#these two disasters will be the end of me

[dcxdpdabbles]

#Holiday requests If you're not too busy I would love another part to cinnamon rolls son. Love your writing, it really is a great inspiration, you got me out of my own writing slump.

The Justice League was at their wits ends with Dan. Disaster struck no matter what they attempted to ensure he developed some softer traits.

First, Barry had the bright idea to show him the wonders of volunteer work to help the community. If he could value the life of humans, surely he wouldn't destroy it in the far future. As a teenager, Barry had punched hours of volunteering in the local hospital to play and read to the sick children in bed.

He had done it because he enjoyed making children smile and built up his resume for college. Barry was many things, but being wealthy enough to afford college wasn't one of them. He wanted to apply for as many scholarships as possible, so he started his community service campaign from an early age.

On the first day of their community service, Barry had taken him to clean up the local beach. An hour into the work, a shark had been spotted near the swimmers, and Dan had dived in to rescue a little girl from its jaws.

Dan had been hailed a hero until he picked up the girl's father and threw him into the water towards said shark. The father had ignored his seven-year-old daughter for his mistress. Apparently, once Dan overheard the man panicking more about his wife finding out the beach father-daughter beach day was just an excuse to cheat on her than his crying daughter in the ambulance, Dan had figured he needed to be taught a lesson.

Dan stood over him while the man screamed and splashed, pointing and laughing. Were it not for the Flash's sudden appearance, well....Dan may have actually fed that cheating cum bag to the sharks.

Bruce added it to the shared drive, asking Barry to include a complete detailed report, by the hour, of what happened. They figured they could analyze Dan and find what could make him snap.

Next, Clark took Dan to his family farm. He claimed nothing brought up good children like his mother and father's gentle but firm parenting,g plus the wonders of the hard farmer life. Clark was sure Dan would enjoy all the open space, the animals, and working in the fields.

Within the hour of the pair arriving at the farm, Dan happily weeded around the field. Clark was somewhat surprised by how quick he took to the job. He went inside to help Ma ready some pie and Clark's legendary lemonade as a reward.

It only took a few minutes since Ma had already put the pie to cook before they arrived. The two were gone long enough that Clark could make a nice pitcher and take a few seconds to smell the mouthwatering pie.

He went back into the field carrying a tray of a plated two-slice pie and a cold glass cup, only to stop dead in his tracks. Dan was kneeling, laughing manically towards the sky, within the circle of burning weeds.

The flames were a green and black color. Its dark smoke shifted into what appeared to be screaming humans. The worst part, however, was the lines of what appeared to be renamed scarecrows wearing shackles as they harvest Pa's cornfield.

Clark was horrified.

Batman had added to the drive, "Gave life to inanimate things just to enslave them."

Hal was the next one to try, but no one knew what happened on their Become A Better Person trip. Hal refused to place a report, only stating that he could never look at Hawaiian pizza again. He threw up when Barry brought one in for a long meeting.

At least Phantom seemed happy they were still attempting to save his son. His daughter was also more well-behaved, spending most of her days traveling. It was strange to associate her with Phantom because if there was one thing Dani liked to do, it was pick fights.

She had fought through Darkside's defenses to challenge him to a pie-eating contest. She freed half of his planet on her way out, but not before beating them up to get them to listen.

Her father would have spent time trying to do things peacefully. Not Dani. She did stuff through her fists.

Batman had added classifications to the three ghosts in the file. Phantom was Lawfully good, Dani Chaotic good, and Dan was marked as Chaotic neutral. The rest of the league suspects that his children added those, but no one was brave enough to point it out.

[mrsmangi]

Hello! Can I request the Spider Flower prompt for Lu ? <3

- 🪷 Anon

fries & milkshakes - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: spider flower - a joke about getting eloped turning serious - meaning: symbol of the willingness to start anew; an open invitation to explore the unknown. ♡ w.c.: 1.9k ♡ a/n: hi 🪷 anon! thank you so much for your request. this was such a cute piece to write, i'm a sucker for idea of eloping with a loved one. hope you enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! ↪ prompts that have been requested

You and Luigi are sitting in a cramped booth at an old diner off the side of the highway. A place you would only end up in when your plans have fallen apart. You had been driving back from a weekend getaway to Michaux. The plan was simple: a quiet two-day escape to recharge from the chaos of work and life. A little hiking, a lot of breathing space. As usual, though, nothing had gone according to plan. 

First, there was a flat tire. Then, the tow truck that took so much longer to show up than the both of you had anticipated. Finally, the rain. Not just a drizzle, but an unrelenting downpour that had washed out the hiking trail you had been so excited about.

Now, here you are–both of you soggy, exhausted, and a little more than irritated by the detour that had brought you to this roadside diner. It’s really nothing special. There’s faded red leather booths, yellowing menus, and waitresses that have permanent frowns. Still, it’s warm and it’s dry. It’s the only place you have to sit down and recuperate in.

You poke at your fries, listening to the steady drip of water from your jacket onto the tile floor. The music from an old jukebox in the back of the restaurant fills the silence. The rain continues to pour outside. You glance over at Luigi, who’s been oddly quiet for the past few minutes. He stares into his glass of water, leg bouncing beneath the table.

