#Standard Rectifiers

[crls2more]

https://www.futureelectronics.com/p/semiconductors--discretes--diodes--standard-rectifiers/1n4148wtq-7-diodes-incorporated-4041450

Diodes, Standard Rectifiers, 1N4148WTQ-7, Diodes Incorporated

1N4148WT Series 2 A 80 V 150 mW Surface Mount Fast Switching Diode - SOD-523

[ducktracy]

Say what you will about the Looney Tunes Show, but you have to admit (or maybe you don't) that its incarnation of Lola is superior to her Space Jam one.

THIS IS TRUE! Lola is one of the things i like about TLTS and do think they did well with. likewise with turning Gossamer into a kid, i always get whiplash when i remember he's just a regular ol' monster LOL. Lola barely registers as a character to me tbh/i don't really consider her or Tina a LT character, so maybe that's why i enjoy them... kinda... in the show

[catenary-chad]

absolutely hilarious that apparently 1500 V DC was adopted as standard in the Netherlands because “that’s as high as you can go and still use wooden ladders to maintain the wires”. This is per a guy who used to live there and worked at the big train museum there.

The way Americans will downplay the Milwaukee Road Pacific Extension vs Europeans going “yeah that was a major early inspiration for our old bullshit DC systems” is always funny too. Extremely questionable business decision that was so inspirational to so many.

[bugbachelor]

Funny idea Darcy is severely nearsighted unless she’s in her trix form. Her civilian form wears enchanted prescription glasses.

Sometimes she’ll just go to sleep forgetting that the spell to improve her eyesight wears off and then wakes up blind as a bat without her glasses.

Stormy has done a few pranks on her when that happens

yes, yes this is so real

i've never been in the 'purely fashion choice' boat for her glasses

i guess it would be kind of funny if she decided her signature look as witch of darkness would include sunglasses in the same vein Stormy's signature look is clearly a sunny weather outfit. but no, i want her to actually need them

she's either Extremely sensitive to light or actually near/far sighted. or both, best version, my hc. her witch from just does the glasses job via magic and she doesn't need them

tbf the light sensitivity has just been one of those long running hcs i apply to everything and don't tend to consciously think about anymore. the real fun is the 'vision so bad she'd run into a desk without them' flavour of it you're so right anon

[sasquach-scratches]

I think Skyrim's gravest sin was making some of the most killable characters ever while making them essential because ~we want everyone to be able to do every bit of content in the game~ and it's unfortunately never going to stop because Morrowind was the exception not the norm

[futureelectronic1527]

Power Integrations: LinkSwitch-XT2SR Comply with EU's 300 mW Standby Requirement

https://www.futureelectronics.com/m/power-integrations . Most appliances sold in Europe will be required to consume less than 300 mW in standby, representing a significant shift from the existing 500 mW limit. LinkSwitch-XT2SR non-isolated flyback switcher ICs provide the perfect solution to comply with the new standards. The groundbreaking devices feature a synchronous rectifier driver, achieving higher than 80% efficiency even with a 300 mW input. https://youtu.be/8jkEY0-GjOw

[eowynstwin]

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

next

[psychotrenny]

It reveals very deep flaws in your ideological framework if you consistently take the position that "Pedojacketing harassment campaigns against trans women are good if happen to be actual Pedos", especially when your definition of "actual Pedo" is "watches the bad sort of Japanese Cartoons". Like from a coherent materialist point of view, these sorts of campaigns aren't bad because they happen to get wrongly weaponised against innocent transfems. They're bad because this sort of interpersonal harassment is completely useless for both dismantling the systems that make child abuse possible and meaningfully rectifying specific cases of abuse on an individual scale, even in the relatively rare* cases where the target does legitimately support or even engage in this abuse.

This ineffectiveness is especially egregious when the criteria for involvement in abuse isn't based off any actual social relations but merely public engagement with sufficiently reactionary media; determining threat through a usually tenuous and always idealist association. And it's even more egregious when the media being cited isn't "reactionary" by any standard beyond the ignorant homogenisation of an entire nation's media supported by various incorrect assumptions about its general social and legal conditions. The fact that an ostensible "Marxist-Leninist" can hold a position even remotely favourable to these tactics simply demonstrates how detached knowledge of Dialectical Materialism does not automatically translate into an ability to apply it.

*by the nature of these campaigns being most common and effective against those who are least able to defend themselves i.e. those who are most structurally disadvantaged by the very systems that create this abuse in the first place. One a structural level these tactics are oriented towards hurting the vulnerable by rhetorically exploiting the spectre of abuse, not at protecting the vulnerable from actual abuse

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny was forced to Reincarnate

So! One day, Dr Fate was doing a routine check on the Barriers between the many Dimensions that brushed up against his Universe, when he found an Anomaly.

Somewhere in the United States, Illinois if the spell was accurate, there was a Sustained and Stable opening into the Infinite Realms. Which was impossible. The Infinite Realms was Chaos Incarnate, the birthplace of God's and Monsters like the Lords or Chaos or the Ancients. Openings to the Realms were never supposed to exist for more than moments at a time, if not less than that.

So of course he immediately went to investigate it.

What he found shocked him.

Not only was there a stable Portal to the Infinite Realms created by Scientists of all things, but Realms Spirits have been regularly attacking the small town it was located in without his, nor anyone else's knowledge, for Years. Thankfully it seemed like one of the Realms Spirits objected to their attacks on the Mortal Plane and was defending it, but that was a problem in and of itself.

He quickly took off to rectifying the situation.

He approached the Protector Spirit and proposed an alliance, helped him chase down any loose Spirits still wandering the Mortal Plane, and then with his help Dr Fate closed the Portal for good. The Protector Spirit helped destroy all knowledge of how to contruct the Portal from the Scientists Servers (he was never good with technology) and Dr Fate used a few memory spells to wipe the knowledge from their minds.

