#and wrote it in one go

[youstolemyhead]

Disney: you can make your movie R-rated but their relationship can’t be explicitly gay

Ryan: oh don’t worry this is a totally platonic road trip buddy comedy

The movie: The poster says, “best friends come together”, there’s a meet cute ugly at a bar and Logan immediately assumes Wade is there to hook up with him (so does the bartender), Wade calls him honey badger, and angel baby, their road trip song is a rock ballad about being lonely and wanting to meet someone, the second act has the classic romcom miscommunication/fight, they’re having a heated fight to one of the most iconic love song duets ever, Wade says, “the Honda Odyssey fucks hard too bad you don’t” and Logan says, “oh we’re just getting started”, after that there’s a shot where car they're in is rocking back and forth for hours and then it cuts to them asleep the next morning, there’s a line about Wade having Logan’s dick in his mouth (spoken by Ryan’s daughter), there’s a scene where they’re looking at each other longingly through a window because they think Wade is about to die (even though Logan hated him yesterday), Wade is very clearly staring at Logan’s abs after his shirt explodes then makes him put on a shirt after he sees other people also looking, they save each others lives by holding hands to a Madonna song about blowjobs, Logan starts walking away until Wade calls after him and he stops like he’s about to turn around and run back and kiss him but the camera cuts off before he does, Wade introduces Logan to Al like a nervous teenager introducing his girlfriend to his mom, and the last shot is their masks sitting next to each other in their ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT

Disney: ok we have notes

Ryan: no.

The movie: *makes $1,000,000,000*

[poirott]

Columbo / Murder, She Wrote crossover (fanmade)

Lt. Columbo (Peter Falk) and Jessica Fletcher (Angela Lansbury) becoming besties and solving cases together ♥

[sunderwight]

What if the peak lords concluded that the most likely answer to the mystery of Shen Qingqiu's behavior is not that he's possessed now (because they checked and all the tests came out negative), but that he must have actually been possessed before?

No one thought to check him before, after all. They just figured he was an asshole. But then he suffers a qi deviation, almost dies, but comes back nicer. Only slightly lacking in context for his own past behavior and lifestyle, too.

It fits remarkably well, doesn't it? All this time the real Shen Qingqiu must have been trying to free himself from a demonic spirit that took possession of him in his youth! It was the demon who was the asshole, dragging his poor host to brothels, alienating his sect siblings so that they wouldn't investigate him too closely, abusing his disciples and probably weakening the sect from within as part of some nefarious plot!

But then the real Shen Qingqiu finally managed to beat back the demon himself, even being gracious enough not to point out what happened to his martial siblings and so save the sect's face. What a guy.

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

[lgbtlunaverse]

There's a version of the "don't go grocery shopping while hungry" rule specifically for writers where you should never under any circumstances be allowed to touch your draft within 3 hours of reading a really good story. Because sometimes when you read something great your head goes "fuck this is so much better than my stuff I should make that more like THIS instead!" Look at me. That's the devil talking and you should close the document NOW.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny: I did something I'm not proud of. Dan: Did you burn the ribs? Danny: No, Dan, the meal I promised you to get you here is fine. Dani: Did you forget the games? Danny: No, Dani, the board games I promised you, to get you here are in the same game room as last time. Jazz: Did you sell the hot tub? Danny: No, Jazz, the spa day I promised you to get you here will be happening tomarrow as scheduled. Dan: Then what you do? Danny: I got married this morning. Dani: You eloped!? Danny: The marriage was because of a cult Jazz: You're in a cult!? Danny: I'm Mr.Wayne now Dan: You didn't keep the family name! Danny: It wasn't my proudest moment, but a Phantom worshiping cult caught me in a summoning circle. They planned on sacrificing Bruce Wayne, a rich, beloved human they kidnapped, to use his death as a binding charm, forever enslaving me to them. I couldn't let him die, so I started a ghost marriage. Being married to me made the ritual invalid. Ten seconds after I finished my vows, Nightwing crashed through a window and set us free. It made the whole marriage pointless, and I ended up looking like an immortal idiot. Dan: Oh I forgot about that. Till this day I wasn't able to divorce him- Danny did you know we can't count as widows since we're partcially dead? Danny: YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN?! Dan: In defense, half of the world was destroyed at this point in my timeline, so I didn't think it would happen to you. My marriage to Bruce was entirely blown out of proportion. World leaders should have focused more on the menace tearing the world apart. Danny: YOU WERE THE MENACE. Dani: Wait does this mean Danny is sleeping with Dan's husband? Dan: *Gasp* It seems my greatest enemy was myself all along. Danny: There is no sleeping with anyone! Jazz: So, going back to the hot tub- will wine be provided or should I go get my own? Danny: I don't know what I bother hosting siblings night. Get out my house. Dan/Dani/Jazz: No. Danny: I hate you all.