“This trip has been a disaster,” you mutter, breaking the quiet. You’re not really complaining, more so venting the frustration of how everything’s managed to go wrong. “We’ve barely had time to do anything we wanted to do.” 

“I mean, it was your idea to go hiking in the middle of a thunderstorm,” he says, teasingly. There’s no bite in his voice, just a weariness you find yourself sharing. 

“Okay, so yes, I may have underestimated the weather,” you admit, picking up your milkshake and swirling the striped straw in a circular motion. “But we could’ve at least had a nice dinner somewhere.” 

“Yep,” he sighs. “And now we’re here. Eating rubbery fries and soggy burgers.” 

You snort at the absurdity of it all. He’s completely right. All of it is far from ideal. “I guess it could be worse,” you offer with a half-hearted shrug. 

“You know,” Luigi says, “This gives us a great excuse to run away and get married.” He leans back in his rickety chair, fingers lazily drumming against the side of his water glass. The booth you share creaks under his weight. His tone is so casual, so offhand, that for a moment, you’re not sure if he’s joking. 

“Stop,” you say, laughing softly. You ignore the way your heart stumbles in your chest. “Luigi, that’s not something you just drop on a person in the middle of a conversation about fries and milkshakes.” 

“I’m just saying,” he replies, raising his hands in mock surrender. “We could take this as a sign. Skip the mess of planning, forget about this trip that doomed us to this inedible meal, and just leave. Fly out to somewhere sunny and warm. Forget all this nonsense. We’d just…go.” 

You can’t help but chuckle, dipping a fry into the glob of ranch on your plate. “Okay, enlighten me, then. Where would we go?” 

“Anywhere,” he says. “Vegas. You, me, one of those cheesy chapels with Elvis officiating. We could get hitched. Leave everything behind. Move to Hawai’i or California. Far from Pennsylvania.” 

You stare at him, caught between disbelief and amusement. “The west? Really?” 

“Why not?” he asks, leaning back into the cushion of the booth. “This whole trip’s been a mess. What’s stopping us from making it more memorable? Listen–” He sits up, leaning forward. “–just picture it for a second: a bad suit, a bouquet of plastic flowers, and you in some glitzy dress that you’d probably hate. But you’d look good in it anyway. ” 

His playfulness touches your heart, lingering. You hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. It’s not the first time Luigi has flirted with you, not the first time he’s thrown out a line like this, but it is the first time it feels like he might not be entirely joking. 

“Don’t say that,” you mumble, grabbing your milkshake and sipping just to have something to do. “You might make a girl think you’re serious.” 

“What if I am?” 

He says it, soft and unassuming, and you still. It’s strange to hear something like that from Luigi. The guy who always makes light of everything, always ready with a dumb joke or a clever comeback. Now, there’s no laughter in his eyes, no punchline waiting to land. You laugh uneasily, shaking your head, trying to process the shift in his tone. “Luigi.” 

His shoulders lift in a half-hearted shrug, but his expression doesn’t falter. “I mean it. You spent so much time planning our trip, planning our lives, (Name)–have you ever thought to plan, or at least think about, what our wedding could be like?” 

You pause. Of course, you’ve thought about it. Not only once, but often. You’ve thought about the way his laugh makes you smile on your worst days, the way he remembers your coffee order better than you do, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re dozing off. The way his hand melts into yours, as if he was meant to hold it, forever. 

More than that, you’ve dreamed of what it would be like to marry Luigi Nicholas Mangione. Not in the grand, cinematic kind of way, but in a way that feels real, something that feels like you. It would be small and intimate, just the way you both would like it. Neither of you would want the chaos of hundreds of guests or the endless pressure to impress. You’ve pictured the kinds of flowers you would want–wildflowers, maybe. Simple and beautiful. The cake wouldn’t be enormous or extravagant, just enough to share a bite and maybe smear a little frosting on his cheek because you know how it would make him laugh. You’d stand in front of the people who matter the most to you–family, close friends, the people who know you better than anyone–and say the words you’ve only dared to whisper to yourself in the middle of the night. You wouldn’t care about fancy centerpieces, gold-rimmed utensils, or which fork on the table is meant for salad.

None of that has ever mattered to you, not really. All you’ve ever cared about is him. Luigi. The way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world meant for him. You’ve thought about how his voice would sound when he finally says the words, “I do.” 

Afterward, there wouldn’t be a massive reception or an over-the-top honeymoon. It would just be the two of you, maybe sitting on the edge of a dock somewhere, with your feet dangling over the water as you laugh about how you almost forgot to exchange your wedding rings. You’d be wearing a white dress you found in the mall on a whim, something unpretentious but pretty, and he would be in a suit he’d probably complain about until the moment he saw you and forgot every reason he ever hated wearing it. 

You’ve always kept those thoughts buried, locked away like a secret too fragile to see light. You had convinced yourself they were one-sided, that you were simply too young to be committed permanently, that he couldn’t possibly want the same thing you did. And now, he’s looking at you with some kind of quiet, unshakable conviction, as if he’s already imagined all of it, too.

