#ye i know it's been done

[embrace-your-illithid]

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Being someone who read Under The Red Hood and came out with the firm belief that, for Jason, it's not about killing Joker, it's about Jason wanting proof Batman would choose him over the Joker (bc shelia chose the joker). Makes seeing any other media where it's all about just wanting the Joker dead is a teeny bit frustrating. to be honest

Jason could've killed the Joker himself, really, really easily. Jason kidnaps the Joker before the confrontation. I can't open my comic for a reference right now, but it felt like he had the Joker for quite a bit before the confrontation. He had him. He beat him up with a crowbar. He had every single opportunity to kill the Joker himself, but he didn't because that wasn't his goal. Make no mistake, he did plan for the Joker to be dead by the end of it, but do you see what im trying to say here

Edit: If I knew this post was gonna get 1000+ notes I would've tried to word it better or something, this was a rant I made on the way to the grocery store 😭

It's not about making Batman kill either. When Batman says he won't kill, Jason adjusts and goes, 'Let ME kill the Joker or kill me to stop me' instead. The test is all about Batman choosing him. The whole final confrontation is Jason's first death again. The parent, The Joker, and the explosives. It even ends with Jason unable to move as a bomb goes off right next to him again because the parent didn't choose Jason. And instead tried finding an option that'd benefit them and (consequencely) letting the Joker walk, again, lol, lmao <-in agony

[marbleboa]

You’ll get em next time, champ.

[tsuchinokoroyale]

Bedhead 🐮👅

[repmet]

@rwrbsource & @rwrbmovie’s rwrb appreciation month bingo: favourite scene

I'll break the sound barrier for you.

[doctorsiren]

reigen you should tell him he’s not supposed to eat the green part

[sweetmapple]

Mostly Hiring manager, but HR manager and PR manager too

[quadrantadvisor]

Pairing Off, in which the Waynes meet the Fentons, just not all at once. 2,443 words

-

Damian feels less than positively about the new girl in his grade.

Danielle Fenton has already garnered a bit of a reputation. Her uniform is clearly second hand, and rumors abound about whether she has joined them at Gotham Academy on a merit scholarship or as “one of Wayne's charity cases.” Neither is true; Father has offered no fiscal support to the Fentons, and yet both she and her older brother attend the Academy, leading Damian to believe they've somehow paid their own way.

Her lower class status and midwestern accent ought to make Fenton a target, but her response to being cornered or talked down to by other students was an unsettling combination of cheerful and aggressive. She is now mostly left to her own devices, despite her notoriety. 

Damian has no interest in the girl. While it is true that she excels in both mathematics and social studies, her performance in English and science are unremarkable, and she poses no challenge to his rank at the top of the class. If he finds himself pushing harder in certain classes this semester in order to maintain the edge, it's no one else's business.

Now if only she would leave him alone.

Damian preemptively slams his sketchbook shut, just as a brash, inconsiderate, annoying girl hops up to sit on his desk. “Hey Dami, what're you drawing?”

“It is none of your business,” Damian seethes. “Remove yourself from my personal space before I-” he isn't allowed to threaten classmates with bodily harm, imply that he has brought weapons to school, or use words that are derogatory to women “-do so myself. By force.” He would avoid her altogether if he could, but Fenton is annoyingly (suspiciously) sneaky. He can only ever seem to sense her when she's just about on top of him.

Fenton merely laughs, high, bright, and joyful, and Damian grits his teeth. “Did you draw me yet?” she asks, and doesn't move an inch.

“No, I have not drawn you. I never said I would, and I have no plans to. Stop asking me.”

She shrugs and kicks her feet. “Maybe you'll change your mind. Can I see what you're working on?”

Damian pulls the sketchbook a tad bit closer to himself (a protective reflex that shows his weakness, he should be better than that by now.) “Never, imbecile.”

Fenton sticks her tongue out at him like a child. “Mean,” she says, still smiling. “I wanna see your art. It's so good!”