[why-the-heck-not]

understanding academic concepts got me blushing swinging my legs giggling

[sforzesco]

paris of troy! during those years he was a shepherd.

I was reading cartledge's book on thebes and every now and then the spartan focuses wrt to the pantheon of gods comes up. sparta has nothing to do with this except for where it does, but apollo karneios was discussed and that got my attention, which circled back to paris, and then I started thinking about the paris + apollo link

I also started thinking about narrative rejections bc paris has a funky absence in the iliad that's giving a kind of...a vibe. your parents shouldn't have had you, the story doesn't want you around, but oh boy are you there anyway, manifested into existence. no matter what, doom must manifest in flesh form. it's a narrative necessity, the actual incident (the judgement) is secondary.

The Judgement of Paris in Later Byzantine Literature, E. M. Jeffreys

weird! love it! almost (but not quite) reminds me of troilos' murder at achilles' hands lurking in the guts of the iliad. it's there, even when it's not. more importantly tho: sheep. I miss working on a farm with sheep and goats and cows and--

[abyssyby]

I could imagine luke and kieran getting (chronic) cuteness aggression towards the little twins... But sylus though?

sylus absolutely has no fight. a goner. helpless and doomed to the cuteness of his babies. ❤️‍🩹

sylus & his family | sylus x reader | fluff, cuteness aggression, draconic traits & instincts coming out, some1 help him he might eat them (endearing, he wont!!!)

the little twins are friend shaped. they’re love shaped. they’re cute-cuddly-squishy.

everyone in the family can’t help but press their noses against their cheeks and squeeze their pudgy little arms until they get bapped away.

during infancy, when the babies were barely even two, they’d almost always waddle into the trap of someone’s arms, get engulfed and bombarded with kissies and sniffs.

“eugh, why do you smell so nice?” kieran would grumble, nose in a little lucian’s tousle of hair. “you just pooped.”

lucian blinks in confusion, reading the expression on kieran’s face. wondering why his brows were drawn tight, why his nostrils were flared and why his mouth was downturned. beyond his comprehension, he is once again sniffed. reduced to a piece of meat to a bloodhound, and kieran grumbles again.

“this is bad.” he frowns at his little addiction. baby powder, fresh milk, flowers and citrus. sniff, sniff, sniff. and a hint of heaven.

“does this count as a squeezy-squeeze?” wonders luke, his fingers gently pinching and stretching kyros’s cheeks. kyros, unbothered, flashes his charming four-toothed smile at him. luke is weak, immediately blowing raspberries in his little face. Eyes watery, no idea why he was so moved by a gurgle and an imperfect grin. the urge to protect, nurture and nuzzle flows through his veins and he does not know what to do with himself except cuddle the baby a little closer.

the big twins are powerless to them, but none of them compare to their father.

the infamous, looming, all-powerful, ever ominous, consuming, devouring monarch of Onychinus. whose simple shadow is enough to rule the entire N109 zone.

diminished, demolished and deprecated by two fat little infants in his arms.

sylus is a good bluffer. honed and practiced; his impulses are mere mosquitoes he swats away. until these two came along.

suddenly, he is a cat to a laser pointer. a moth to a flame. a helpless father pressing his clueless son’s cheek to his, cooing and awing at the mirror at the adorable sight.

he’ll deny it when you point it out, but when sylus is around the children, he turns just that little bit beast. his brain short circuits that tiny bit, his pupils melt into docile buttons and he is curling around his children like he would a hoard of gold.

on your shared bed would be a long, curled pillow, nesting the two for some tummy time with mama and papa. sylus would be an additional safe-guard— the length of his body curled around them, his arm outstretched for more reach as he crowds them close to his chest.

he loves their scent, and sort of “marks” them with his as well as he nuzzles their cheeks and their hair with his nose. peppering kisses all over their distressed little faces when he gets a little too much.

