#I need to make another post about this

[ducky-the-mucky]

I feel like the software department in the Watchtower is small, supper small. Like, so small that anyone who doesn't interact with them thinks the hiring process is extremely rigorous, and you have to be extremely professional and above Player-level skills to even think about getting in, let alone work with the Entire Justice League's software. And no one ever sees them, so one one ever asks about them.

But that's not it. At all.

You see, they get new employees every couple of months, all who barely ever last more than a week.

Why, you ask? Because Batman and the other heroes (but mostly Batman and his stupid batclan) don't communicate with the department when adding to and updating the software. Despite the fact there is a department to do and help with that.

So yeah, only a special kind of person can deal with having to make uncommenting code (with no clear purpose!!!) mesh with other code, having to go through and find unfinished code to either finish or get rid of (stupid batman coding off of 1 hour of sleep from the past two days), and still having to do collabs and stuff with the other departments.

All while waiting on HR to do something about it because they've all already given multiple complaints about it and HR is just sitting there, unsure what to do because not only is it their employers that are the problem but ITS SPECIFICALLY BATMAN.

The Software Department is the middle child of the Watchtower.

[chalkrub]

pwyw thingy from previous opening 🌸

[ghosted-jazz]

I am not immune to this car salesman fairy and his traumaised iPad kid

[the-woman-upstairs]

Really fucked up that, when they’re young, Patrick and Art are SO tactile with each other, so comfortable sharing the same space. Art lets Patrick touch him and move him and physically overwhelm him and easily acquiesces to it, if not outright enjoys it.

Then in the present, they’ve been so far out of each other’s orbit for so long, held such animosity that when they have their moment alone in the sauna, Art physically recoils from Patrick’s close proximity! It’s so painful to watch because even as Patrick’s goading him, it’s so obvious he wants to be able to get back into Art’s space. But Art has erected all these walls around himself, he refuses to give Patrick an inch or even admit to missing how close they used to be!

AND THEN we see Art and Tashi later and he wants her to hold him, to be gentle with him, and just TOUCH him. Like, he does miss that kind of close physical contact! He either doesn’t know how to ask for it or is uncomfortable being that openly vulnerable. Worth noting that he pretty much always defers to Tashi in regard to initiating physical intimacy (with their first kiss, though he does state his desire, SHE has to be the one to make the first move). And it seems pretty obvious that Tashi herself isn’t comfortable providing that intimacy, whereas Patrick actively seeks to provide it (the hug/forehead kiss after their win together in the early years, dragging the stool closer to him).

Art has tried very hard to act like he doesn’t need physical affection and even though his discipline and devotion to Tashi has made him a stronger tennis player, it’s made him a hollow person, which, in turn, has kept him from becoming a GREAT tennis player.

All of this, of course, is why the ending hits so damn hard.

[bunnieswithknives]

OH MY GOD??? HAS IT SERIOUSLY BEEN A MONTH????? I am so sorry guys

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[3liza]

i mean the truth is that we do not need and should not have all this stupid plastic clutter in or houses. no one should be producing or selling this shit. everyone make your own merchandise and charge a living hourly wage to sell it 🤷 sorry to be so simplistic about this but it's one of the results of the lack of class unity specifically in the means of production-owning creative class, who is not mentioned or dealt with by the core Marxist texts as far as I know (i asked about this earlier on here, did marx ever address in his analysis people like, for example, a professional photographer who owns a camera ans prints his own dagguereotypes? or a portrait painter or idk, independent milliner or seamstress? these people all own the means of production and do not employ anyone, and the answer from better educated people than I was that no, Marx didn't mention them), I'm not well read on this at all, there is just a big void where leftist analysis of what modern economists call "the creative class"

I'm getting off topic. my point is make your own keychains in your kitchen. it's actually not hard. you can even mass produce (on a small scale) little plastic crap if you want, with resin and a UV lamp, or a 3d printer, or a laser cutter and acrylic sheets (or just use balsa wood damn, at least its biodegradable and less tacky).