Damian tilts his nose up at her. “Of course it is, plebeian, I have standards-” he starts, but is cut off by the teacher entering. Fenton slides off his desk and heads to her own seat. Damian stows his sketchbook in his bag and tries not to think of the unfinished work inside, featuring a girl with dark hair, light eyes, and a mischievous grin.

-

There's this brownstone on the outskirts of Crime Alley, an old townhouse recently converted into commercial space. There's a coffee shop on street level, a tattoo parlor down the stairs, some sorta wine emporium on the second floor, and on the third, a little second hand bookshop

It's outside the border of Jason's territory, but he feels sorta responsible for it, given that he frequents the place.

It's a little out of his way, but the atmosphere is nice, alright? Clean, with soft lighting, but not sterile or corporate like the bigger places downtown. The owners are an older couple who Jason has met a couple of times, and they seem pretty happy with the new location. They're collectors, really, who run the shop to make ends meet.

Mostly, Jason talks to their employee. Jazz.

Jazz works in the afternoons and evenings, after her classes. She goes to Gotham U, double majoring in pre-med and psych, on top of a full time job, because she's almost as insane as a bat. She assures Jason that she does alright, gets a little downtime to study on her shifts.

She always makes time to talk to Jason.

Jazz is an interesting person to talk books with. She cares less about plot and literary themes, and more about diagnosing every character with their own personal malady of the mind. She dissects their thought processes and behaviors, ruthless in her analysis.

She's gonna be a brain surgeon someday, open people up and see what really makes them tick. Jason doesn't doubt it for a second.

So maybe Jason is a little bit in love with her.

It's not a big deal. Obviously it's not going anywhere. It's just nice to have something normal, to talk to someone normal, about normal stuff like books and college and sibling antics.

Jazz's stories about her sibling, Danny, rival Jason's own, and his family is fucking disastrous. Jason isn't actually sure if Dan is older or younger than Jazz is, or, for that matter, what pronouns he should use for them, since Jazz mixes it up pretty regularly. He knows that Jazz absolutely adores them, though, and it's heartwarming, the way she smiles as she talks.

All of that to explain why Red Hood is keeping an eye on a brownstone that technically falls outside of his territory.

There's a girl inside that he needs to keep safe.

-

“Hey bud, late night?” Dick asks the man lying prone in an alley, a block away from the Iceberg Lounge.

The response is slurred with sleep and muffled by a cheek pressed hard into asphalt. “S'at you, Dick?”

“Sure is. We've got to stop meeting like this,” Dick tells him, and means it.

The guy's name is Dan. No last name offered, which was fair, since Dick hasn't mentioned his.

What was weird was that Dan didn't give Penguin his last name, either, when he signed his employment contract. Just Dan.

Penguin has been trying to expand his influence into Bludhaven, and Dick's been trying to figure out why. Cobblepot is a very Gotham sort of gangster, all wrapped up in the city's ideas of style and respectability; Dick honestly would've thought that Blud was beneath him. He needs to figure out who he's contacting and what they're offering him, and he needs to do it before Penguin can get a foothold on his turf.

Running into Dan was a side effect. Dick didn't mean to keep doing it. It's just that Dan has this weird habit of completely disregarding trivial concerns such as his own health and safety, and doing weird shit like, as a random example, getting tired, laying down, and passing out. In the middle of the street. In Gotham.

The main part of Dan's job seems to be bouncing at the club. It makes sense—if you wanted to hire a guy as muscle, you couldn't do much better than Dan. He's at least 6 and a half feet tall, with a chest wider than Jason's. 

But Dick has also seen Dan traveling with Penguin before. Add in the fact that it's almost impossible to dig up info on him, and that tailing him is somehow even harder, and a picture starts to come together. A very vague, very suspicious picture.

It's too bad that Dick sort of likes him, and that he's incredibly hot.

Dan has removed his face from the alley floor, and is in the process of pushing himself up. “Not your business, man,” he retorts. “What are you, a cop?”

Dick can't help a wry chuckle at that. “Not anymore.”

