#and i don't wanna write it myself

[seeseemerun]

*refreshes the page* It's been half an hour. Surely someone has posted a Midam fic. No? Perhaps in the next fifteen minutes a new one will appear...

[fabizetha]

Do someone have any fanfic recommendation of an identity reveal but like, not just between Marinette and Adrien, but everyone? Like, the whole Bustier's class or the entire Paris or a bigger social circle tan Marinette, Adrien, Alya and Nino? I would like to read something like that but not really finding any which catch my attention... or any at all

[tshortik]

I love you messy artstyle i love you visible brush strokes I love you textures and rough edges I love you imperfections I love you roughness and colour blobs I love you scratchy sketches and bold stylisation and dirt and imperfections I love you ugly and raw emotion!!!!! ❤️

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[mxtxfanatic]

No, every interpretation is not valid in a piece of media unless the creator has explicitly said somewhere that they have left their work open to interpretation. If you wanna “choose your own adventure” your way through a story, Minecraft exists, The Sims 4 was made free, a blank Word/Google document is a few clicks away, a pen and paper are easily found in the supplies section of most stores. A story for adults with a plot, characters, and conclusion is not your build-a-bear. You are looking for fanfics.

Someone else took the time to make a thing and share it with you so that you could understand the thing they are trying to communicate to you. If an author writes, “The sky is purple,” you don’t get to go, “Well, in the world that I live in, the sky is blue, so the sky in the story must be blue, too. Let’s discuss!” and treat that as “valid interpretation” that should be discussed with equal weight as the people discussing “ok, what’s the significance of the sky being purple? 🤔” I don’t give a singular fuck about whether you are familiar with the "cultural context" of the story or whether you can understand the original language it was written in or whether or not you know the creator on a person level. None of that shit matters, because nobody consumes media for the express purpose of finding out whether or not it conformed to the bank of knowledge Rando Number User #24,232 has learned in life. No person engaged in real critique ever has to take you seriously if your attempts at "analysis" begin and end at "I don't know the author irl to know what their intentions were, so anything goes!" That is a lazy copout, nothing "critical" to be found. Not everything in a general fandom space has to be canon-exclusive, no, but every claim to canon has to align with what is in the actual source material. There’s nothing wrong with either of those statements.

So no, you don’t get to waltz into a canon space going “Jiang Cheng is a great brother and uncle, let’s discuss” and then get upset when told “In this book, Jiang Cheng is an abusive uncle and childhood friend, and round these parts, we discuss the book.” Don’t wanna discuss Jiang Cheng's canon characteristics? The main tags never went anywhere. Get from round these parts.

[necrotic-nephilim]

@sasheneskywalker i love when you enable me to ramble about things because oh my god do i have thoughts.

so recently, i made a post discussing the phenomena of DC x DP and DC x MLB crossovers and why they exist and part of that post was discussing how largely speaking, at least half, if not more of the Batfamily fandom doesn't read the comics. if they interact with canon DC material, it's adaptations that are their own sequestered universes and oftentimes not remotely comic accurate or seeking to be. the most obvious example is the Young Justice cartoon. i'm adding a cut to this post because it just got so long i'm so sorry.

a lot of times, when people are discussing the "why" of this oversaturation of fanon-only fandom, they blame Wayne Family Adventures. and i think, to a point, i agree WFA is responsible for a boom in this fandom. but as someone who's been in the fandom long before we had WFA, to me it's the other way around. WFA was DC's way of meeting the demand for this easy-to-get-into, easy-to-consume content about the Batfamily that predicates itself on the comics just enough to be vaguely the same characters, but has a more sitcom, slice-of-life sort of vibe so DC could profit off of this section of the fanbase that otherwise wasn't consuming its primary material. and well, it's definitely worked. not only that, but i have a weird theory that the decline in the MCU also led to the rise in the Batfamily fandom. when you consider the fan content that made the MCU popular within fandom, it's that 2012 "they all live in Avengers Tower and Thor is eating poptarts and Clint is in the vents and there are movie nights every Friday" sort of vibe. those were the fics that were a hallmark of the fandom. and as the MCU has strayed from well... quality content in general, but specifically well-thought-out crossover content where characters can have their own arcs but also exist in a wider story where they clearly care about each other, that fandom was sort of homeless. so where do you go, if you like a superhero found family where you can have villains for angst but also stick them all in one big family-like home for silly crack and have a plethora of options for gay ships? well. you go to the Batfamily. if you write a crack/fluff Batfamily genfic with silly vibes and low stakes instead of say, a fic about a very specific comic issue even if it's a popular comic, you're *going* to get more traction for the former. because the fanbase largely just isn't reading the comics.