all this stuff is available to little creators AND there are hundreds of people who already own these machines who will take work for you and produce your designs. you just have to actually find them and know them and email them. that's what I mean about the class unity issue with creatives. we have no large scale union, we have no large scale class consciousness, and we're all sending our orders for little plastic crap to sweatshops instead of emailing a guy with a laser cutter in his garage and saying "hey Keith can I get uhhhhhhhhhhh 50 laser cut keychains of this twerking Diggler design I made, like how much would that cost" and he's like sure here's the work and materials cost and tbh it's always always less than i think it's going to be. you just have to do some basic arithmetic and then order shipping, and I hate order fulfillment with my life but you can actually pay or barter with someone to do that for you too. learn to delegate and then factor that into your unit cost. this is basic shit every commercial creator needs to know. they should teach you this in art school but they dont

don't give me crap about "I can't afford a laser cutter" either because I just told you to email Keith. and all these machines get sold secondhand when a manufacturer or hobbyist needs to upgrade. i got a color laser printer perfect for making zines and wheatpastes and shipping labels from a retired lesbian on capital hill for $75 and it was still full of ink. my friend gave me her 20 year old canon dslr because she just didn't need it and didn't want to bother selling it. it works fine because I spent the time finding the right drivers and shit for my computer. and card readers exist. Craigslist. Facebook marketplace. nextdoor sales section. eBay. everyone always forgets eBay. eBay lets you save searches and will email you when it finds a guy selling his vinyl plotter in your city with local pickup. I'm serious

[smileyobrien]

The B in Beckett stands for... [insp.]

[simswoon]

previous // next // beginning

Theo: So… are we ever going to talk about this? Us. What this even is.

Lennon: I don’t know. None of this was part of the plan.

Theo: But do you want it to be something? Or is this all just… because of the baby?

Lennon: It’s not just that. It never was. I care about you, Theo. I always have. I just… every time I start to feel safe, I panic. Like it’s all going to disappear.

Lennon: There’s something I never told you. After we broke up… I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t even get the chance to process it before I lost it.

Theo: I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there.

Lennon: You couldn’t have. I didn’t even tell anyone. I just… tried to forget it happened.

Theo: You don’t have to do this alone anymore. Let me be here. Really here.

Lennon: I want to try. I do. I just don’t know how to stop bracing for the worst.

[warpedpuppeteer]

It's interesting how Buck's love interests are all written in a way that ends because of the reason they meet/happen in the first place and then of course, we have Eddie.

Abby, who changes Buck's view of a healthy relationship but then turns around and ghosts him, making him wait for months on end and letting him realize she's not coming back on his own.

Ali, who meets Buck during a dangerous situation in his line of work and then leaves him for how dangerous his work is.

Taylor, who lashes out at Buck for using her as a fake date and saying she thought she could trust Buck to be a friend who then ends up using him for her career and chose to put his friends in danger.

Natalia, who's there to help him embrace and deal with his temporary death but it leads to their break up because of the constant talk surrounding death when Buck's not comfortable with it.

We can't confirm for Tommy till it ends but it's important to note how he offers to get Buck into his interests like flying and muay thai yet doesn't show effort with Buck's interests like dressing up according to the bachelor party theme despite Buck being stressed about it. And we also have the fact that the entire reason they got together was due to Buck's jealousy for Eddie which he then claims to be was for Tommy. Makes me think they are either going to end because of differing interests OR because of the jealousy issue popping up again.

Funnily enough, every scene above has an Eddie parallel:

Eddie co-parents with Buck and not only does this not stop after a dangerous event but Eddie also has Buck down as a legal guardian (healthy relationship - Abby).

Eddie is in the same dangerous line of work and they have each other's backs. This happens right off the bat too.(dangerous job - Ali).

The Lawsuit era and The Dispatch era - both where they "betray" each other but manage to work through it (betrayal/lie - Taylor).

Eddie doesn't pressure Buck to talk about his temporary death until Buck's ready and is more focused about him living than in his death (death doula - Natalia).

Eddie who has different interests than Buck (poker, basketball and UFC/MMA) but also manages to show interest and actively takes part in whatever Buck comes up with; he suggests their outfit for the themed party AND ends up staying there for Buck even when others leave (different hobbies & showing interest/taking part - Tommy).

Absolutely fascinating when you start noticing that Buck's relationships keep failing for one reason or another and then we have him and Eddie who face the same sort of situations but they still come out of it stronger together.