“mm’wah! m’wah!” echoes off the walls. the sound of crisp smooches glazed over jingling giggles— a song of record scratches and bells sung by a father and his sons.

“sy.” you’d warn gently when you hear a gasped squeak. he’d grumble, just short of a growl, then huff through his nose before starting again. this time gentler. the crying is soothed before it starts; the joyous symphony continues its melody.

it’s especially comical for you to watch him go through the motions of restraint when the littles do something novelly adorable.

“that’s… not fair.” sylus grins, fingers fidgeting as he watches kyros’s face stretch, his mouth forming a small oblong as he yawns. a happy chuckle rumbles his chest— both out of amusement and the shameless audacity of this little creature to be this cute. this little creature. his little creature.

“you can’t bite him.” you’d tell him. he rolls his eyes and tells you it’s a silly thing to think he’d do such a thing. but in the same instant, he turns and bites your arm instead.

“sylus!” you gasp.

he laughs, pure and endearing. “what? it wasn’t him.”

lucian is perpetually stuck to his chest. his single, large hand enough to be a makeshift baby carrier. lucian’s head protected at all times beneath the awning of his father’s chin. tucked preciously beneath his jaw which he tenses in restraint. his head is a broken record loop of he’s so cute he’s so cute he’s so cute and he can never find it in himself to just put him down.

“sweetie,” he says one day, voice raw and tender as he walks into your bedroom with a sleepy lucian. steam-bun cheeks like putty against his forearm.

you rise, thinking he’d want you to take the baby, but instead he turns. movement so minuscule you almost miss it; it was just a shift of weight, a half inch to the right, but visibly away from your reaching arms. your brows raise at the growl that emits in his chest. “sylus?”

he blinks, snapping back into now. “i’m sorry. no, that wasn’t for you.”

concern tinges your beautiful features and his heartstrings twist and tangle even more. you frown, “are you alright, my love?”

stressed, he exhales through his nose. a powerless slump in his shoulders as he nods towards his little treasure. “he’s… impossibly adorable.”

the concern grows, but your lips curl into a smirk. teasing, assuming it is a compliment, you say, “thank you?”

but he’s serious.

“yes— thank you.” he’s sweeping you up by the waist with his other arm, guiding you into bed to lay beside him and your child on his belly. his lips find purchase on your cheeks, your brow and then your lips. he repeats, words dear and true, “thank you.”

because without you, then none of this would be his. the cuddles, squishes, hugs and kisses. he is still in disbelief that he gets to have this, still in disbelief that they are his and he can. that he can shower them in affection, embrace them in his arms, bathe them with all the attention and love they deserve. and that is all because of you.

you curl up to him, lean your head on his shoulder as he pokes at lucian’s cheek. you both watch it dip and bounce back up like pudding and you get it. overwhelmed, maybe by instincts— maternal or draconic as well, you don’t know— but now you want to bite him too.

“hey.” sylus chuckles when he feels the sting of your teeth sinking into his shoulder.

“sorry.” you blush, brows knit together in a sheepish doe-eyed look. “it wasn’t him.”

his troubled heart melts at the sight of you. he laughs, a feat of strength not to do so too much as to not jostle the slumbering angel on him. it is clear to him now, who the twins got it from.

forgiveness comes in the form of a pinch to your cheek and a kiss— because if he can’t eat them, he will eat you.

he’ll look forward to the day when the twins will bite him back. he’ll allow them as much noms and nibbles as they desire. but now, papa is simply getting a head start.

[lichanicksstuff]

Professor Gadling always knows which student wrote their paper and which one used chat GPT. Nobody knows how he does it. No paraphrasing program can dupe him. He can always tell. Every one of his colleagues is amazed by this skill, they always ask for his help judging if the essay was written by an AI or a person. And he does that with a wide smile on his face.

It's really easy. All it takes is to give his old friend a good cup of tea and a red pen to mark the ones that were not written by a human hand. "The imitations don't have souls," his friend says. And this is what he tells his students. They never understand and Hob finds it very funny.

[neptunezo]

The idea of the batkids scaring Bruce with “a new grandchild” to only show an animal is so funny to me, because imagine Bruce is so used to it that when Jason wants to introduce him to his new grandchild Bruce almost falls out of his chair when there’s an ACTUAL KID!

Dick: You’re a granddaddy now Brucie!!!

Bruce: WHAT?!? Who?? When??? How??? Actually don’t tell me how. Who is she??? When did she give birth???