“No shit?” Dan asks, hauling himself to his feet. He towers over Dick like that, but it's hard to be intimidated by a man whose cheek is red and pockmarked by little bits of gravel. Dick is legitimately embarrassed that he finds it charming. He needs to get better taste in men. “Yeah, no, that makes sense,” Dan continues, looking Dick up and down. “No way they could keep your ass on the force.”

“Oh yeah?” Dick asks.

Dan snorts. “I can smell the idealism on you from here.” He starts walking, heading straight past Dick, who falls into step beside him. “You remind me of this kid I know.”

Dick gives an interested hum, hoping that if he doesn't interrupt, Dan will elaborate, but no dice.

“So, where're you taking me this time?” the big man asks, still leading, and Dick stifles a grin at how silly the whole thing is.

“Maybe if I take you out for coffee, you won't faceplant onto any more concrete,” he says, reaching up to brush off some of the little rocks. Dan stutters to a stop as Dick touches his cheek, letting him, then strides off again as soon as he's done.

“Don't care, as long as you're paying.”

Dick stops him with a tug to his arm. “Coffee shop's this way,” he explains, pointing, and Dan doesn't hesitate, pivoting to take the lead once again. Dick rushes to keep up with his not-date, a criminal who he literally picked up off the street and who has no idea where he's going. He can't see his own smile, but he knows from experience that it is both delighted and a little manic. He admits to himself, begrudgingly, that he likes his men with something wrong with them.

-

The biggest reason that Tim played so much Doomed with Ghost_Boy, a couple of years ago, was that they were the only player he knew who kept hours as weird as his were. There were worse reasons to form a friendship. Ghost_Boy was a great player, and was always funny in chat. They were upbeat when things went well, and they were sarcastic but not bitter when things went poorly. Playing for the game's sake eventually changed to booting up the game to hang out with Ghost_Boy. They talked about how different their lives were, with Ghost_Boy in the midwest and Tim in the crime capital of America, and they talked about the things they had in common, like falling asleep in class. It was Tim's favorite form of stress relief, back then, when being Robin was new and overwhelming.

Then Tim got busy. No, that wasn't true—Tim had always been busy. More like, Tim's life fell to shambles, over and over again, and he stopped making time for stress relief when the very concept seemed out of his reach.

That was over dramatic. Tim fell off the game, and didn't keep in contact with his friend. That's all there was to it.

That was all there was to it, until a few nights ago, when he booted up his old Doomed file for nostalgia's sake and found a message from Ghost_Boy, sent a couple months back, that said he was planning to move to Gotham and, if Tim wanted, he'd be happy to meet up.

Tim immediately replied in the affirmative, and then he freaked out that he'd done that and started cyber stalking the guy. He couldn’t be bothered to pretend to be embarrassed by this behavior. He knew who he was.

Daniel Fenton was, in fact, a real teenager from a real midwestern town (Amity Park, Illinois.) He had moved to Gotham right when his message said he would, and lived with his older sister, Jasmine (who had custody over him,) and his younger sister, Danielle.

And that was where Tim was planning to stop his research, for the sake of his friend's privacy. Once he confirmed that he wasn't being catfished by either a supervillain or a run-of-the-mill creep, he was going to stop looking.

But Danielle Fenton's situation was incredibly weird.

Apparently, she had never lived with Daniel, Jasmine, and their parents before. Instead, after she was born, she'd been adopted by the kids’ godfather, eccentric billionaire Vlad Masters, and he was still her legal guardian. It was only after the Doctors Jack and Madeline died that she moved in with her siblings and started attending Gotham Academy, states away from her adoptive parent.

Vlad Masters was a man of eclectic tastes. The stories about him in the news were always covering some weird investment he had made, like purchasing a cheese castle in Wisconsin, or buying up property in Green Bay just to have a stake in the Packers, or pouring money into experimental forms of alternative energy. He was always refined in his public appearances, but he had the desperate edge of new money wanting to fit in with the old. Tim knew of him, but had never given him much thought before. He'd never made a move into Gotham, after all.