The Protector Spirit then thanked him for his help, but Dr Fate told him that there was still one problem that needed rectifying.

He quickly summoned a Spell to immobilize the Spirit, and began the Ritual he had been preparing since the moment they had met. He was never planning to allow the Realms Being to wander free after his work was finished. Good Hearted as he may be, Realms Spirits were still too dangerous to let freely roam a world of Humans. He was never going to be allowed to leave once this was over.

Still, he had helped Dr Fate in his endeavors. For that, he had earned a more merciful fate than the others had. Rather than banish the Spirit to the endless void as he had the others, he instead cast a ritual to allow him to Pass on and find peace.

With his work done, Dr Fate left the small town and went back to his Tower.

...

Unfortunately for Dr Fate, he didn't know a few things about that particular Spirit. He didn't know that it was a Halfa, and was thus still partially Human. He did not know that it was still a Child by Ghost Standards, and that his Core was not yet matured as it should have. And he did not know that this particular Ghost was favored by an entity that governed all of Time. One that had a rather petty vindictive streak.

Because he wasn't the type of Spirit the spell was intended for, the Protector Spirit (Danny if case you hadn't caught on) was thrown into an entirely different type of Afterlife. The Cycle of Reincarnation.

Clockwork, angered that his friend had been betrayed so calously, helped his soul pass more easily through the cycle of Reincarnation. He wouldn't keep his memories or powers (at least not at first), but there would be echoes of who they used to be.

Which is how Danny Phantom, the little known Ghost Hunting Hero, was reborn into their new life as Zatanna Zatara, the well known Magician Hero.

[angstandhappiness]

INTERESTING

I don't remember if the manga says anything about it but since the FT universe has demons do you think it has angels as well?

I don't think there's any mentions in the manga. The closest is the "angels" that Sorano summoned like v2.0 Celestial Spirits in the anime-only Key arc.

Though on that note, I never see angels as a necessary companion to demons in any anime, unless it's deliberately set up to mirror that tradition. The word demon tends to relate closer to the concept of yokai, I've noticed, rather than the evil-spirit-of-the-underworld connotation in the more western sense.

That said, in my reasoning of this magic system, demons mirror celestial spirits more than other else. They are beings formed of specialized magic, while humans and dragons are more terrestrial and tuned to mainstream, elemental magic.

[diabolicalevil]

I love your writing. It honestly makes my day sometimes when it’s just been a shitstorm inside a shitstorm. If you’re up to it, i would like to see your interpretation of what the primarchs would do if their spouse was murdered or assassinated. They have the highest standing in the Imperium, and their spouses would have only a little less political power, whether they wield it or not, would always have a target on their back.

Primarchs reaction to their lovers assassination

gn!reader

ill b real anon I was in alottt of pain when I got this but I did drop everything to do this request. it makes me so incredibly happy that you enjoy my writing xx

Warnings: angst, reader death, murder

Lion El'johnson: He has had a list of potential suspects since the day you became "offical." Unsurprisingly many people from his legion are on it, including Luther. He wouldn't put it past a single one of them to kill you for the purpose of "setting him back on track." Regardless of who was culpable he mourns deeply. An ornate and empty coffin is on display at the fortress of Caliban and your body rests hidden far beneath it.

Fulgrim: After several political marriages, some failed some successful, he's no stranger to assassination attempts. Key word attempts. Never before has his partner been killed by his many rivals and he laments that the first was you. His legion becomes stricter, not just more militant but he believes your death was a due to his imperfections and must be rectified. A decoy coffin is kept by him as well with a indistinguishable replica. Your real body lays in a room only known to him, preserved as though blood still pumped through your veins.

Perturabo: His legion gets it immediately, they are the first target of suspicion and its not unfounded. Many emotions cloud his mind but chief among them as he tears through suspects is regret that he did not stamp out the growing resentment towards you. He knew it was there but, perhaps naively, he hoped his legion could let him have this sole joy. Of course, he's not ignorant to outside suspects. After some time, your killer may lay buried in the pile of bodies he's created looking for them but it doesn't matter as he will never feel the search has ended. Your casket is sealed in ceramite, never to be opened by him or anyone, but he visits frequently.

Jaghatai Khan: He will find and behead them personally, with or without his sons. But of course they are with him, why would they not be there to avenge the lover of their Primarch. The funeral is perhaps the most somber the White Scars who knew you have and ever will be. However, there is no looking back. Once you are buried he will continue on relentlessly for both of you.

Leman Russ: He and the legion rally to find and butcher the culprit. One of their own has been killed and they will not rest until the favour is returned. To him it matters not who it is or why they did it, infact the only thing that matters about that person now is their days are numbered. Your body is handled in a traditional Fenrisian way and he personally lays you to rest at the place dearest to him on Fenris.

Rogal Dorn: For all his obsessive planning and confidence in his legions ability to protect you he had not believed any attempts on your life would be successful. He blames himself relentlessly, it had to have been some kind of oversight. There had to have been something he could've done to prevent it. Hunting down the killer is easy, he has the might of the Imperium at his finger tips. Yet he couldn't save you. Your funeral is standard and practical but the mood of him and his legion would make an outside observer think they were mourning a thousand men slain in battle.

Konrad Curze: What else could you expect other than a trail of dead bodies as he walks. He has no firm concept of political machinations, infact Jago has to point out to him that it was unlikely this was a senseless act of violence. Obviously, his legion are also an immediate main suspect and he cuts down their numbers significantly, with or without evidence. He can't bring himself to bring you back to his wretched home planet, nor does he want to leave you where you are. After days of your body decomposing he finally makes the decision to cremate you and spread your ashes where you will finally be free.

