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I'll probably digitize it, but God knows when that will be

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Executive chef at a top Thai restaurant tells Gordon Ramsay that his Pad Thai is trash [x]

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people will design soap dispensers and dish racks and go like it's okay if this is capable of getting rusty, right. that's an acceptable weak point for an item whose sole immutable destiny is to get wet every time it's used, right

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AU where Tim Drake bonds with Damian by teaching how to best manipulate Bruce into doing what you want/getting what you want. Also, how to get away with doing things Bruce would not approve of.

Tim’s a little feral when the right people aren’t watching, which Damian learned real quick after he tried to snap Drake’s grapple line.

Now Rogues fear the nights when Robin and Red Robin Patrol together.

Tim can always be spotted hiding a smile behind his mug when he see’s Damian walking around with the newest member of his animal menagerie because Bruce just “couldn’t say no” to Damian when he pulled out patented and perfected puppy eyes (that he learned from Drake).

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Bruce is six years old when he promises Gotham that he will be her protector, if she will help him. He is too idealistic, too naive, too young to know what it means to make such an open-ended promise to a city like Gotham. Too like his parents. He means well, he means it truly, so young but already too aware of the need in her streets, the corruption, the pain, from murmured conversations by worried adults far over his head.

He promises. She accepts. But nothing comes for free in Gotham, especially not power. Her bargains are sealed in blood.

She takes his parents, a worthy sacrifice for the path carved out before him. She will be his guardian now—hard, demanding, exacting, the perfect teacher. She will be the shadows staining his steps.

He grows. He gives her everything he promised—his duty, his honor, his will, his might, his sweat, his blood. She gives him more. Two more bodies fall, blood in sand, and she gives him a son. A little light—a flash of anger, a spark of joy, the glow at the end of a long tunnel—to guide him onward and keep him moving forward, as he will guide others. Then another, swapped in payment for bloodied lips and scabbed needle marks, blood stopping cold and congealed. He loves them fiercely. He loves them too much?

She is life, so full of millions of flickering lives, but so she must also be death; with one so must go the other. She is a cat of a city, fanged, playful with a bite. She claws back the second gift, the second son. Not forever. It was never meant to be forever. Their deal was his parents, his blood sweat tears heart. But her other children have their own wants, though he is her first, her best, and she must let them have their indulgences. Life and death. Shadow and spotlight. Black and green. And that one had made promises of his own.

She borrows his boy and sends him another when he falters, almost falls. Shoves the twig of a boy under his arm like a crutch to keep him upright, allows for payment at a later date—a car crash, a sliced throat.

More come, and when they cross her borders, passage paid for by others, she delivers them to him. They are transplants, like the first, but they take root in her toxic soil like natives, sending out a rush of vines to climb her concrete. The girl knows Gotham, speaks her language with a fluency that rivals his; the boy is the blood of his blood, and she welcomes him as one of her own.

They change her, little by little, fight by fight, but not so much that the second son is out of step when he is returned, stained red by the blood of his own oath. Just borrowed, just transformed, returned to aid, to rival, to hack his own path. How they choose to fulfill their promises is not her concern.

She is life and she is death. She is vengeance. She is the night. She is dark shadow even as they turn her slowly, slowly into the light. She licks the blood from their wounds, the sweat from their brows, and breathes. And grows.

They are her forsworn. They are her children. And she will not let them fall.

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Spin a wheel to be assigned someone!

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Hi! I love love love existential crisis mode (I started yesterday and yoy updated today? I am in HEAVEN), and I was just wondering if there's an update schedule? I'm just curious, sorry if I come off as rude or demanding lol

Hi, thank-you!!!!!

You're not the first to ask haha. I don't have an update schedule but it usually works out at being a chapter somewhere between 1-2 weeks. It's mostly dependent upon when I finish a chapter in my buffer and therefore when I can go back to work on edits for the next chapter to update. At the moment though things might be a little slower, because mock exams are upon me and that means hours upon hours of marking English papers 🥲🥲🥲🥲☠️

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Biodiversity is bad, actually. I think there should be one big bug that rules everything.

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Various biological mechanisms allow me the freedom to fail

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to be confident in posting about your Guy all u need to do is read fifty academic articles and five books of varying respectability and reliability and also watched a few operas or plays. this tumblr thing can be so easy

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I need the squidward helmet to have a really random crack reason behind it.