It's clear that there's a reason Buck is able to overcome anything when it comes to Eddie (that conversation with Maddie about being there for each other even at their worst 👀) and we've already established that everything Eddie looks for in a partner is already something he has found in Buck. So really, all that's left is for them to realize that hey, the one I'm looking for is right in front of me! 🤷🏽

And yes, it's been said to death (hah) but you don't find it son you make it. And Buck and Eddie have already made it.

[yrsonpurpose]

Imminent status as a revolutionary gay icon.

[alistair-blackwood]

It's interesting how Laios struggles to remember Kabru's name right away, yet is able to recall the feeling of his grip well enough to immediately understand that something isn't right (Kabru being cuffed)

[starmocha]

be my eternity, say my name [Caleb/Reader ★ 2725 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] The secrets only you and Caleb would ever know. A/N: ;~; I've been working on this on-and-off since January. I'm so happy it's finally done. Title is referencing a verse in two TXT’s songs, Deja Vu and Run Away (9와 4분의 3 승강장에서 너를 기다려), but for this fic, I drew more inspiration from Deja Vu (I will probably write something using Run Away in the future, because I have ideas, hehe) @deepspacenova I'm also tagging you because this is one of the Caleb song-inspired fics I mentioned to you last night <33333 Tag list:@solifloris @natimiles @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @miudle @alfredosaws @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @yourlocalcatscammer @qyuin 【 request to be added 】

It was a secret.

That you fell for Caleb first.

You couldn’t explain when it had happened, when you finally saw him in a different light, knowing he was someone much more precious than a mere friend. You knew, though, that since that one afternoon long ago when you both came into each other’s lives, you took his hand and never wished to let it go ever.

(I’m Caleb. I’ll always be by your side.)

It was a secret.

In the dark of nights, under thick cover, your hand wandered, slipping in between your legs, driving into your folds, curling just so as your thumb brushed over that sensitive clit as you thought about him just a few doors away asleep in his own bed, unaware of the shameful act you had submitted yourself to, unable to ignore the desires to have him unconditionally, claim him solely for yourself.

All of those close instances, seemingly innocent in the way his body hovered so close to yours, or the way sometimes his arm would wrap around your waist when he teased you, unaware of the effect it was having on you. He never knew how the warmth of his breath teasing against your neck would have your heart skipping several beats faster, how there would be a tightening in your belly when he loomed near you, or the way how sometimes when your playfighting would lead to you tumbled atop him, so close to him physically and yet you felt the vast distance from his heart.

You fantasized of his large hands behind you, resting on the small of your back, his eyes locked with yours, searching almost desperately for permission, an invitation to cross this invisible line between you both. You thought of his lips, seeing the way they trembled, see his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, looking like a man starved, salivating at the sight of the glorious indulgence before him. You thought of treading first, stealing his lips experimentally, swallowing his surprised gasps as you grinded down on him, feeling his growing arousal brushing against your own.

You imagined his restraints broken, picturing him yielding to temptation, his hands fumbling over your body, his hips thrusting up, needing to feel you through the clothed barriers between you both. Your name spilt from those lips, the rasp in his voice more noticeable as he groaned in pleasure, growing more and more delirious as this lust heightened between the two of you.

You panted harder. You wanted his calloused hands on your smooth skin, trailing over secret places he had never known until this moment. You wanted to discover together with him all of the places on both of your bodies that would have you buckling, your toes curling, a hungry desperation for more and more.

You quickened your pace, fingers rushing as you imagined how he would have you come undone fully clothed on top of him, hearing that sweet, sweet voice of his urging you, praising you, coaxing you until you were trembling and crying against him.

Just a little bit more.

So close. So, so close.

Almost there.

With a few more rushed strokes and you were crying out your orgasm, his heavenly name spilling from your lips. For several minutes, you lay in bed, panting and shaken by the pleasure you had just experienced. There wasn’t much thought left in your head, a sudden wave of drowsiness seeming to wash over you.

You sighed.

When you stared at your hand, chest still heaving from the adrenaline, you wondered what it would be like to be filled by him. You couldn’t seem to stop imagining his body against you, wanting to be pinned underneath him, trapped beneath the heavy weight of him, his forearms resting on either side of your head and his face so close to yours, and those soulful eyes imploring you to want him, need him in a way only lovers would ever know.