Sanguinius: An angel he may be but a Saint he is not. His wrath is immediate and scorching, were his legion not their to reign him in the thirst might have led him to kill hundreds. Sanguinius leads the charge to find your killer but he is noticeably absent minded. What good are his visions if they couldn't save you. He mourns openly, even knowing he must stay strong for his legion the urge to weep is ever present. Your funeral is obscenely decadent and yet he still consider it not enough. No where near enough for you.

Ferrus Manus: The first Iron Hand to make light of the situation gets executed by metal fists to the face. And the next one and the next after that. He cannot trust them for a minute to find your killer, he does it himself or with Fulgrims help. He knows what each of them are thinking and he loathes them for it. No Iron Hands may attend your funeral, but baselines and whatever friend you may have made from other legions are permitted. He almost doesn't attend himself but he must say goodbye to you. Ferrus lays you to rest deep in the ground of Medusa. If he had your body above ground he might never get anything done again.

Angron: Your relationship in his mind was unstable enough as is but now you are gone, dead and cold. The agony is unending, so is the blood that flows from his kills. He barely has the sense to guess who but he knows an outside force has killed you. He may hate his legion but they are useful idiots to round up and throw at a problem. He cannot attend your funeral and he knows this and it kills him but he trusts that those present will say goodbye to you on his behalf.

Roboute Guilliman: He has not felt such grief for a baseline since his mother passed. It is a different grief than he is used to, he knew it was an inevitability yet he took that risk and he is paying the price for it. It agonises him but he must inflict a slow, creeping death to your killer. Spilling blood isn't enough, whatever false dynasty they have shall rot to it's core and topple under his orders. He shall destroy every aspect of their and their families pathetic lives and it will not be sufficient retribution. Your funeral is honourable, as though a soldier or politician has died. He visits your grave often and speaks to you. The chair he kept for you in his office is never removed and he speaks to that too.

Mortarion: You promised you would not leave him, you promised. All he has known is grief and loss and he is frighteningly angered that you have been included in that. He advances his legion under false pretenses, no one must know why he is declaring this house a traitor and no one will ever know. Your funeral is private and minimal. There's no where on Barbarus your body wouldn't corrode in mere years so instead he keeps you preserved, with him on his ship at all times. It's one way of keeping your promise.

Magnus: All the arcane knowledge in the universe couldn't enlighten him to the elusive workings of a human feeling challenged. Your death was senseless, you were a simple baseline caught in the cross hairs. Quick work is made of your assassins their employers but it means nothing to him. He must bring you back, he will bring you back. Your body is preserved and enhanced because you are coming back.

Horus Lupercal: Warmaster, what a terrible joke it seemed now. He could not protect you alone, how was he to defend the Empire. He had a million men to deploy to avenge you but it was pointless. Sacrificing a million wouldn't bring you back but if it could he'd do it without question. Crafting you a lavish funeral befitting a Primarch could not fill the emptiness in his heart as he realised he was once again alone.

Lorgar Aurelian: Word Bearers and their Primarch are not known for their brutality but your death illicits a cold and violent efficency in them. Your funeral, however, is treated with the reverence of a Saint and nothing less is acceptable.

Vulkan: Grief isn't the word for it, his feeling is so primal and raw it cuts through the universally expansive warp without him knowing. All the protection and kindness in the world cannot teach humans to behave so he shall find them and do so personally. Your funeral is a Nocturne one but he has you buried on your home planet. It's the least he could do, if not for him you would still live.

Corvus Corax: Death comes to your killers from the shadows. Slow and drawn out, a mockery to remind them of how they ordered you be killed. Under different circumstances he may have taken your assassin under his wing but no, they must die by his hands. Cremation or casket, you will not leave his side even in death.

Alpharius & Omegon: To sneak in to Alpha legion territory and kill not just one of their own but their most treasured, they almost admired it. Almost. They could study their mind and its methods plenty after they had broken and extracted it from their wretched skull. They will make your killers wish they had been captured by the Drukhari instead. Alpharius and Omegon are the only one allowed to see you buried, they are the only ones you will ever need.

I LOVE U AGAIN ANON!!!!!! THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Reminder that Sylus was released with:

6 4 stars & 6 3 stars, while the OG3 had 18 of each

1 bond, while the OG3 had 2

1 anecdote, while the OG3 had 3

1 free companion, while the OG3 had 3

No photobooth background. He only just got it after 6 months

No full stellactrum, as opposed to the OG3. For the longest time, Sylus was missing yellow and red— now he has 2 yellow and 1 red. Of those, 1 yellow was a promise card, thus locked behind a paywall and now no longer available.

In total, as of right now, Sylus has 34 cards, meaning that he still, after half a year, has less cards than the OG3 had upon release (41). Bear in mind that a number of these 34 cards were limited and thus no longer obtainable, while another portion of them are only obtainable through the Silver/Radiant Galaxy. So for new & F2p players, unless they are very lucky, they'll have to make due with the 17 standard cards available. Which makes real progress impossible. Sylus is not only P2W but basically P2P. If you missed out on his limited 5 stars and especially his second myth? You're fucked. B/c he still doesn't have his green 4 star solar pair.

The discrepancy in number of memories compared to the other LIs also means that the likelihood of pulling Sylus cards is drastically lower than the others — ~11-12% VS ~30% according to calculations made by a number of different players both on the CN and global side.

Presumably because of his puny amount of cards, Sylus' orbits are locked at level 80. That means that he has 70 less floors than the OG3. This, paired with his low number of cards, means that raising affinity becomes extremely difficult after a certain point, especially if you can't afford to spend a lot of money.

In addition, Sylus girlies need to spend twice the amount of stamina as other girlies in order to level up cards. Why? Because, in contrast to the OG3, he does not have a Bounty Boss dedicated to his prime Stellas (in his case Pink and Green). This means that we have to fight both Snoozer and Lemonette if we want to level up the majority of his cards.

Sylus girlies have been reaching out to customer service for months about these issues, and have either been given nothingburger replies or been totally ignored. There have been exactly 0 meaningful communication on Paperfold's side. No one is asking them to give us what we're missing tomorrow, but we are asking for some confirmation that our valid concerns are being heard and that the issue will be rectified. But so far... nothing. All that the CN girlies have received as of yet are attempted gaslighting and subtle threats. Is this how you treat any — much less your objectively highest paying — consumers?

I hope everyone can see how blatantly unfair all of this is, and understand why such a large number of us are angry and upset. We have been called greedy and ungrateful, but tell me, how is asking for fairness, for the bare minimum, greedy or ungrateful? We have never asked for special treatment, only equal treatment. The argument that all of this discrepancy in basic content is due to Sylus being "new" has never been and will never be valid.

To end this post on a somewhat hopeful note, the current boycott by the CN Sylus girlies have resulted in a significant drop in daily revenue. One can only hope that this will finally make Paperfold listen and rectify this mess, or at least communicate with their consumers,

Let me remind you that while this issue currently only affects Sylus mains, it will eventually come to affect all of us. B/c if they can get away with this behaviour with one character, then I guarantee you that the other LIs will be next. In fact, from the look of things, Caleb will receive the same treatment.

If you as a global player wish to help do something about all of this, I'd highly recommend writing an email to the company (loveanddeepspace-en@infoldgames.com). Additionally, there is talk of organizing a petition in support of the CN girlies, the link to which I will post on my blog, should it become a reality. While it might be true that global players unfortunately hold little sway, doing something is still better than doing nothing.

If you're curious to learn more, please refer to my pinned post for links and additional info on the situation.

Finally, if you've read all of this, thank you 🙏 I appreciate you for taking the time.

[loresung]

There are only six (6) decapitations in the Iliad, with Diomedes' decapitation of Dolon being one of the most egregious.

It is not within the heat of battle as every other instance was. It happens during an isolated conversation in the dead of night, on a still battlefield. Diomedes' decision is not in keeping with the implied (likely misleading, but possibly true) notion that Dolon could ransom his life from Odysseus.

At the moment of his death, Dolon is attempting to supplicate for his life before Diomedes, and Diomedes decapitates him without pause. Even Achilles, in the height of his rage against the Trojans because of his grief for Patroclus, did not behead Lycaon after he unsuccessfully pleaded for his life. Diomedes does not have a deeply personal reason for this beheading, and it can be read as an independent choice that Diomedes makes since Diomedes claims that Dolon's life is in his hands not Odysseus', despite the majority of the dealing being with Odysseus.

And then we see that Odysseus immediately, loudly gifts the spoils to Athena, rather than allow Diomedes to claim them. It seems more standard operating procedure to let the suppliant live, to let them ransom themselves or to sell them into slavery. What Diomedes has done is borderline blasphemous, and that is something Odysseus seems to rectify by gifting the spoils to Athena.

[superbat-lmao]

Bruce shows up at the Kent farm because he wants Martha’s blessing to marry her son.

It’s an outdated custom, but Clark is sentimental about the oddest things, so Bruce resigns himself to it.

He made sure to show up in some of his most relaxed clothes and brought some of Alfred’s cooking. To anyone else he would appear to be any random passerby, which was the objective. Ma Kent expressed a distinct distaste for Bruce’s masks, either as Brucie or Batman.

It was difficult to hide his nerves.

He hoped by following all of her past critiques of him he would pass muster. You aren’t at a board meeting, million dollar suits have no place in a pig pen, or, You must bring that butler of yours with you, I would love to trade recipes.

When Martha eventually opened the door she smiled easily until she really took in his appearance.

“Bruce! What’s happened? Are you alright? Where’s Clark?”

Caught off guard, Bruce blinks.

“No Mrs. Kent, it’s just me. I had something I wanted to discuss with you-”

“Dressed like that? And what have you got there?”

“Alfred sent it with me. Everything’s alright, I just wanted to abide by your suggestions.”

He bears her scrutiny for 37 seconds before being ushered inside. He cannot stop himself from going over his actions and the best course for rectifying them. He is unaware of what would be a cause for such concern.

She fusses over him and Alfred’s dish until he is sat at her kitchen table, empty handed.

“So, Bruce, honey, what was it you wanted to talk about? Must be important if it got you to fly all the way out here by yourself. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you, but you boys are a rare sight indeed these days.”

Without appearing obvious, Bruce tries to brace himself for a moment. The words are difficult for him to say, and Martha’s kindness has always been hard to bear the full brunt of.

“I had hoped to discuss something with you.”

There is no exasperated sigh, but he does see her patience at his silence as he tries to string together what he’d like to say.

“I would like to ask for your blessing.”

Martha’s eyebrows pinch together for less than a second before her face slackens in surprise. Bruce does his best not to fidget, or indeed move a muscle.

“My blessing.”

“Yes.”

“In marriage.”

“Yes.”

“To Clark.”

“Yes.”

Martha sits down on the chair across from him, keeping a hand on its armrest to steady herself.

“Goodness.”

Martha turns almost mechanically to face him. He still hasn’t moved.

“You haven’t discussed this with him?”

“Two years ago we discussed the institution of marriage and its surrounding customs as part of a mission involving marital law.”

“But you haven’t discussed the possibility of you two getting married on Earth?”

“No.”

Martha holds the fabric of the table cloth between her thumb and forefinger, pressing it against itself to make slow circles.

“Why do you think you need my blessing?”

There is a distinct pause as Bruce thinks this over.

“Clark values your opinion as well as Earth’s customs. It is not exactly standard practice, nor a custom rooted in a particularly ethical social mores, but it is one I think he would see sentimental value in. If I have overstepped-”

Martha is kind enough to cut him off.