But the whole story was bizarre. Masters had gone to college with the Fentons, the three of them creating their own field of study in “Ectology,” before Masters had been contaminated in a lab accident, bedridden and unable to finish his degree. Jack and Maddie had continued their research, garnering just enough interest in their work to receive the funding needed to keep afloat, until some sort of breakthrough a few years ago added validity to their theories. They were practically celebrities in the niche forums Tim skimmed through. Masters, meanwhile, stopped working directly in the sciences and instead turned to networking, gaining some generous help from the friends he made and playing the stock market like a fiddle, until he was one of the most well known and lucrative investors in the world. He owned a few companies publicly, and managed some others under the table (Tim had to snort at the ridiculous naming of Dalv Co.) 

And then the Fentons had kids, and they raised two of them (seemingly quite happily, if the photos on their memorialized facebook accounts meant anything.) And then, for some reason, they named the third one nearly identically to their second child and gave her straight to Vlad. Masters raised the girl in Wisconsin, until suddenly relocating to Amity Park and becoming the town's mayor. There he stayed, until the Fenton's recent passing in a lab accident of their own.

Tim doesn't know what it all adds up to. But there was something going on, with both Vlad Masters and the Fentons, and if there's something nefarious in Masters’ actions or his wealth, it could be entirely possible that Daniel was a plant—a way for him to get an in with the Waynes. Tim has to be cautious, and he has to get to the bottom of this.

That's why Tim is waiting in a coffee shop, pretending to be engrossed in his laptop while keeping an eye on the door, waiting for the appearance of a teen with black hair and blue eyes.

Tim idly thinks that Bruce had better not adopt this one.

[onceandfuturelesbian]

golden age era arthur makes an off-hand remark wishing his younger self could see how far he’s come

cue merlin’s magic subconsciously reaching back ten years and yeeting crown prince arthur (or maybe regent arthur) into their time, where he meets king arthur who’s married to his manservant-turned-court-warlock (since when did merlin have magic ????) and magic is not only legal but respected and admired. where morgana had become evil but was now a princess (????) and gwen was her wife (???!!!!!)

prince arthur, in shock: you married HIM?!!

merlin, indignant: oi! *looks to king arthur for back-up*

king arthur, arms crossed & shrugging: yeah idk what to tell u man

basically i’m a slut for time travel fics and want more

[gloostix]

[cj-kenobi]

On my knees begging for anything trans!Obi-Wan :') love your work btw

your wish is my comand lovely anon, here's obi-wan having a nice peaceful moment training

[screechingfromthevoid]

You know what I love about the kiss? How fucking joyful it was. It was so light and so happy and so freeing.

The confession was so heavy and came at the last possible moment. Dorian was in his lower register, careful and eloquent. Orym had folded in on himself, shy and quiet. They have the weight of the world in their shoulders and they just needed a moment alone together. To say I love you. To let the other know. It all hinged on the moment before there was no going back.

But this. The kiss. It was after laughter and wedding planning and appreciating little things like lavender honey. Everyone was smiling. Everyone was feeling good. For whatever reason it didn't feel hopeless then. In that moment futures existed. Tomorrows existed. And Orym had one. Orym had a future and a tomorrow in Dorian.

Orym was so moved by all the happiness in the air that he confidently took Dorian by the hand to bring him out to the hall, told, then asked, him he was going to kiss him. All of Orym's fears melt away for ten whole seconds. Dorian stuttered and fumbled his words and kissed him back.

It was so cute. It was so joyous.

You know what it reminds me of? The stolen century. After Lup and Barry fall in love over years and years and they play this beautiful duet together. They lock eyes and smile at each other and steal away, running up the valley, away from it all. That moment of holding each other and just keep on not letting go.

The unrelenting giddiness of it all. The excitement. The glee. The promise of future. Wanting a future. Especially if it's together.