Your breathing grew shaky again. You wondered how big he was, wondered how well your body could take him. You couldn’t help but imagined this time his hands just gripping your thighs, prying them apart, letting him see just how wet and willing you were for him. That burning need to stretch around him stirred within you again, your hips unwittingly squirming, feeling nothing but also everything.

Inadvertently, you moaned his name again, your body writhing beneath the sheets, the ache inside you renewed. You tossed and turned, your face buried into your pillow to muffle the way you cried out his name over and over again, feeling like you were humping against nothing, your fingers barely able to satisfy you, not like how you knew his own could.

Caleb’s long, thick fingers filling you, thrusting in and out as he made sure you would be ready to take more of him later. You clenched, voice strangled, as you cried harder, feeling your climax approaching again.

“Caleb… Caleb… please… please… Caleb…!”

There was a noise outside your room. You froze in that instance just as your second climax arrived and you bit down on your lip to stifle your moans. Someone was in the hallway. Was it your grandmother…  or was it Caleb? You didn’t know, too scared to even peek at the shadow beneath the crack in the door. Stay silent, you ordered yourself, your hand clamped over your mouth to muffle any sounds that could slip through. You could still feel the lingering shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

You squeezed your eyes shut, curling up under the cover. Even after it was safe to stir again, you stayed still.

You almost wished it was Caleb who came into the room to check in on you. You almost wished he would discover the dirty secrets you kept from him, the way you pleasured yourself many nights thinking of him. You wondered how he would react seeing you in your bed with reddened cheeks flushed hot and fingers wet with your own arousal from the way you shamelessly touched yourself to dirty fantasies of him. You wondered if it would destroy your precious relationship with him, or just maybe, he felt the same.

Maybe he also felt the same about you. Maybe he had his own dirty secrets. Maybe he also carried lewd thoughts in his mind, thinking of you in ways he probably shouldn’t.

If he did, you couldn’t wait to uncover them, wanting his secrets exposed to you alone and yours to him.

(Mornin’, pipsqueak, did you sleep well?

…You could say that.

What is that supposed to mean—never mind, we’re going to be late for school. Hurry up and eat.)

It was a secret that you made the first move.

If there was ever a forbidden line between the two of you, you crossed it without a care, unable to ignore the growing feelings and desires within you. You could never entertain the idea that Caleb would be with anyone but you. He was yours from the beginning and you wanted him to the very end.

One warm afternoon, he was napping on the couch, a book facedown on his chest. You knelt on the floor next to him, drawn to how handsome he looked, peacefully slumbering away like an angel of God seeking respite for just one instance. Such long lashes, you admired with slight envy before smiling as you looked at his lips. They were just barely parted, his breathing soft and slow.

You swallowed, suddenly nervous, before you leaned in, pressing your lips to his, light and a little awkward, but that immediate tingle you felt was already an exhilarating rush that chased away your earlier coyness.

He stirred, but before you could pull away, his hand was behind your head, keeping you in place to your shock. He didn’t say anything, but you felt him kissing you back, and you yielded to him, savoring this moment like a sweet forbidden fruit you had shamelessly coveted.

When he opened his eyes, beautiful pools of violet stared back at you in relief. You smiled back, thinking you could drown in them forever if he would let you. His book dropped to the floor with a dull thud and you were dragged on top of him in seconds. You stared down at his smiling face, a warmth spreading over your cheeks, suddenly coy again now that it was apparent his feelings were identical to yours.

One hand reached up to cradle your cheek, your own two hands covered his as you gazed down with fondness in silent understanding.

The house was empty. It was just the two of you, in your own little world, your own little Eden.

Just like how it had always been, it seemed.

(Mm, are you… are you sure?

Never been surer in my life, Caleb… You?

If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up.)

It was a secret how soft Caleb’s lips were, how quickly addicted you became, wanting and needing all of his kisses, wanting to greedily pocket them all for yourself. The short, fleeting ones, just barely there, stolen lips in passing when no one could see, or passed off as just a trick of the mind. The long, drawn-out kisses, both your feelings poured out in intense sessions that would leave you breathless but unable—unwilling—to stop, always yearning for more.

Fast, messy kisses, rushed with frantic hands grabbing at one another, bodies pressed together in secrecy, hidden away in dark corners or under covers.

The way he would kiss you all over. Gentle, tender forehead kisses. Playful pecks on the tip of your nose. Sweet, chaste cheek kisses. He would get bolder, kissing along down your neck, in the crook, along your shoulders, leaving not a spot untouched by his lips.

He would be more sensual, worshipping you all over. Down your chest, leaving you gasping and squirming against him, trapped beneath him in surrender.

Such lascivious kisses he would leave along the inside of your thighs. Heavenly lips seeking your intimate area, a secret place only he would ever know as he hungrily tasted you, devouring like a man starved and worshipping like a sinner seeking salvation.

Caleb was always smart, so it didn’t take him long to learn your body, discovering all of the ways he could make you cum for him. He could be the sweetest man when he wanted to be, but those little moments when he was just a little more taunting in his words and in his ministrations had a way of driving you wild, finding him even more desirable than you thought was possible.

(Ah… Caleb… I’m going to… ah… wa-wait…

Cum for me, my pretty girl.

Oh, fu—)

It was a secret how delicious you tasted afterwards on his lips.

(So pretty. So, so fucking pretty like this.)

It was a secret how warm Caleb’s mouth felt around your nipple, how the way his tongue swirled over the sensitive nub had you bucking shamelessly against him, his hands automatically forced to grip your hips to keep you in place on his lap. Even when your small hand grabbed at his hair, tugging and whining, he suckled harder on one nipple while he let one hand squeezed and groped your other breast, kneading the soft, supple mound with experimental strength, relishing in the way that you gasped out his name and how under your skirt, he could feel your panties getting damped, the soaked fabric brushing over his thigh had his mind racing, growing delirious with ideas of what he could do to you.

It wasn’t just the mere imaginary ideas of what he could do to you that had him going wild, but the very knowledge that you would willingly let him had him hardening, his control and self-restraints weakening as all he wanted to do was give in to his desires—give in to you.

(You make such pretty sounds. Is it only for me?

D-don’t tease me… Ah…!

I’m not teasing. I want to hear more.

Ca-Caleb!)

It was a secret how Caleb pressed you into his mattress, how you always and willingly spread your legs for him. This was always where he was meant to be, between your legs, his body looming above yours. No matter how many times he had taken you, it always felt like the first.

With Caleb, everything always felt like the first time, as if you and he were always restarting from the beginning, never letting the story of you and him end.

(Already this wet? I haven’t even done anything yet. Naughty, naughty.

I… I… can’t help it… you…

Tell me. Tell me how I make you feel.

Caleb…! Ah…!

Tell me. Did you get excited—thinking about my cock pounding this needy pussy?

Wai-don—yes!

Do you always think about me like that? Answer me.

…Yes…

Louder.

Yes! Yes, yes, Caleb, always!

Ah—oh fuck—)

It was a secret how you always would come so sweetly around him, muffled moans suppressed under his large hand, under his intense smoldering amethyst eyes before they closed as he filled you full with thick, heavy spurts of his seed, his own groans stifled, burying deep into your shoulder.

(Shh, we don’t want anyone hearing us, alright?

…Mmph…

I’ll spoil you next time. I want you to scream my name next time.)

It was a secret how many times Caleb had filled you. How full you felt as your belly bulged, the sight always clouding his mind with dark lust, the need to always keep you like this, completely ruined by him, made for him.

He kept you flushed to him, your body heat exchanged and shared. He kissed you soundly as he softened inside of you, but he showed no sense of urgency about parting, still wanting to stay buried in your warmth. He seemed reluctant to break the kiss, the sounds of both of your heavy breathing filled the room as he gazed down at you, wanting to keep you locked within his gravity.

(It’s like you were made for me. All mine.

And you for me?

Right. Yours. I’m all yours. No one else’s. Yours.)

It was a secret how you dreamed of a life of just you and him, hidden away in a paradise of your own making. There would be no sorrow, no anguish, or judgment from others. You dreamed of long summer days, basking in the day’s warmth with his fingers intermingled with yours.