Dick: What? No, meet my kid *holds up a cat* her name is biscuit and shes the love of my life!

—

Steph: Cass and I are adopting…

Bruce: Holy shit, actually???

Cass: Yes, it was a tough choice, but we want to adopt

Bruce: Do you need any help with paperwork and stuff? It’s kinda my thing. Also consider the fact that you might be too young.

Steph: Too young…?

Bruce: Yes, I mean you’re only in your 20’s, are you sure you can handle a kid?

Cass: Too young for an iguana?

—

Damian: It happened again, I have a kid.

Bruce: What do you mean AGAIN?!?

Damian: This is my second kid, duh

Bruce: Are you talking about goats?

Damian: Of course I am father

—

Tim: BRUCE YOU’RE GOING TO BE A GRANDFATHER!!!

Bruce: Tim I didn’t think I was going to have to tell you this again after the whole thing with Stephanie, but just kissing someone doesn’t get them pregnant

Tim:

Bruce: Is it a dog?

Tim: No it’s a tiger

—

Jason: I have something to tell you

Bruce(not looking up from his paperwork): Okay, what’s up?

Jason: I have a kid, I want you to meet your granddaughter

Bruce: I can’t possibly imagine what type of animal you’ve gotten, but I’d love to meet her

Jason: What the hell are you talking about?

Bruce (looking up to see an actual child): You actually have a kid????

Jason: Yeah, Roy and I thought it was time I adopted Lian

Lian: Hi Grandpa!!!

Bruce: I’m going to faint, grab me some ice will you?

[saltpepperbeard]

Edward Teach in the OFMD Season 2 Trailer [x]

[allpiesforourown]

Over the years I've seen a LOT of media attempt the "God is just just as hopeless as the rest of us" trope but no one has ever pulled it off like Scum Villain

[mythmagicetc]

eddie has to work a shift without buck and comes home to find buck in the kitchen, washing dishes. he lingers in the doorway for a moment, watching him, before buck feels his presence.

"hey, how was the shift?" he asks, turning just long enough to visually check over eddie's body for injuries.

"not bad," eddie says. the nape of buck's neck is beautiful.

buck lets the silence linger for a moment. "just not bad? nothing interesting? no freak accidents?"

humming noncommittally, eddie lets his gaze drift across buck's upper back. "hen referred to you as my wife."

buck's shoulders tense.

good. that's good.

when buck speaks, it's a touch too high, breathy, just slightly off. "because i'm home cleaning while you're at work? that's sexist. not that hen is sexist, i mean, it's just—"

"buck." eddie moves closer. "i don't think she was being sexist."

the ladle buck has been washing for two and a half minutes falls into the sink. he picks it up, shivering just a bit. "homophobic then, you think? because we're—well, no, because i'm—"

eddie's moving closer again, just a step behind him now. "no, not that either. i don't think she was being anything you might be about to accuse her of."

buck is shaking his head already, ladle and sponge abandoned. "well, she shouldn't have said that. it wasn't—it wasn't very nice."

eddie smiles softly. he steps up to buck's right side, draping his arm loosely around buck's hips, and feels buck shiver against him. "yeah? should i take that as a no, then?"

buck is standing very still. "eddie."

"hey, it's up to you." eddie tilts his head, trying to catch buck's eye. "if you'd rather wait until the IRS accuses us of tax fraud, that's fine by me. i'll wait."

buck finally looks at him. "you'll wait?" he asks, almost absently, like he understands the words but not the context.

"yeah, sweetheart," eddie murmurs. "i'll wait." he reaches for buck's left hand, raises it to his lips. "i mean, you could say yes, or i can just ask you again tomorrow." a kiss to the back of his hand. "and the next day." another to his knuckles. "and the next day." his ring finger. here, eddie lingers a bit.

when he looks back up at buck, eddie feels the prick of nerves. not that buck doesn't feel the same, but that this isn't the right time, or the right—anything. but buck is looking back at him with the fiercest hope and apprehension burning in his eyes.

"i love you" buck says, like a confession. "i'm in love with you."

eddie smiles. "i love you, too. but that wasn't the question. you don't get a say in that."

cheeks pink and eyelashes fluttering, buck says, "you still haven't asked me the question."

"i didn't? i definitely did."

"you didn't."

"come on, i absolutely—"

"eddie?"