“I don’t…think we’re even close to that kind of conversation,” you manage to say, though you sound more uncertain of yourself than you would like. 

“Why not?” he asks, tone impossibly gentle, like he knows how easily you could back off. “What’s stopping us?” 

You can’t answer. Not because you don’t know, but because now, the longer Luigi holds your stare, the reasons feel less and less convincing. Every excuse you’ve told yourself–every hesitation, every fear–feels small in the face of the truth: you’ve wanted this for so long, and now, for the first time, it feels like he might, too. 

You swallow hard, fingers tightening around the soda glass as thought it might anchor you to reality. It’s so silly–he’s proposed to elope in a greasy diner as you two sit at a creaky booth, your ranch streaked fries growing cold on your plate. But the moment feels so undeniably right. 

Luigi’s fingers have already stopped their drumming against his glass. He leans forward, his dark eyes locked on yours, and for the first time tonight, there’s no teasing grin, no mischief. Just him, completely unguarded. 

“Will you?” he asks quietly.

Your eyebrows furrow. “Will I what?” 

“Marry me.” His words are clear and unwavering, leaving no room for ambiguity. “Run away with me. Forget about everything else–what people will say, the rules, the plans. Just you and me, baby. Start out life the way we want, no compromises. What do you say?” 

The question knocks the breath from your lungs. You can’t look away from him, even as your vision begins to blur with tears. Luigi isn’t joking–he’s really asking you. Here, in the middle of this old-fashioned diner, surrounded by the smell of greasy burgers and the clatter of dishes, Luigi is asking you to choose him. 

“Luigi,” you whisper, “are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been so sure of anything else in my entire life,” he says, moving closer to you from over the table. His hand reaches for yours, warm and steady over your own. “I love you, (Name). I want you. Not someday, not at a time where everything feels perfect. Right now.” 

You tremble as the tears finally spill over, streaking down your flushed cheeks. You laugh, shaking your head as if to steady yourself. “You’re crazy.” 

“Maybe,” he agrees, smiling faintly. “So? Will you?” 

“Yes,” you blurt out, soft laughter growing in volume. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Luigi. I’ll run away with you.” 

The smile that breaks out across his face is nothing short of beautiful. Before you say anything else, Luigi stands abruptly, pulling you up from the booth. You don’t care about the strange glances you get from the people surrounding you, just Luigi and the way his hands frame your face. The warmth of his palms as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs leaves you feeling whole. 

“Say it again,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing against yours. 

“Yes,” you whisper, barely able to contain your laughter and tears mixing into your voice. “A hundred times, yes.” 

He wastes no more time. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s everything at once—gentle and urgent, tender and fierce, a promise sealed between you two. You melt into him, hands clutching the front of his polo shirt, as if you’re afraid he might disappear. But he doesn’t. He stays, grounding you in reality. Sweet, sweet reality. 

When he finally pulls back, he still has his great, big grin on his face. “That settles it, then,” he says, kissing your forehead. “I can’t wait to start my new life with you.” 

“Me either,” you say softly. 

“One last thing,” he says, grin widening, tone light. “Can we get fries to-go?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We’ll get milkshakes, too. For the road, of course.” 

He chuckles, taking your hand in his and tugging you toward the counter. As you walk, his hand never leaves yours, his pinky ghosts over your ring finger. You realize it then–that this messy, unexpected, perfectly imperfect moment–is the beginning of a fresh start: your happy ending.

[wierdgaypanda-blog]

I love this post and 100% agree. I am personally both mentally and physically disabled. I have chronic pain, hypermobility and balance issues which all combined means I fall easily and often and when I do I tend to hurt myself more easily than an able-bodied person. I sometimes have vertigo so bad I can barely even crawl let alone stand and walk. Getting a wheelchair has changed my life. I'm no longer bedridden for sometimes weeks at a time. Even when I'm at my worst I can still get up and do things around the house and even go out and do errands and make appointments. I no longer have to rely on others to do everything for me. I can actually be independent and not rely on a mother who is incredibly toxic and borderline emotionally abusive.

But because my legs work (sometimes) and I'm not paralysed people accuse me of faking. I once had a stranger see me stand up from my chair in the supermarket to grab something from the top shelf and start yelling at me for "pretending to be disabled for attention" and "taking away resources from actually disabled people." I'm also autistic so completely froze up and went nonverbal. I just stood there clutching onto the shelves as this person pulled my chair away from me and threatened to return it to the Accident and Medical clinic next door. They started wheeling it away from me with my bag with all my belongings still hanging off the back. I tried to stop them and had a fall right there in the middle of the busy supermarket.

Thank god the nice homeless lady who I stop and talk to sometimes saw the woman walking out of the store with my chair.

I don't know what she said or did to get my chair back but she came back in the store with my chair and retuned it to me. By this point I was crying and panicking on the floor. A random bystander saw me and was trying to help me up but when they picked me up I just fell over again. I cannot tell you the amount of times I've been picked up by random strangers on the street who've seen me fall. Every time it's incredibly distressing as I'm never ready to be back on my feet again. People also come up and grab my chair and try to push me to "help" and sometimes it is very helpful getting up hills and I'm very grateful but sometimes they don't let go when I tell them to and I once had a guy crash me into a bench and almost break my chair because he didn't know how to break or steer.