“No, no, no. It’s just. You’ve really surprised me is all.”

“I will, of course, submit to any questions or trials you require to illustrate my sincerity.”

Her forehead wrinkles as her eyebrows race toward her hairline. It’s a look Clark has made after some of Bruce’s more severe injuries when he had suggested returning to patrol. It is endearing to see where he gets it from.

“Trials.”

“Any requirements or standards that I must meet.”

“Ah.”

They lapse back into silence for 3 minutes and 12 seconds before Martha sighs gently. A cold feeling passes through Bruce at the realization he has somehow already failed.

“I’m so sorry honey. This is just such a surprise. I think I have a couple of questions for you, but I had just never considered anyone would be asking for my blessing. Being a Mother of the groom doesn’t usually have that in the job description. Is there a reason you picked Earth customs instead of Kryptonian ones? Clark says you’ve spent an awful lot of time in that ship of his.”

“Kryptonian marriage customs do not place emphasis on courting rituals, only the ceremony itself. I had planned to ask Clark if he wanted us to follow them or incorporate them into Earth’s customs or even forgo customs altogether, but that’s only a consideration if he accepts. As it stands, I would estimate there are two aspects of Kryptonian marriage customs he would likely incorporate and a majority he would be disinclined to, given his current frequency of preference for Earth customs. Although I have prepared everything in case he does wish to follow Kryptonian customs.”

“Prepared everything?”

“I would have to substitute the Hall of Justice for the Palace of Marriage, but I have done my best to acquire a jewel from Diana that could stand in for the Jewel of Truth and Honor. I have also acquired rings or bands to the specifications of custom, depending on his preference, and commissioned the parental statues.”

“Parental statues-?”

“However, I estimate that Clark would choose that option if Superman got married. I believe his original preference would be to have a ceremony here. Though if he agreed to a ceremony with media presence, it would likely be at the manor. I do think he may find three separate weddings to be excessive, but if he did want more I would be willing to-”

“Bruce!”

He paused, looking up from the checkered pattern of the tablecloth to see Martha smiling, faintly. The cold feeling had spread while he was talking and he tried to push it away.

“Honey, I think I’ve done a poor job of this. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a shock, you showing up here dressed like you work in town, with a home cooked meal and detailed wedding plans, but you must forgive me. I feel my age catching up to me sometimes and it can take a minute for my brain to catch up with you youngsters.”

She rubbed at her eyes for a moment before continuing.

“Lord knows that Clark was always an idealist, he was a happy child who loved so much. I used to quite literally have to ask him to come down from the clouds.”

“I don’t think I have ever met another person as grounded as you are. Literally, Clark has told me stories about that cave of yours. All that to say, in my own marriage, Jonathan and I tried to strike a balance.”

She paused, looking out the window in the kitchen for a moment.

“I think the both of you have polar opposite approaches to the same thing. That your practicality balances out his optimism. And that he is a counterbalance to your cynicism.”

“I am so proud of the both of you boys. To have found each other and support each other. That boy loves absolutely, and while I can’t speak for him, I would support him in whatever decision he would make.”

“But I have also come to know you and your children. I see your dedication and commitment to everything you put your mind to. Family is important to you, and I am glad my son has met someone who loves as fiercely as he does, even if it looks a little different on the outside.”

Martha’s hand reaches across the table and folds neatly over his own. Bruce finds it’s the easiest thing in the world to match her smile.

“Of course you have my blessing. I’m sorry if I made you think you didn’t. It’s just that “bat-preparedness” as Kon puts it, is a bit beyond my speed. I’m so glad you came by. I’d be delighted if you stuck around for a while to really explain to me what some of those ceremonies entail, but then I don’t know how much time you set aside today.”

The cold feeling had morphed into a warm sort of liquid, like Alfred’s hot chocolate. Slowly, Bruce relaxed his muscles and posture to be more at ease.

“Thank you. I would love to stay. My schedule is free for the next few days actually. I had been planning to ask if you wanted anything done around the place, or for me to take a look at that tractor again. Jon mentioned you were having trouble with it and I know none of my boys have been by in a few weeks or I’d have asked them to take a look.”

Martha leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Bruce’s temple, effectively stunning him for a moment. She laughed at the look on his face.

“Oh you sap, you better get used to it. Come on, you’ll have to show me how you’re setting that thing to rights each time.”

As they got up and made their way towards the tractor, Martha asked one final question.

“I’m surprised Clark didn’t stop by halfway through your explanations. He told me he showed up once during one of your patrols unannounced because your heartbeat suddenly picked up. Lois made fun of him for weeks. How did you know he wouldn’t be listening?”

Bruce smiled slightly as he rolled up his sleeves to take a look at the well worn machinery.

“Easy. I’m on light duty for the next two weeks and the rest of the League got called on a mission for the Lantern Corps. He won’t be anywhere near this solar system for at least four more days. Perfect opportunity to stop by.”

Martha snorted beside him as he pointed out the different systems. She was warm and solid next to him, something that made him smile and think distinctly of family.

Bonus Below the Cut: Kryptonian Marriage Customs from Google.

[igotanidea]

Bound by business: Jason Todd x reader

Summary: Jason x information dealer reader. He only came for the info, but one thing led to another, a bit of whiskey and some teasing and - .... And she's a self made gotham.boss bitch falling for no one...

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!, dirty talk, p in v, teasing, angst

A/N : Been a while since I wrote smut and a story this long. Let me down gently. XD

***

It was dark and the rain was heavy, doing nothing to hide Jason’s irritation as he speeded on his motorcycle to the bad side of Gotham if there was any good side of Gotham in the first place.

Once having reached his destination, he took his helmet off letting rain wet his ruffled hair and started banging on the door.

His contact in the criminal world had been hard lately and he had no idea why, but the reasons behind the sudden change in the attitude were far from his interest.