"what?"

buck waits a beat, like he's savoring the moment. "marry me?"

eddie sighs, though his smile certainly ruins the effect. "i thought you'd never ask."

well, technically, buck never did say yes. eddie will just ask him again tomorrow.

[aivylz]

imagine him clinging desperately onto you in a drunken state, putting almost all of his weight onto you as you prayed to gods above to have the strength to carry him at least over to the couch in his place.

you have no idea how he got into this state, let alone be drinking alcohol rather than his usual tea. with two cubes of sugar, of course. but apparently, he must’ve mistaken the alcohol for tea. but that doesn’t matter right now. right now, the only thing that did matter was to let him rest.

here you are, taking care of him. you brought him some cold water, offering your help to let him drink. to which, he stubbornly declined at first but eventually drank two glasses of water just like you urged him to. he’s a good boy, right? before you could go and excuse yourself, his arms was already wrapped around yours as he pulled you onto the seat next to him, mumbling about things like ‘don’t go’ , ‘no, stay with me…’ jeez, when has he ever been this clingy?

you tried to talk to him that you’ll be back, bringing his toothbrush so you can at least make his teeth squeaky clean before letting him of doze off. wait, don’t go asleep yet! thankfully, he managed to push it through as his gaze was making the room spin. moaning and groaning about how he must’ve drank too much to count. for a guy like him, he should be more responsible!

as you went back to him, toothbrush in hand, you spoke to him as if he was a child teaching how to brush their teeth for the first time. he didn’t disturb you, of course, knowing that you were just trying to take care of him.

you offered to change him out of his clothes as well. he teased you about how you just wanted to see him naked, and to you being so done with his drunken bullshit but you just can’t help but laugh at how he still finds humor even if his head was ringing. yep, that’s your man alright.

you moved delicately in removing his clothes, folding them neatly as you threw over his arms a new set of more comfortable and clean clothes. he wasn’t forcing you to do all this, no. he just let you because you find joy in taking care of him, and he feels all so joyful and fuzzy inside knowing he’s being taken care of. seriously, for such a guy like him, you didn’t think he would be so happy when you treat him like he was a pouty and bratty child. still, you loved him regardless.

you brought him a blanket a pillow next, assuming that you can’t carry him to bed as he doesn’t have the willpower to stand up and walk normally until he was sober. he insisted that you should sleep next to him, his arms desperate attached to your wrist until you had to burst his bubble with, ‘no can do. the couch is too small for us!’

oh well, perhaps you can just… move the other couch next to him. it’s not everyday that you find him so vulnerable like this. maybe it’s a little psychotic to wish he was drunk more just so you can see this side of him more often. or maybe you just liked taking care of him. him <3.

; wriothesley, lighter, rafayel, phainon, caleb, marius + your faves .ᐟ

[dcxdpdabbles]

Jason: Alright, listen up. My name is Mr. Todd, and I'll be your new English teacher for the remainder of the year. I have simple expectations from you all: I assign you books, you read them, and then you write reports on them. If you stay on top of your classwork, I will make sure you succeed in my class. Any questions? Paulina: How old are you, Mr. Todd? Jason: Twenty-four. Star: You have an interesting accent. Where are you from? Jason: Gotham. Dash: What's your favorite sport? Jason: Boxing. Sam: Do you answer all questions in one word? Jason: Yes. Tucker: What happened to Mr. Lancer? Jason: Surgery. Jason: That's enough about me. Let's go over the syllabus for this class. Take one and pass the rest. I have all your assignments prepared, so if a few of you want to work ahead, that's fine. Most professors like that you do so in college, and I won't baby you. If you need extensions, let me know by email three days before. I hope you all like the Libary. We will be visiting it once a week. After Class: Danny: I have never paid so much attention in class and retrained nothing. Sam: How could you when the teacher looks like that. He walked in with a leather jacket and a white hairstreak. He's hot. Paulina: I can't believe I'm agreeing with the biggest dorks in school, but damn, Mr.Todd is gorgeous. I'm going to actually work in this class. Is that weird? Dash: Not weird at all. I'm thinking of cutting football practice to catch up on some reading. I don't want Mr.Todd to think I'm an idiot. He could show me some boxing moves. Wes: Are we all just going to ignore that the new English teacher is Red Hood? The CRIME LORD? Tucker: Not now, Wes, we're admiring the perfect man. Wes: You don't even like men! Tucker: Game recognizes game.