Anyway Gretta returned my chair and the man who was trying to help me lifted me back into it. I managed to pull myself together enough to finish the shopping and now every time I have to go to the supermarket while in my chair Gretta comes in with me and helps me with my shopping. I always grab her anything she needs while we're in there as a thank you and she's kind of half-adopted me since I'm not that much older than her grandkids.

The moral of this story is always be kind to strangers and never assume you know more about a person or their ability than they do. Whether or not someone "looks" disabled is subjective and anyone of any age or appearance could be struggling with a hidden disability. Mind your own fucking business and don't bother people if they're not bothering you.

Also be kind to unhoused people. They're people two and you don't know what struggles they are going through to put them in their situation. Most people are one disaster from ending up in similar situations. Think how you'd like to be treated if you somehow ended up without a stable place to live.

Sincerely a disabled person in their early twenties with blue hair and pronouns.

Like "Yeah I can walk, but I still need my wheelchair" is a statement that both someone who is faking AND someone who is 100% legitimately disabled could say, there's no way to tell the difference unless you're inside their heads so don't try. Even doctors will misjudge a patient's need, they do it ALL THE TIME. There's no reason to assume someone is faking, get that white knight shit out of your mind, leave disabled people alone. I'd rather 500 people use mobility or other aids they don't need in peace than have a SINGLE disabled person get harassed or be forced to go without help they desperately need because people think they're faking when they aren't. If you think someone isn't actually disabled shut the fuck up, it's literally none of your goddamn buisness.

Edit: I encourage disabled people, both mentally and physically, to add stories of times they've been hurt or harassed about faking so abled people can see how harmful this shit is. Also if any of you get mad at me for including mental disabilites/illnesses/neurodivergencies under the disability umbrella you will be getting very acquainted with my soild aluminum knee braces, idc who you are. My brain is part of my body and solidarity is the key to liberation.

[zweetpea]

Mrs. "Wayne"

Part 2

Content warning: Swears, Arranged Marriage, murder (Not by Bruce because he doesn't kill), threats

This chapter is a bit shorter than the last but I think this is a sweet ended to this story. (For now... If I think of something to add to it I'll make a proper finale).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You awoke with a bag over your eyes, a rope around your wrists, and a killer headache.

Bruce ripped the bag off your head. “You’re lucky I have a no kill policy. But trust me when I say that if you’re going to wish I did.”

“Scary.” You mocked in a smooth and dull voice. “Does that work on all the drug addicted mental patients in spirit halloween costumes that you beat up?”

He grabbed your chin and pulled you forward a bit. “Don’t play with me, little girl.”

“Don’t call me little girl, old man. What do you want?” You asked boredly. 

He glared at you. “I should be the one asking that.” He spat.

You looked at him anammused and unenthusiastically said, “I’d like to be let out of the chair.” He tips the chair back slightly over the edge of this cliff in the cave. “Okay! Okay! I want the divorce to be quiet! I won’t take a small settlement! In fact I won’t ask for any money or assets! I-! Um… I want a pony? WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY!!” You started to panic. There were a lot of things you could do, but surviving a 10-20 foot drop into a moat, while being tied up was not one of them.

He tips the chair back onto solid ground and grabs both of her shoulders. “You want a pony in exchange for your silence about the bat cave and my family?”

“Oh that’s what this is about?” The fear on your face dissipated. “I don’t really care about this.”

Bruce took a step back in shock. “What?”

“Yeah. This place is honestly amazing and I’m actually very impressed at what you do.” Your voice was genuine as you looked up at him.

He seemed skeptical. “You are?”

You smiled slightly. “Well, yeah! You fight 2 meta-humans, a bunch of psycho clown gymnasts, two guys in super suits, and just a bunch of other freaks every other week! Are you some kind of immortal being or something?” You geeked out a bit.

He looked at you surprised. “You know a lot about me.”

“Well, in retrospect, no offense but it’s kind of sad… and pathetic.” She looked at him sympathetically

He scoffs. “How?”

“You spent 14 years training to avenge your parents murder and you didn’t think to see a therapist?” 

“Point taken.” He started to untie You. “So you promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Yeah. I’m not about to get dragged into this! Regardless of the truth behind our relationship, bad guys are going to come for me if I start blabbing about you guys. Not only that but the cops are going to hall me off to jail too if you get caught for vigilantism.”

“Oh… I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry…” He sits down on the cliffside with his head in his hands. “This whole thing has been a disaster.”

You sat down next to him. “Bruce?” You looked over curiously.

“Yeah?” He muttered.

You hesitated. “Why did you marry me?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Kid flash made a joke about my irresponsible love life and I guess I took it to heart.” He confessed somberly.

You patted his shoulder comfortingly. “All teenagers suck. It’s just growing pains.”

“I don’t like being bullied by an 8th grader.” He looked over in what you want to describe as a pout but that can’t be right. This is batman! Batman doesn’t pout! He broods!

