmage]

me when a new (god-tier, galaxy-brained, divinely-inspired, etc) fic gets slapped into my merlin-rotted brain: