#(L . M . A . O)

[baldursghaik]

To live is to carry at least a few regrets

[saltpepperbeard]

Taika and Rhys: we're comedians so drama can be harder for us sometimes Me: ARE-YOU-SURE-ABOUT-THAT.GIF

[joeydaccord]

slay

[louferrignojrofficial]

making it a part of your personality to hate a ship or character is so damn sad

[plainclothesdisaster]

Red Knight - Prologue

DP x DC | Dead on Main

Jason Todd encounters one Danny Fenton in the streets of Gotham and suddenly he's thrown into a world of ghosts and monsters. Will he embrace this life? Or will it just end up with him dead again?

Read on AO3 | Next >

---

“Why are you following me?” Jason pressed his arm against the stranger’s throat, pinning him to the alley wall.

Under the sodium glow of the streetlight Jason got his first good look at the guy. Tall, dark hair, maybe his age or a little younger. Not the type he typically saw in the Narrows- he lacked that certain air of despair. The stranger had been following Jason since he’d left his safe house. Maybe the guy thought Jason would be an easy mugging target. Wasn’t he in for a surprise.

The stranger lifted his face and smiled. His blue eyes glowed with a green ethereal light. “How long have you been dead?”

He said it with the casual nonchalance of talking about the weather. Jason tensed, pressing harder on his arm. How the hell did this guy know?

The guy didn’t flinch. He didn’t seem bothered at all. That could only mean one thing.

Jason steadied his breath. “Metas aren’t welcome in Gotham.”

“I’m not a meta. And neither are you. But that doesn’t mean we’re totally human either.”

The stranger tilted his chin up, his smile broadened. Behind his lips he revealed a pair of fangs glinting, taunting.

From nowhere Memories of the pit stirred under Jason’s heart— rage and pain and fear. His pulse raced faster. His arm pressed harder.

As if responding to the pressure the guy’s face softened. “Oh. It’s worse than I thought.” He sounded genuinely concerned. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Shut up!” Somehow the pity stung worse than the taunts.

Jason pulled his fist back to punch the look off the guy’s face, but he didn’t get the chance to. The guy went translucent. He moved through Jason’s arm like a ghost but then suddenly his hands were solid against his chest, pushing with surprising force, sending him stumbling backward to the slimy concrete.

He fell prone and then the stranger was on top of him. Adrenaline flashed through him- too late. His breath clogged in his throat as cold clutch of power hit him. The strangers face twisted in concentration as he put a hand to and then through Jason’s chest.

The fury of the pit raged and roared, nearly as loud as it had when Jason had taken those first screaming breaths back alive. Jason fought, punching and clawing but the guy held form, unshakable. His ears rang and pain sang through his whole body and it felt like he was turning inside out and then—

Quiet.

Quiet, empty relief.

He breathed out. A cool weight sat heavy under his heart where previously there had been a nest of scorpions.

Jason’s mouth fell open. The guy pulled his hand back with a sigh and stood up.

“That should help I think.”

Jason looked down at his chest- unscathed. A thousand questions scrolled through his head. The one that made it out of his lips: “What the fuck?”

The guy shrugged as he stepped back. “Gotta look out for you. You’re one of mine.”

One of mine. Those words sent a shiver through Jason. This guy was obviously a dangerous meta. Jason had been embarrassingly helpless to stop him doing whatever it was he just did. Time for some answers.

Jason rolled up to a fighting crouch and pulled a handgun from his belt. He leveled its comforting weight at the not-meta meta. “I don’t belong to anybody.”

The stranger’s smile came back, and so did his fangs. Jason bit his tongue.

The guy pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and scrawled for a moment, completely nonplussed by the gun pointed at him. “Call me if it gets bad again?”

Jason didn’t move. He gripped the gun tighter. “Who are you?”

Still that smile. “I’m Danny.”

And then he vanished. Not a Batman fade-into-the-shadows type of vanish. One second he was there and the next- nothing but air. The paper he’d written on fluttered down to the ground in the place where he’d stood.

Jason lowered the gun. He got up to walk away, ready to chalk up the whole experience to some meta bullshit he didn’t want to think about again.

But a new weight sat heavy in his chest. The quiet lingered in his head. Whatever that guy did, it made him feel more calm, more in control of himself than he had in a long time. Halfway through that thought the wind picked up and threatened to blow the paper away. Jason’s stomach dropped as he scrambled to catch it. He closed his fist around it just as it reached the street.

He uncrumpled it between his fingers. A phone number, nothing else. On the other side— a receipt for bat burger. What the fuck.

Next >

[sealochs]

um, i bought a flat today ?????????

[pinkpogiclub]

ben o’connor on a random thursday

[sapphic-luthor]

ok we are halfway through s6

(it is…. just not good. it’s not as bad as i remember. but it’s not good)

running gf commentary so far:

(when kara’s fucking dad is alive for whatever reason) “if i had a euro for every dead person that has conveniently been brought back to life for plot reasons… … i don’t know how many i’d have but i’d have a lot anyway”

(when kara was like ‘i don’t remember the phantom zone being like this, this is worse’) “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS IS WORSE YOU HAVE A CAVE AND A FIRE AND YOUR DAD HOW IS THIS WORSE THAN A LIGHTLESS SOUNDLESS VOID WHERE TIME DOESN’T PASS?????”

she was absolutely SHOCKED and AGHAST that alex told kelly about kara/sg offscreen. like she was waiting for it for several episodes and was fuming when i explained that it just happened and we didnt get to see lmao

very mad at the super friends for bullying poor silas the vampire into endangering himself to help them get into the phantom zone. then he got essentially killed by the phantom and nobody even batted an eye and she kept saying “they don’t even care about silas!! I CARE SILAS!!”

specifically hates when they split up the main crew in the final season because it’s our last hurrah with them and all the magic of the friendships and relationships is gone when they’re all off doing their own things

she really hates the relationship between kara and her dad. says there’s no emotional resonance at all, that he could be any old random guy from krypton for all we care and doesn’t see the narrative use of even introducing him

she has caught 3/3 movie references at the exact same time as brainy which has been very impressive to see

says nxyly is like a perfect doctor who character

[embershroud108]

I love how the same people that complain s2 was rushed also want the Piltover/Zaun conflict to have been completely resolved by the end of the season.

[irlkomaedanagito]

komaeda on some level longing to be normal and not have to be so obsessed with hope and despair and talent is just so so sad because sometimes you Want to be normal so badly because of how alienating being yourself is but you just Cant. thats not how life worked out for you. you are Not Normal and Can't Be Normal and youre just going to have to deal with that

[saltpepperbeard]

"Don't cry, Bonnet."

[louferrignojrofficial]

god is good

[emilyjunk]

pls give us a sneak peek of your wip gsu fic, if it’s okay 🙇‍♀️

it is more than okay, in fact! however. i am gifting this completely out of context and slightly angsty chunk to you with the hope that you will understand i have not even mildly glanced at this WIP in over a week and i dont think i've abandoned it but when will i finish and publish this??? who knows... okay, enjoy!

When Regina was sixteen and in the hospital, laid on her back and floating on the hazy white clouds of a beautiful morphine-high, the events of the bus crash would float in front of her in perfectly still images, a flip book of memory, or perhaps a fabrication of it. She’d never been quite sure what was real or not.

She had always found it odd thinking back on it later, in a curiously detached sort of way – or at least pretending it was – that so many of those images had been just Cady and sky. 

There had been a crowd, there had been the bus, there had been blood and pain and the burning, rocky asphalt beneath her splitting skin.

And yet –

Cady had been the first one to reach her, taking Regina’s cheeks between her palms, tears dripping off her chin and onto Regina’s own.

It had been the last thing she’d seen before she passed out. Probably the last thing she had seen before she died. Cady perfectly framed by gray sky, blue eyes bright and piercing even through the tears, and Regina had thought, ow, and she had thought, fuck you, and she had thought, game over, and she had thought, people should not look that beautiful when they’re crying, and then she was gone.

That had been the tragedy of Regina’s life for the next seven years. Not trauma-induced dreams or lingering neck pain – although she had plenty of both – but that last, stupid, Cady-inspired thought: people should not look that beautiful when they’re crying.

It was a horrible catch-22. The way those tears always made her panic, desperate for them to stop, but also the small but unmistakable fascination with their presence; there were always a few seconds where Regina stopped to stare, marveling at the sight like some awful voyeur. She could not have her cake and eat it, too, but the consequential part of her that was cruel and unyielding, the part that loved the way control felt buzzing at her fingertips, sometimes could not resist the temptation to push buttons and bruises and open wounds just for a glimpse of those beautiful tears. 

There was something deeply wrong with her, probably. 

She had never quite figured out what it was, had only always been grateful that Cady somehow still thought she was worth it.

Regina lays on her back now, motionless, breathing, the walls of her room closing in. The seconds tick by into minutes as she stares up at the ceiling, thinking of those tears, Cady’s face floating above her, perfectly framed by gray sky. Eyes so bright and blue and beautiful, a lifeline in a hurricane, the eye of the storm.

Cady doesn’t call her back.

[nat-20s]

call me donna noble the way im a temp now babey

[pinkpogiclub]

the whole entirety of the giro organisation: [honking] [sirens blaring] [tyres screeching] [babies crying]

the riders:

[fcb-mv33]

😎