“Imagine how Damian is going to be at that age.” You giggled. He growled and looked away. Oh my goodness. Batman was pouting. You burst out in laughter. “You are too special, Bruce.” You gave him a quick side hug and pulled yourself up. “Come on. Let’s go order take out and laugh at how stupid Villains are.”

He smiled at you slightly and pulled himself up as well. “Yeah… They are pretty stupid.”

“I mean it took me two months to find this place when they haven't come close in 2 decades!” She laughed and took his arm in hers. 

“Well Condiment king found this place a decade ago. But no one’s heard from him since so the villains stopped trying.” Bruce smirked.

You looked up at him worriedly. “I thought you didn’t kill.”

“I don’t, but my ex-special forces of a butler does.” He closes up the door to the batcave.

“...oh…”

He kissed your forehead and ushered you out of the library. “Nothing you need to worry about. Now let’s go order some takeout!”

You two ordered some Chinese food and lounged on the couch watching whatever was popular on Wayneflix. Bruce ordered shrimp fried rice and egg rolls while you just got a little of whatever caught your eye.

You pulled a throw blanket over you both and ate straight from the take out containers. It was weird being so close to him.

“I thought you didn’t like me touching you.” He reminded you of what you’d said less than a few hours ago. Seems like he noticed it too.

You shrugged. “I don’t like you feeling me up but I don’t mind cuddling. I suppose I should get used to it considering the fact that you’re probably going to keep me under lock and key for the rest of my life.” You shuffled closer to him.

He was silent for a moment before he spoke in a reassuring tone: “It’s not forever. Just a little while. I need to be sure you don’t plan on running off to the alps of Switzerland or something.”

You rolled your eyes. “No! Don’t be ridiculous! …Still can’t believe that the world hasn’t figured out you’re Batman yet. It’s so obvious in retrospect! Is that just my hindsight bias showing?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s the fact that a few tabloids are still floating around the idea that Batman is some kryptonian pet that Superman brought with him that gained a high level of intelligence.” Bruce practically shovelled his portion of food down his throat. 

“Pace yourself!” You scolded him. “And there’s no way anyone actually believes that.”

“Yeah well there’s also no concrete proof that links me to my alter ego.” Bruce pointed out in a playful tone.

“Yeah but… people don’t even float around the idea you're his sugar daddy-” You were interrupted by a certain tween.

“Father! Todd has informed me that he will be over shortly- Are you two cuddling?” Damian sounded repulsed by the idea.

You looked up at him. “Hey terror tot.” You greeted, flatly.

“Damian, I saved half my shrimp fried rice for you.” Bruce offered rather uncharacteristically warmly.

Damian turned away in a pout. “No thank you father. I hope you and your mistress have fun on your date.”

You interjected. “Firstly, super not the mistress. Secondly, it’s not like a date date so you can join us if you want. Thirdly, growing nestlings need to eat to build strength.”

Damian froze as Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “What did you just call me?”  Damian's voice was mostly steady but there was undeniably a hint of fear.

“Damian, she knows about the bat cave.” Bruce calmed the boy.

“YOU SHOWED HER THE BAT CAVE!!” Damian screamed in shock and fury.

“Damian, compose yourself!” Bruce stood up. The two stared each other down from opposite sides of the couch.

“So are we abandoning movie night?” Your question went unanswered as Damian started ripping into Bruce about how irresponsible it was for him to show it off to “Impress her” (his words); and how hypocritical he was.

Bruce finally grabbed Damian’s shoulders and got him to quiet down. “She found the batcave.”

“A likely story.” Damian crossed his arms and grimaced at you.

“History of taxes, fifth shelf from the bottom, middle-right to the left of the big bay window in the library, dewey decimal number 336.20.”

“It took you two months to find the bat cave?” Damian raised an eyebrow at you.

You looked back at him. “In all honesty I just wanted to read something you guys hadn’t. Some books might be boring but it’s better to actually read the books to you rather than flaunt them, like some wannabe Jay Gatsby.”

Damian stood there in shock. “You’ve read The Great Gatsby?”

You scoffed. “Everyone had to read The Great Gatsby. I had a terrible teacher that basically told us Daisy was the victim throughout the Novel. Which I would understand if she was drawing that conclusion from synchronizing her with Fitzgerald’s actual wife Zelda but she wasn’t.” You paused the movie for a second. “The Great Gatsby is a weird novel when you actually understand the story of the people behind it. Fitzgerald is Gatsby and Zelda is Daisy. However the entire book portrays their relationship as a fantasy. Gatsby grows to regret it. He lusts for her beauty and wealth while Daisy almost comes off as superficial. The rich stay rich and the poor men who try to make a name for themselves are naive fools. It really paints a bad light on how he viewed his own wife.”

The two men looked at you in utter shock. “What’s hilariously sad is the fact that Fitzgerald based a lot of what he wrote around Zelda’s diary entries. Daisy is horribly depressed in her marriage, and she hates her husband. You’d think that Fitzgerald would realize how much his wife despised him and how unhappy he made her but he seemed oblivious to that fact.” You grabbed the container of shrimp fried rice and handed it to Damian. “So if you’ll excuse us, I'd like to get back to bonding with my husband so we don’t end up like Zelda and her vile husband.” You pulled Bruce back onto the couch and gave him what you had left of your take out.

“You don’t have to-” Bruce tried to protest and give you back your food.

“I assume you’ll be out late. You’ll need energy if you’re going to be staying out till dawn.”

“I just want to take a nap…” He mumbled and held you close like a child holding a plushie.”

You fixed the blanket over you both again and got comfy in his arms. “Get some rest Bruce. You need it.”

[woso-story]

Meeting By Chance - Part Three

Leah Williamson x Reader - Part One Two

The days following your dinner with Leah were a whirlwind of work and restlessness. You threw yourself into your job, tackling your cases with the focus of someone who wanted to block out a distraction. But no matter how hard you tried, Leah remained an ever-present thought in the back of your mind.

You couldn’t stop picturing her—her mesmerizing blue eyes, the way her blonde hair framed her face, and that unmistakable warmth in her voice when she spoke. Every detail from that evening stuck with you: the subtle grace in how she carried herself, her laugh, her genuine interest in your stories.

You scolded yourself for being ridiculous. One dinner. It wasn’t a date. It was an apology, plain and simple. Leah didn’t owe you anything beyond that, and yet here you were, hopelessly fixated on her.

Sitting in your favorite coffee shop, the one where you’d first collided with Leah, you stared at your untouched drink. It was supposed to be a moment of solace during your lunch break, but instead, you found yourself spiraling into thoughts of her again.

You had even looked up Arsenal’s next match, debating whether to attend. But the idea felt absurd, almost invasive. What would you even say if you saw her? That you couldn’t stop thinking about her? That seemed desperate, and you didn’t want to come across that way.

No, you decided. For Leah, that dinner was closure. You needed to move on and focus on your work.

---

Meanwhile, Leah was finishing her training session at Arsenal. Despite the intensity of the drills and the focus required to prepare for upcoming matches, she couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The way your smile lit up the restaurant when you tried the meal she recommended, the soft blush that colored your cheeks whenever she complimented you—it was etched in her memory. She’d replayed the dinner in her mind a hundred times, thinking of all the things she wished she had said.

Leah wasn’t one to hesitate. She was confident on the pitch and off it. But something about you had left her second-guessing herself. She’d picked up her phone countless times over the past few days, staring at your contact info and typing out a text, only to delete it.

What if you weren’t interested? What if that dinner was just a polite way of ending things? Leah shook her head, frustrated. She needed to focus on football. Distractions had no place in her life.

---

You were gathering your things, coffee in hand, when you moved toward the door of the café. Balancing your bag and drink, you pushed the door open, only to collide with someone rushing in.

The jolt was so sudden that you stumbled, the cup in your hand tipping precariously. Your first thought was, Not again. But just before disaster struck, a hand shot out, steadying you.

“Oh, no, not again,” the familiar voice said, her tone equal parts amused and horrified.

You looked up, heart stopping as you met Leah’s wide eyes.

“Leah?” you breathed, barely believing what you were seeing.

She stepped back, her face a mix of surprise and sheepishness. “Wow. I’m so sorry… again. Are you okay?”

You blinked at her, then broke into a smirk. “You really need to start watching where you’re going. This can’t become a regular thing.”

Leah’s lips curved into a grin, her embarrassment giving way to humor. “Maybe it’s our thing,” she teased, her voice light.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Maybe it is.”

The moment hung between you, charged with something unspoken. Finally, summoning your courage, you asked, “Can I buy you a coffee? You know, as a thank-you for saving me from another wardrobe disaster. And maybe we could sit and talk if you’ve got time?”

Leah tilted her head, her smile softening. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice warm.

The two of you found a quiet corner in the café, drinks in hand. Conversation flowed easily, just as it had during dinner. Leah talked about her latest training sessions, sharing funny anecdotes about her teammates that had you laughing so hard, tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

In turn, you shared some lighter stories from your work. Despite the stark difference in your professions, Leah listened intently, her eyes never leaving yours. It was disarming, how present she was in the moment, how effortlessly she made you feel heard.

At one point, you caught yourself staring at her, captivated by the way her features lit up when she laughed. You quickly looked away, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

---

About an hour later, your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced at the screen and groaned inwardly. It was your boss.

“I’m sorry,” you said, standing. “I have to take this.”

Leah nodded, though you noticed a flicker of disappointment in her expression. “Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”

You stepped aside, handling the call quickly before returning to the table. “I’m so sorry, but I have to leave,” you said, feeling genuinely regretful.

Leah stood as well, smiling softly. “It’s okay. Work comes first.”

As you slung your bag over your shoulder, you hesitated. This was it—your chance.

“Leah?” you asked, heart pounding.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to meet again? Maybe… without coffee disasters this time?”

Her brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across her face before it softened into a smile. “I’d love that.”

Relief flooded through you. Pulling out your phone, you handed it to her, and she quickly typed in her number, calling her own phone to ensure you had hers.

“No excuses now,” she teased, handing your phone back.

You grinned. “None. I’ll call you soon. Promise.”

As you walked away from the café, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The thought of seeing Leah again sent a thrill through you.

Inside, Leah watched you leave, her heart lighter than it had been in days. She’d thought she might never see you again, but fate—or perhaps coffee—seemed determined to throw you back together.

She shook her head, chuckling softly to herself. Maybe this was your thing. Maybe this was just the beginning.

[newtonsheffield]

Hey UK paralegal here 👋🏼

Our laws are probably different but it would definitely be worth a check if you have anything similar.

In the UK we have something called constructive dismissal which is basically when your employer has treated you so poorly you have no choice but to leave without notice. It sounds to me like you have grounds for this already so definitely look into whether you have a similar process.

Also if they don’t pay you for your agreed notice that’s an obvious breach of contract (unless there is a written agreement where you’ve agreed to forfeit the pay and leave early)

Either way review your contract and remind them of their contractual obligations e.g to pay you for the agreed notice period

I would also suggest approaching a solicitor yourself. In the UK employment lawyers usually do 30 minute free consultations so it’s worth knowing whether you can get compensation for what you’ve been put through.

Hope this unsolicited advice helps ��

Blessings and riches for your advice. Funnily enough, a “typo” was found in the email sent to the staff. Even though the day and date were fully typed out as “Saturday the 15th February” instead of “Thursday, the 27th of February.”

An easy mistake to make I’m sure.

Anyway, I emailed my boss and asked for an exit interview with our third party HR firm. After I found out my coworkers have been engaging in speculation about whether or not I’m having a “nervous breakdown”. Which is now being scheduled.

I shall be preparing.

In times like this I think of a coworker I had maybe two years ago now for six weeks. She was a disaster. Never showed up to work, started drama. And on her last day when they fired her at the end of the day (which i knew was going to happen) she stormed past me and said

“This place is a joke.”

My friend and I now refer to her as the Prophet Donna. The most unlikely people are the most powerful 😂😂

[askblueandviolet]

I'm here to remind everyone, including you, that Macaque called you 'baby', 'sweet cheeks', and 'my little snow cone'. He also told 'you aged like fine wine' so basically he call you hot, all in the same chapter

MASTER POST

Asks Start 💙

Previous 💙

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[mxflowercheck]

So did you ever think about Mycroft giving Lestrade the shovel talk about Sherlock, when they started working together?

Just imagine, you found some eccentric man, who's clearly a genius and he solved your very cold case. But he is also a) absolutely insufferable b) refuses to be a policeman or a private detective ("consulting detective", he says!) c) has zero concerns about social norm and politeness

You go home, tired, confused, a tad mad, hoping for a quiet evening. Suddenly you notice how whenever you pass a phone it rings.

Your phone rings.

You get in the car, your hand close to the gun you still have, no answers, just endless list of questions once again.

You end up in front of a polite-looking man, he's suit is brand-new, his hair is neatly combed, his umbrella is more for decoration - he's nothing like a tired you in your old jacket, jeans that still have stains from today's messy chase.

The man all but scans you, smiles (sincere, but sly - oh, you know that look), offers you a sit. And a pain medication for your head. And talks about the case you (Sherlock) solved today.

He looks you in the eyes and is so very polite, but you feel like that's a snake in front of you.

"I heard that Sherlock Holmes helped you today. And a couple of other days."

Oh God, that's gonna go really well or really, really bad and perhaps bloody.

[wispurring-moss]

alright. i have held my tongue long enough but i can do it no longer.

i'm gonna something that the whippersnappers aren't going to understand & the veterans will probably take psychic damage from reading. but. consider, if you will:

Husk♦️Angel

...that's it, that's the post x'3c

[livingasaghost]

i bought into the :/ vibes of captive prince as well because for a long time i didn't care to look beyond what everyone else was saying about it and frankly i wasn't interested in reading the books but when i see readers saying we shouldn't read captive prince because it glorifies slavery and non-con while the same readers praise colleen hoover and fourth wing and the after series and every shitty dark romance mafia book... i am not saying captive prince is the greatest book series ever and i definitely was uncomfortable with parts of it (because i am definitely not as intellectual as others who read and analysed it) but there's so much worse books out there that get praised A Lot (and especially on booktok) and yeah idk where i am going with this sorry atsjdkf

SAY THAT!!!! like listen i get it, if you're into dark problematic shit kudos, because i looooove me some fucked up books but if you are pointing fingers while ALSO reading a different brand of problematic shit....maybe you're the problem! i feel like people who read books like captive prince or aftg are usually the first ones to analyze how fucked up they are, to think critically and engage with the darker parts of those series whereas a lot of colleen hoover stans on booktok just gloss over the abuse and toxicity because it's all about romance? (or supposedly about romance) like sure captive prince is a love story in the end, and aftg is kind of about a love story in its own way, but i think both of those stories are first and foremost about overcoming abuse and healing from trauma and learning how to trust other people in the wake of all that. the romance is just a wonderful addition to some complex series that allow you the space to exist in the gray areas of human nature.

[wizardsix]

so I'm wondering what the general consensus is on the companion relationships bc from what ive seen so far they're so lackluster compared to the previous games.