HE and Y/N had a long history, went way back to the times when he was Robin and she was a good girl, both memories seeming like a fucking grotesque now.

“Y/N! Open the fuck up!”

“The hell Jason?!”

The door opened but she made no move to invite him inside despite the downpour on the outside. Instead she settled on watching him shake the water off like a dog, deriving some sadistic pleasure from the fact he could barely see with his hair stuck to his forehead and falling into his eyes.  

“The gun shipment. Tonight. I need details. Time, place, figures involved.

“Well hello to you too, Jason. I’ve been fine thanks for asking.” She scoffed and then smirked.

“I don’t have time for this shit-“

“Right, right, of course. I probably should thank you for not putting a gun to my head right away, right?”

“That is to be rectified at any moment now.” He reached towards his holster.

“Don’t be stupid, Jason. You know you only get this far with things because of me. You don’t want to lose an ally, do you?”

“You’re just an information dealer. Plenty of those in Gotham.”

“Mhm. Sure. And how many of them are as skilled as I am?”

He scoffed, pushing right past her, casually shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the couch.

“Yeah by all means, ruin my furniture. Drink?” she asked, heading towards the cabinet

“Whiskey. Neat.”

“Wow, someone finally developed some standards. What gives?”

Jason scoffed again.

“Standards, my ass. It’s at your expense so why would I hold back?”

“I might hold you accountable to that in the future. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

The glasses clinked and for a moment they both sipped their drinks in silence which gave Jason a second to actually look at her. She was a badass, that was what he knew. But every time he came around to her place, which was not really happening that often, she was almost innocent. Ironically. No make up, comfy clothes, just hoodie and yoga pants. He had seen women try harder to look I-woke-up-like-this.

Y/N was just being comfortable. 

“What’s with the look Jace?” she smirked from under the rim of her glass, her eyes piercing into him.

“I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“About why you are suddenly not giving me shit.”

“It’s been a long day if you must know. Long and hard day. My shit giving attitude and my humor might be a little off. ”

“Huh!” he huffed dismissively “hard day? You want to hear about a hard day? The one involving guns and fights? And being stabbed with a knife? Twice?“

“We all have our own definition of a hard day, you fool. You deal with bullets, I deal with people.”

“So you’re basically saying that people are worse than guns? Seriously? Damn, girl you got some audacity there.” He half-laughed, taking another sip of the whiskey and swirling the beverage “so, spill. Which one of your usual charming assholes got under your skin?”

“Luckily someone I do not have any respect for.”

“You have respect for no one, sunshine. But please, do tell. Did you kick him in the groin or punched him in the face?”

“Something like that.” She smirked, clearly so full of herself.

“Please tell me you at least broke his nose.”

“I did no permanent damage, that's all I can say.”

“Meaning you did something painful, but not crippling.” He nodded. He was actually learning to use the same method. Putting a gun to people's heads and shooting them dead was not very useful while searching for info. But then again, he had Y/N for that latter purpose. “Black eye? Twisted arm?”

“I thought you came here about the gun shipment info?” she finally sat on the couch and turned to face him with a hint of tease in her eyes.

“I did. But should it stop me from having a little polite conversation with my favorite partner in crime?” Jason leaned back on the coach with a sly smile

“Mh! I call bullshit.”

“How’s your hand doing?”

The question took her by surprise. Right, the hand, of course he knew about it. She got injured during one of her quests last week and has been dealing with the consequences ever since.

“I’m handling.”

“Uh!” Jason raised his hand stopping her in the middle of the sentence “Let me translate: it hurts like hell but you won’t admit it.” Y/N would never confront her pain – neither physical nor emotional. And yes, he was doing the same but it was easier to notice it in someone else than in himself. “So, given the state of that limb you must have got to that asshole pretty hard. Good job, I’ll give you that. It’s not every day I get to hear about your violent tendencies….” He chuckled and sipped the last of his drink, putting the glass back on the table, his eyes fixed on hers with a mischief in them.

“Oh you know damn well about my violent tendencies…”

“Damn right I do. And don’t I just love every fucking one of them…” his voice dropped an octave as he leaned forward, never dropping the gaze.  “Nothing sexier than a woman who can handle herself…”

“Oh yeah?” she allowed him the sudden closeness, clearly enjoying the blooming game “never took you for a guy who loved being manhandled..”

“Oh I am not. But I’m a sucker for watching someone deserving of it experiencing that treatment.” Jason's gaze moved down her body appreciatively, lingering on the swell of her breast under the hoodie and the curve of her hips accentuated by that stupid leggings. He knew she had curves under all those clothes. “It’s a fucking turn on.” He added in a husky tone. 

“Is it now…?” she hummed moving a little closer on the couch, her own drink landing on the table as well as she placed palms on his thighs, using it to lean even more forwards, leaving less than an inch between their faces.

“Fuck yeah it is…” his breath caught in his throat a little at the unexpected but not unwelcomed touch. “Seeing you lay someone down with those gorgeous hands of yours….” He licked his lips.

“Mhm… keep talking…” Y/N switched positions, now sitting on his lap, straddling him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and he instinctively grabbed onto her hips.  Gods, he was a man and suddenly realized how long it’s been since he had a one night stand, too busy with work.

But this?

This was getting dangerous and deep down he knew that once started, wouldn’t end up easily.

This was not going to be just scratching an itch like it usually was. This would hurt a lot and mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea.

But he couldn’t stop, the primal part of his brain already awakened by the closeness of her body, her almost gentle caresses and the soft, sweet yet seductive tone he had never heard before but she had mastered to perfection.

“I said…” she leaned to his ear “keep talking…”

“Fucks…” he groaned staring at her with undisguised lust “the though of you getting dirty… rough….”

“Uh-huh…” she hummed and started grinding on him. Slowly, almost torturously, causing Jason to take a sharp inhale of breath, but quickly composing himself.

“You always fight like that, princess?” his hands wandered from her hips to her ass, squeezing the ample flesh, pulling her closer to the bulge in his pants.

“Only for the special ones.”

 “Special ones, huh?” he held her hips tighter guiding her movements “Like when you want to prove a point? Or-“

“Or. Definitely or.”

She threw her head back, exposing her neck, giving him not-so-subtle hints.

“Or when you want to send a message?” he willingly moved his lips down her skin, sucking on the pulse points, earning a little, delicious moan and hand tangling in his hair. “A message that you’re taken?”

“Am I taken? Can’t remember…” she pulled back, taking off her hoodie and discarding her bra.

“Fuck yeah, you’re taken.” His lips moved lower, kissing her collarbone and cleavage.

“Good to know…” she made a quick movement to pull and toss his shirt somewhere in the room intensifying her movements on his ever growing tent “I think the gun shipment changed the location…”

“You fucking tease.” Jason hissed, changing the positions so she was trapped beneath his body. “Eight inches. Semi-automatic. Brand new and ready for action.”

“Well don’t I love being at a gunpoint…” her hand found a way to his groin, starting to palm the bulge, enjoying the way she seemed to still be in control, even with him on top.

“Oh yeah? A gun to your head?” he groaned, barely controlling himself.

“Maybe not to my head…”

Y/N wriggled on the bed, rolling on her belly for a moment to reach for the condom in the nightstand and that moment was enough for Jason to get hypnotized by that bounding piece of ass.

“I really hope the biggest size will fit you—”

“Fuck, I’ll stuff you so full you won’t walk for a week.”

He pushed her legs open with his knee, doing a quick job of rolling the latex on his length, teasing her clit with a few featherlight touches, loving how she seemed to beg for more with every squirm and entered her in one deep thrust.

“Big enough for you?” he bit her earlobe licking the shell right after, his voice low.  

“I – mmm… shit…”

“Have you ever had this big?” The thrusts were long and hard and deliciously painful at first before turning into a series of perfectly aimed and ideally paced movements that made her gasp from pleasure. “Answer the question, princess.”

“I – ah! Ah, shit!” nails of the right hand dug into the mattress hard enough to make holes, the other hand reaching for the pillow, quickly pressing it between her head and the headboard to prevent the potential concussion. He was not a semi-automatic gun machine. More like a rifle, never shooting blanks. Thank fucks, she was prepared in many ways and started taking pills a few weeks prior. Not that it was her plan or anything. 

“What was that?” he rocked faster and harder, pulling all the way back only to slam right back inside. “Too much for you, slut?”

“Make me come! Make me fucking come to give me incentive to answer that stupid question!”

“Seems to me like I’m fucking your brains out. Is that right, pretty? Am I fucking you stupid?”

“Fuck!”

“Yeah… you’re so fucked, baby.” He was now hitting her cervix with such a speed and strength as if his life was depending on it. “Fucked by no. One. Else. But. The. Red. Hood.“ Each word was punctuated by a deep movement and if someone asked she would swear it was reaching her stomach. Or maybe she just ate something bad.

“It’s an – ohhh! – oh shit!” she gasped, unable to finish the sentence for a moment. “It’s an honor for you to have me like this….” There was no way she was going to let him win and really fuck her stupid.

“Oh I know… But no one else is big and strong enough for you” he circled her clit, bending head to suck her nipple, leaving a wet trail from one breast to another “now, come for me… come baby…”

She bit her lips so hard that a blood appeared on the bottom one, quickly licking it off, turning Jason wild. He was a sucker for blood. Not only the shooting kind, clearly.

“Yeah…. Yeah…oh! Oh!”

She could feel his pace faltering a little as he was so close to his own climax.

And used it against him, hitting right into the momentum, somehow managing to end up on top of him again, hands on his chest, breasts bouncing, ass slapping on his cock as she rocked up and down, still in control.

“Fuck! Y/n!”

“Yeah, yeah that’s right, moan my name as you come Jason Todd. Red Hood. Whatever. Scream my name.”

“You- where did you learn how to take cock like that—”

“You wouldn’t like the answer. Now come on!” It was immensely hard to keep herself from diving into the sea of release but she knew how to get what she wanted. Years of effing experience in this fucked up place.  

His hands were on her ass, squeezing mercilessly, almost to the point of pain as he finally reached the stars.

Only then she allowed herself to let go as well. Winning, yet again, falling on top of him like a marathon runner who scored a gold medal even if there were truly no losers in this game of love. At least not in terms of the body.

“Damn… you’re heavy…” he hissed, wrapping arms around her, trapping her on top of him, nuzzling nose into her hair. She was right with him, next to him, so warm and soft and tender, making him feel so good, so nice, so liberated.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy my fat ass bouncing on you.”

“Too tired to even try to pretend.” He whispered, trying to kiss her softly, but much to his surprise, she rolled off him, swiftly avoiding his grip, grabbed the hoodie from the floor and stood up fixing her hair, letting it fall down her back like a h/c waterfall.

“Well this was nice.” Her tone was flat, unamused and the warmth in his chest turned into icy cold right away.

“Wait… what? But-“

“I’m gonna go piss now. Can’t risk any STIs. Those hurt like hell, not to mention it’s kind of embarrassing explaining to my Ob-gyn why I wasn’t careful again. I swear one more time and she’ll drop me as a patient.”

Was this a joke to her!?

“But-“ he stuttered looking at her with wide eyes. This was not what he expected at all and there were like a million questions in his head.  “Y/n-“

“I’ll be right back, but hey – hygiene right? You should get yourself cleaned too” she grabbed the towel from the rack and threw it on him, effectively flattening his still semi-hard cock and his appetite and energy for another round.

“But –“

“This is serious shit Jason! Gotta stay healthy if we’re to repeat it.”

She winked suggestively, rushing to the bathroom, leaving a little crack in the door, so he could faintly hear her peeing.

What was wrong with this girl!?

This must have been just some stupid nightmare, a product of his tired, messed up, beaten brain--

“So. You wanted to talk about something?” she was back about a minute later. “hey, you still didn’t clean up?”

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?” she touched her right buttock and hissed at the contact with a scratch his hands left on the skin.

“This no-nonsense attitude!”

“What else do you want me to do?” she tilted her head, looking at him quizzically

 “Oh I don’t know!” he finally lost his patience, feeling too vulnerable and too emotional for his own liking, feeling the compelling need to cover himself. Both physically and emotionally. “Normally people like to – oh, I don’t know – talk after sex? Maybe cuddle a little? But you’re just like oh, hey, it was a nice fuck, thanks for letting me use you, dressing and washing up like a freaking germophobe!” he got tangled in his pants, hardly preventing himself from tripping which would be even more condescending.

“Jason-“

“I’m being serious here Y/N!”

‘You called me slut.” She deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

‘I called you – ok, fine! Fine I called you slut. Is that why you’re suddenly icing me out?”

“No.”

“No!? That’s it? That’s all you got? I can’t fucking believe it!” he punched the wall leaving a little dent, but the broken pride clearly did not affect Y/N.

“Could you please calm down and stop depriving me of my deposit on this place? I’d appreciate it.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable!”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so emotional about it Jason.” It might have been a mirage but from Jason’s perspective it looked like Y/N literally rolled her eyes!

“We had sex!”

“Yes? and?” She hesitated giving him a chance to explain further but he was just standing there with eyes wide and mouth open. “Oh come on, this was just an itch, right? We’re bound by business, not pleasure. You don’t mix two explosives like us. It’s just unwise. We’re both adults, sex is not always about deeper feelings-”

She was still talking but he could hardly hear anything with the way blood was humming in his ears, successfully blocking any other bullshit coming out of her mouth (thankfully for Jason though).

Bound by business.

Mixing explosives.

Unwise.

Unwise!

Fucking unwise!?

“Jason?” she smiled softly, as if nothing happened, bending down and searching his eyes. “That gun shipment of yours? It happens in an hour at the docks and everything is orchestrated by Black Mask. I would take some backup if I were you, it might get ugly.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Without any further words he walked outside, feeling defeated like never before and the nail to the coffin was the sound of the door being locked right after him.

He should have known better that a girl who climbed this high in the criminal underworld would be fucked up in some way.

But how can one prepare for the reality of the broken heart?

Back up his ass. He was about to turn his newly found pain into rage and kill each and every one of Sionis’ men himself.

The moon was about to turn bloody that night….

And the worst part?

She was still his information dealer. The best in Gotham, regardless of what he might have said before.

And he was still going to work with her.

Do you know that warning : don’t drink and drive or better : don’t drink and text?

Yep.

Another one should be the warning of developing feelings for your literal partner in crime. 

@lettucel0ver @oohyasumi @apple---cider---vinegar

[mspopstar]

what are the casts political beliefs?

K: "Politics? I don't really care about that..."

MK: "While others find distasteful, I for one support dictatorships and heavy militarist control, stricter, harsher, inter-planetary border control like the policies on Mecheye with an emphasis on foreign inter-planetary trade and market. Tell me, what are societies greatest issues? I believe it is because people are freely allowed to do things they shouldn't. Power and freedom is given and spread freely to those who don't use it or kept in those who don't do anything with it. It is disgusting, it is useless, and so very lazy. If all power was concentrated to one individual, an individual that is intelligent, strong, commanding, and fierce. An individual allowed to make all of the laws and beliefs every citizen must follow without any hesitation or disobedience, then everyone would be well protected and flourish! A lot of people, ignorant people, claim that such rulings are corrupt. HAH! Let me ask you this, how can it be corrupt if the man in charge isn't corrupt and has only the best interest in mind?"

DDD: "Anythin' that supports me! Monarchies for the win baybeee! Though, while runnin' a single man monarchy I still rely a lot on my cabinet of Waddle Councils and their waddlepolitics and social rules... Keeps things easier run. I still get that final say on anythin' though!"

BWD: "Anything that supports the Great King and his policies, of course! But, ah, it is good to have Waddle Dees who provide decent checks and balances too... I don't have any strong social policies other than maybe we should invest more into interplanetary communication, identification and protection! That way not just anyone can waltz into Dream Land consequence free! And, don't get me wrong, the Great King is great and so are all of his choices and decrees but there should be more financial and educational incentives for farmers and carpenters, more of our budget should go into the Waddle Dee army! We should have less spending going into...uhm... th-the Great King's personal projects!"

MAG: "The less governmental powers meddle in corporate affairs the better! Why do I have to report every little thing I do? Especially when you have sniveling pencil-pushing officials ready to report you for the tiniest of things!"

SU: "AI backed corporatocracy with a focus on quality of life advancement for organisms, economic growth and efficiency, and most importantly, technological advancement and breakthroughs! Can't have political, societal, and environmental, economical, errors if there are all calculated to null! Socially, I guess I support free bodily and transhumanistic autonomy! Oh, and instant death penalty for all savage evil-doers, that way there would absolutely be no crimes at all!"

TA: "I believe all higher powers that lord over commonfolk should only be passed down through a pure royal bloodline. All politics should be controlled and concentrated through these bloodlines. It is such that standards, rules, tradition, and more are upheld. Yes, there may be hiccups, but they're always rectified with the newer generation. You just can't trust the lower dregs.... the commoner with such power, freedom or choice. It is quite boorish that so many wish for such a tradition to be overthrown! Though, what can you expect from the dirty, illiterate common trash, non?"