You dreamed of laying on green grass, him on top of you with the blue heavens above as witnesses of your love for him, and within his vibrant violet eyes, there was a promise of eternity, his life was yours—was only ever yours and no one else’s.

(Pipsqueak… go to sleep.

No… I want to keep watching you.

Silly girl… You can watch me tomorrow.

I want to watch you now. And I’ll watch you tomorrow, too. Caleb…

Hmm… So greedy.

Only when it comes to you.

…

…Caleb?

I feel the same. I want to keep you all to myself. Forever mine.)

It was a secret.

That you and Caleb belonged together.

The world would never understand.

A bond this sacred was meant to last for eternity, your souls bounded together long ago when you took his hand first but he was the one to hold on tight, promising himself to you for all of your lives together.

(Caleb… I—

Wait—let me… just let me…)

Such heavenly secrets stayed hidden away from nonbelievers.

No one would ever know of him the way you did, just as he had uncovered all of your secrets, stealing them away to be his and his alone.

His hand on your cheek, eyes always finding yours, you knew already the words that were to come, but you waited in anticipation with bated breath.

In the next instance, his sweet smile filled your vision and you were pulled back into his orbit, locked within his embrace. When you looked up, his warm breath intermingled with your own, your heart beating quietly for him. He cradled your cheek, guiding your lips to his, and he breathed a secret to you, a promise of eternity only for you.

(I love you. I’ll always be by your side.)

[myketheartista]

so is anyone gonna talk about how impulse and false are the only androids in season 8 that are relatively unharmed and have to watch some of their friends undergo extreme stress while others are damaged beyond repair, meanwhile they aren't very close to each other in the first place and have to deal with their own struggles as all of this happens—do you think that gets to them? where they're forced to wait during that period of time between seasons to see if etho and tango's injuries weren't too severe and if they'd reboot as normal, if cub's memories from a planned deviancy would remain in tact despite the lapse in sanity, if mumbo would even wake up from whatever happened to him. wels and joe seemed fine, with minor damage and all, but those are still scars, still moments in time that are etched into their shells and memories that are forced to be remembered.

impulse and false who were built with the ability to protect people if needed, with his strength and her skillset, and yet neither of them were able to help their friends. do you think they're grateful it wasn't them? or would they have preferred it be them with the mentalities they both have, caring for people and all.

anyways shep @shepscapades can you talk about impulse and false more and the repercussions season 8 had on them please and thank you <3

[valkugo]

Lochlan Ratliff + connection to femininity

[s-wave-entertainment]

NO BECAUSE I DON'T THINK WE TALK ABOUT THIS ENOUGH WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THIS ENOUGH CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS? BECAUSE

Yeah okay that's a pretty terrifying thing to see, and I can pretty logically assume this is hallucination on N's part, but does that stop him from literally CATCHING HER IN THE NEXT THREE SECONDS???

NO THE FUCK IT DOES NOT LOOK AT HIS HAND LOOK AT HIS HAND UNDERNEATH HER HEAD LOOK AT IT

CAN WE ALSO TALK ABOUT THE CHANGE IN EXPRESSION THAT I CAN ONLY ASSUME IS DUE TO WHAT HE SAW?? Like also I assume yeah obviously he's worried about Uzi because who the fuck wouldn't be (Cyn) but like LOOK AT THIS BULLSHIT

HIS EYES DON'T HOLLOW OUT UNTIL SHE NEARLY HITS THE GROUND AFTER THAT WHOLE THING OCCURS AND YOU CAN SEE THE FUCKING SWITCH FROM "Oh my fucking god what the hell is happening" TO "BEEP BEEP BEEP RED ALERT SHIT'S GOING DOWN OH BISCUITS OH FUCK"

"Myrah what the fuck are you on about it's 8:30 in the damn morning?"

I AM UNWELL ABOUT THESE TWO GODDAMNIT

[erinwantstowrite]

You are the only person I have tumblr notifs on for and sometimes I forget to realize you aren’t just…the entirety of tumblr

wdym i am all of tumblr. i can tell you everything you need to know. yaoi. crabs. idea of march. infighting. blood. uhhhh... spider-man :) and batman