[undefeatablesin]

Thanks Eileen, I honestly hadn't noticed... 😨

[logicheartsoul]

if you like it, maybe you should put a pin on it

Based on this post where Bucky finds Sam's board that's filled with pictures of Bucky with strings pushed into it when he was trying to find him back in 2014-2016 and Bucky puts post it notes grading him if he was correct or not. People in the tags commented about this spinning off to a proposal and this was born.

This is my first finished fic in years so, I may be rusty. I hope y'all enjoy!

One day, Sam looks over at the board again— amongst all the chaos and dangling string and pinned up pictures and paper…

He tilts his head, squinting, before blinking his eyes.

There, on the map, is a new picture, stuck through with a blue pushpin.

Familiar brick, that doormat given by his nephews, the dark wood door.

Home.

100%, scribbled in black sharpie, across the surface of a bright yellow post it.

But what catches his eye—

“Will you marry me?”

Sam turns his head, footsteps creaking the wood underneath Bucky’s feet. He’s wearing a suit, not uncommon these days, but something different than the typical navy and grey suits he’s pilfered from Sam’s closet along with his ties.

No, there’s a svelte silhouette to his form, as if it’s important the fit is right. He’s in a three piece wearing a pin attached to the lapel.

And in his left hand is a small, velvet box.

The words on the post it note ring in his head as Bucky steps closer toward him.

“You found me,” he says, close enough his heat emanates from his body, seeping deep into Sam's own.

His eyes, those nowadays soft eyes, hold a glimmer of trepidation, but also hope.

“I sure did,” Sam replies, smile smug. “I’m good at what I do.”

Bucky’s other hand is warm when he reaches out, his thumb resting over Sam’s knuckles in a solid grip. There’s a slight tremor that seems to ease and settle when he brushes his thumb over Sam’s skin.

“Wouldn’t want anyone else to try and find me.”

“Well, you said I was 100% right on the last time I found you. No one can top that.”

A smile blooms across Bucky’s face, his eyes glowing.

“You’re right.”

Sam laughs, the joy bubbling through him, light and airy and warm.

“Can I get that in writing? Or better yet, on video?”

With a flick of Bucky's vibranium thumb, the box gently opens.

“Only if you say yes.”

Sam shakes his head, the line of his grin softer but no less strong, his eyes peering down at the ring gleaming in the lights of their home.

“You drive a hard bargain there.”

Bucky releases his hold, the absence creeping in, until he pulls the ring out of the cushion. Sam’s hand is still hovering in the air when the cool metal slides along his finger.

”What, do you want me to beg?”

The box snaps closed; Bucky’s hand slips into his pocket before drawing it out, resting his left hand on Sam’s waist. His other is holding Sam’s, thumb resting on top of the ring.

Their bodies draw closer, not quite a dance, but movements of a beat they’ve done so often, it’s like breathing.

Sam’s lips brush against Bucky’s, not quite a kiss.

“That could be a start.”

Their foreheads are pressed together, touching, gaze so focused all they can see in the reflection of their eyes is each other. Their hands warming the other’s waist.

“Say yes and I’ll do anything,” Bucky declares.

He tries one more time.

“Marry me?”

He strains to hear in the silence but his enhanced senses register Sam’s whisper like a yell.

“Yes.”

The taste of triumph, of victory, of finding peace and home, is on their lips, and steals their breath before they part for air.

They don’t move far away, foreheads still leaning against each other. Sam’s smile is a bit devious now, a cheeky twinkle in his eye.

“Gonna hold you to that, husband,” he says, and Bucky just laughs.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

_

If you like my writing, feel free to check out my writing tag!

[crowleysplantmister]

Man podcast characters are so cool I wish gay people were real :/

[deadpoolsmom]

it's obviously for exposition reasons but CP9 showing up in Water 7 and IMMEDIATELY unveiling themselves and fully explaining who they are and how their organization works is so funny

Lucci spent 5 years pretending he could only communicate through pigeon ventriloquism, and as soon as he stops he doesn’t shut up. Just immediately yapping about being secret government agents, the structure of their covert organization (that's not supposed to exist), and world government's secret plans for mass destruction. Starting to think Hattori was actually a safeguard so they could make it that long undercover