(putting the rest under the cut bc this got unintentionally long...)

and you know what? yeah, I will compare it to bg3, bc I vividly remember so many developers, including bioware ones, being against bg3 being the standard. maybe they meant graphically or scale wise, but it's obvious that we meant the diversity of choices and quality/depth of the companions. larian made it a point that they wanted the relationships to be complex, it wasn't about pressing all the right dialogue for approval, and that sometime you have to challenge your friend's beliefs, sometimes you have to argue w loved ones. and when it came to romance, it was especially stressed that sex wasn't the end goal like so many other games have treated romance.

so yeah, the veilguard companions are disappointing, because it is a massive step backwards from their previous complex companions. you can't be friends, you can't be rivals, and you certainly can't have any kind of deep or complex romance. you don't even have a say in recruiting these people. there's no options for any kind of player, because bioware clearly only had a very specific player in mind. no matter what you do, it forces the illusion of friendship with characters you might not even like, it forces you to be nice and supportive no matter what, stripping the player of the agency and roleplay we were promised.

and there's the part I'm the most sore about. if bioware wanted a more linear game with a more fixed protagonist, fine, but 1) da2 exists and there was still more choice there, and 2) don't fucking lie about it. bioware lied up and down about this game for ten years straight and everyone just accepted it right up to release day. we shouldn't have to accept the bare minimum, especially from a $90cad game. that's money most people don't have to spare anymore, the least you could do is be honest about what people are paying for, especially when those who will buy it are faithful dragon age fans who thought this game was going to be faithful back and finally give them answers about the world they cared so much about.

(and don't get me wrong, larian isn't perfect either and I've made a lot of posts criticising them too, but bg3s success shows that people Do appreciate depth of choice and complex companions (see astarion's success))

to me, it feels like they only included romance bc the previous games had it and they knew people wanted it, but they didn't really care for it or just ultimately had no idea Why these romances worked. I don't get any feeling of care or effort went into these relationships (minus emmrich, but especially with lucanis') and it continues to puzzle me as to why writers even bother writing stuff they don't like or care for. and I don't want to assume it's just for money, bc I want to hope people actually do care about the work they do, so im not saying that, but it definitely doesn't feel good. I've said this before and I'll say it again, I would rather have a few characters with depth in friendship/rivalry with no romance, rather than ones that clearly have depth but is never explored. it's so frustrating to see wasted potential and it's even more frustrating to have my time and money wasted.

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

i know that ep12 with its sunbathing scene at the market place is known as one of the most romantic scenes in the show and i dearly love it too BUT HAVE U EVER LAID EYES UPON THE RIVER SCENE AT THE START OF EP12 BECAUSE AAAA

[sysig]

Maybe something with Mousey being jealous of Hunter and Smoker for one reason or another? hehe

Day 7 - There might be a reason for that

Bonus:

[seventeenlovesthree]

Since @jamesthedigidestined and I were looking up sources to reply to @firedragon1321's lore post about Homeostasis, I checked what exactly Tri had to say about this part (quote from here):

"Tri, however, states Homeostasis is a proper god and effectively becomes the god of the DigiWorld via shutting down Yggdrasill, which shouldn't be possible under the original canon. If the server shuts down, so does any programs running on it, including the Digital World, and there are very few sources that illustrate a post-Yggdrasill world, let alone the mechanics of such a thing."

So I was checking the German Digimon wiki about Ygdrasil and it led me to the last Tri movie, "Bokura no Mirai". As I tried to find the evidence on Ygdrasil being shut down, this was literally the only thing I found:

Guess what - this is within the very last minutes of the movie and it's JUST a summary of "what happened in the past three months since you've returned to Tottori" Takeru is writing to Meiko.

You know.

Takeru Takaishi.

Our narrator of the whole Digimon Adventure story.

Who may or may not be quite an unreliable narrator.

Since this wasn't coming from Hackmon or any more official entity, I would argue that the statement is to be taken with a grain of salt. One of Takeru's main roles in Tri is to try to put characters like Meiko and Hikari at ease, pulling them out of their depressive states, so he may or may not have done this here again. I won't accuse him of lying directly here, but just like it was stated above, it wouldn't make sense to shut Ygdrasil down completely. Something may have happened, but probably not THIS and he may not fully understand what it was.

[clegfly]

The best worst thing about my PMMM x omori au is combining PMMM’s ending with OMORI’s. Yeah I’d like two depressions for the price of one

(SPOILER WARNING IN TAGS!! MOOTS THAT ARE PLANNING ON WATCHING PMMM (I have a few of you hehe) LOOK AWAY!!!)

[mad-hunts]

just imagining one of the doctors from arkham trying to get through to barton by calling an unprompted, sort of intervention-like therapy session even though he has been TOTALLY uncooperative even during the previous normal one's he's had with them and this doctor telling him something like ' you know, you can't just keep on fighting people who said something you don't like / did something you don't like towards you. you've got to communicate with them that you didn't like it ' while they're just staring at a barton who has like. the BIGGEST shiner on his face and dried blood underneath his nose from fighting someone that day is 💀 idk but for some reason, it's making me cackle JSJSJ he is so bad and for what reasonnn