Like, let's say Jason wanted his helmet to protect him from anything, and so when someone tried to cast a beauty spell on him (maybe with good intentions), the helmet absorbed it.

i think that he lost the helmet on a night out with roy and kori and had to go to work as red hood straight from the club without having time to get a replacement, and still shitfaced the only solution the three geniuses could come up with was to saran wrap his fucking face and spray paint it red.

when he breathes you hear crinkling and can see his mouth go up and down ever so slightly

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idk something about Jason and Damian being close at the league… and Jason being Damian’s one true protector that was the only other human Damian could fully trust with his whole heart to keep him safe. something about that sticking with Damian even when he’s living at the manor, to the point where it’s instinctual to never let his guard down around anyone. he can’t sleep unless he’s assured that the door is locked and nobody could break into his bedroom. when he gets injured on patrol and can’t walk he refuses to let anybody carry him to the point where he’d rather denigrate himself to crawling across the floor painfully to avoid it. if he gets injured enough that he needs to be medicated or is about to pass out he just straight disappears. refuses to be that vulnerable around the family so he bolts and they have to just hope that he’ll be able to take care of himself and will show up again in a few days. thinking about the family watching this clearly terrified kid with no safety net and not knowing how to keep him safe because he can’t trust any of them, seemingly can’t trust anyone.

and then Red Hood makes his appearance, they find out he’s Jason Todd, and after some complicated family arguments he eventually starts working with the bats every now and then. it’s tense, but they’re getting there. and then one day Damian gets hurt during patrol and breaks his leg. he can’t walk, and with the other injuries he’s sustained he’s not about to pass out but he’s weak, needs help, needs support. and the family expect him to put up a fight anyway, threaten them like a spitting cat if they dare approach and force them to let him slink off to painfully lick his own wounds for his own peace of mind. and instead, they hear him mumble into the coms so casually, so easy it’s obvious it’s second nature for Damian,

“Hood, assistance.”

“Copy, on my way.”

and they watch Jason scoop Damian up into his arms without getting a single complaint, Damian actually melting into his hold without a single comment about how ‘he doesn’t need it’ or any claims that he’s too strong to require help, and Jason carries him all the way back to the cave. He treats Damian’s wounds, not faltering once, and Damian sits there and lets him without any hesitation. He leans against Jason’s shoulder and asks if he can have a short rest while Jason works, and Jason responds with “yeah, i’ll watch your back.” and Damian trusts it, closes his eyes and relaxes against him, uncaring that there are other people around or that there could be a potential danger, and everybody else realises that… Damian trusts Jason. trusts only Jason, to the point where it’s instinctual for him to believe Jason will keep him safe, that he can rely on him. and Jason is used to this trust in a way that could only mean familiarity; he’s done this before. he’s watched Damian’s back while he’s slept, he’s been the only person Damian will let carry him, treat his injuries, and he’s so used to it he doesn’t even notice how wildly special that trust is, coming from Damian. bcs it’s second nature to those two. they’re brothers via the batfamily, sure, but this is the first time the others realise that Damian and Jason have been brothers for far longer, for multiple other reasons than just the bats.

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Are you going to keep writing batfam/DCU?

oh 100% i love those fuckers too much to not do more

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Just broke a Minor Bone in my Foot while kicking a tree... Heh. Didn't even cry... guess you could say Duel Training is paying off.

Scared yet?

Every day I eat a whole raw onion one bite at a time I love the crunch live for the crunch I've never shed one single tear no matter how spicy it makes my eyeballs feel are YOU sacred yet???????

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Jason joining the Waynes at public outings but in disguise after he’s reconciled with the family is so funny to me. Bruce gets drunk as fuck at a gala and is publicly bemoaning about how much he mourns his second son while Jason is dressed as a bartender shaking a cocktail shaker behind the bar nearby just. staring daggers at him.

Gothamite: poor brucie is having such a tough night, can we get him another drink please???

Damian, sat cross-legged on the bar with a J2o in hand: he’s cut off.

‘bartender’ Tason Jodd: no he can have one.

Dick, also leaning on the bar: why, what are you gonna do to it?

Tim, spinning around on a bar stool: he’s been putting salad cream into the drinks of people that piss him off. it’s great.

Jason, humming: honestly fuck being a crime lord, this is my calling.

Bruce, from the other side of the room wailing: GOD, WHY, HE WAS SO YOUNG-!

The kids:

Jason: i might put salad cream AND hoisin sauce in this one.

Tim: i usually don’t like these galas but i’m having such a great time right now.

Damian: family bonding is much different here than it was back in the league…

Jason: only because Ra’s never fucking noticed when we messed with his drinks. old fucking bitch. no taste buds left.

Damian: *hums*

Tim: *wheeeing as he spins around*

Dick:

Dick: have you been giving him fucking alcohol?

Jason, shrugging: i mean yeah, why not? i’m drunk.

Dick: bOTH OF YOU ARE UNDERAGE-!?!!?

Jason: at least i didn’t let Damian have any.

Damian: you did offer me a puff of your cigarette though.

Tim: *falls off his bar stool*

Dick: jesus christ

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Telepathic aliens enjoy that humans will "play music" for hours at a time. When it's too mentally quiet on deck, they just announce the catchiest song titles they know and the humans will start thinking about it automatically.

The humans hate this so, so much.

Zorf: Human Steve, can you please play that song I like, the one with all the females

Steve: what

Zorf: A little bit of Monica in my life

Steve:

Steve: mother fu--