and i feel... complicated about this. because on one hand, Don't Like Don't Read has been a tenet of my fandom experience. i'm very pro-fandom and that includes fandom content i don't like. and to an extent, i do think this sort of should apply to Batfamily fanon. i enjoy having my moments with other comic purists, giggling over exceptionally painful OOC headcanons or even facepalming in pain over some content but it is on me to not interact with that content. you don't make fandom a better place by being hostile to fans who engage with canon in ways you don't approve of. and frankly? we as comic readers are not going to get non-comic fans to read the comics by being asshats to them. no one is going to want to pick up any comic if we get a superiority complex about it. and also, i feel like we're all lying to ourselves a little bit insisting comics are so, so easy to get into. they're not. we can just all agree, they're really not. i've been single-handedly helping my sister get into comics, specifically Wonder Woman and no matter how simple i make it, i watch her get frustrated trying to understand what pre-Crisis and post-Crisis and New-52 and Flashpoint and all these things mean and what a retcon vs a reboot is and what a Crisis Event is and what the hell Diana's current backstory even *is*. sure, you can give someone a beginner list of comics to start with and slowly dip their toes in the water but sooner or later, *something* is going to confuse them. comics as a medium straight up aren't going to be everyone's cup of tea. and if someone *just* wants to read silly fluffy fanfiction about the Batfamily, i can't entirely begrudge them for not wanting to take the hours and hours out of their day to understand this medium. it's not an accessible medium to get into. "read this and this, but this run is out of print and this run wasn't collected in trades at all but also make sure you read that event in order and this is a good comic but the backstory in it is retconned and you *have* to read this it's so important but it's also really bad because the author kind of sucks" sounds. ridiculous for someone who like. just wants to read some stuff about Nightwing. sometimes, we all make reading comics sort of sound like a chore, not a hobby.

so my point is, i do extend some grace to Batfamily fanon for existing. i think my biggest gripe is, as i said in my other post, misuse of tags (if you're not creating content about comics, maybe you don't need the comics fandom tag on Ao3, just the all media types umbrella tag) and my far bigger gripe: when panels are taken out of context to support fanon only headcanons. if i could impart *anything* onto the Batfamily fandom as a comic fan it'd be this: if you haven't *read* the comic, don't spread the panel. if you don't even know what comic it's *from*, don't spread the panel. it's fine to use comic panels to discuss your headcanons, but so often i see someone spreading a comic panel from a comic they haven't read, and when asked where it's from, they can't source it. a silly example that comes to mind is a post going around, taking a panel where Dick, in his internal monologue goes "here comes the sun. do do do do." and the post is claiming it's from him getting buried alive. when that panel comes from Nightwing (1996) #140, and he gets buried alive in Nightwing (1996) #127, two completely different moments frankensteined together. if you're going to not read the comics, that's completely fine, but unless you're sure of the source and the context, panels shouldn't be spread around. i'm sick of this specifically happening to Red Robin (2009), with ppl claiming Tim has totally killed people because he blew up some of Ra's' bases, when those panels within context, make it clear he gave everyone time to escape. and in a later arc in that very comic, Tim grapples with the idea of murdering Captain Boomerang, and *specifically chooses not to*, because he doesn't agree with murder, even against the person who has hurt him the most. if you'd like to write fanfiction where Tim is pro-murder and has done some sketch things, i'm totally on board and would probably like to read it. but there's no need to pretend it's canon from a few panels you saw out of context.

beyond that, i think it's not *entirely* correct to say that fanon is harmless. whenever i see very WFA-positive posts, they often default to the argument that WFA is fun and silly, and comic fans are killjoys for not liking it. which. i think is complicated because the issue is, WFA and fanon don't exist in a vacuum. if you like WFA power to you, i don't think it's the worst thing ever, but i do think it's degrading to these characters because honestly? they feel incompetent in the webtoon. it's one thing if WFA was solely a slice-of-life sort of deal, just having silly episodes where Bruce is taking on a PTA mom or they're all fighting for the last cookie. but when WFA attempts to take on more serious plots with these characters, it *fundamentally* falls flat in understanding them. i get it, Bruce comforting Jason having a panic attack because a noise reminded him of the crowbar felt cute in a microcosm, but i'm so serious when i say that storyline destroyed how like. half of this fandom understands Jason Todd's relationship to his trauma. it doesn't understand how he reacts when he's triggered, what coping mechanisms he seeks out, and how he would handle Bruce comforting him. even if i can believe for a brief moment Jason *would* be triggered by something like that, him running and trying to hide and then getting a hug from Bruce to make it okay is just. painful. WFA needs everything to be wrapped up in a nice, neat little bow. so even when it starts to tackle interesting concepts, it makes them fall flat with its need to be soft, low stakes, hurt/comfort. there was a two-parter episode that dealt with the complicated mutual hatred/jealousy between Tim and Damian that *almost* really interested me because for once, it felt like the webtoon wanted to explore canon messy dynamics. but of course, it had to be fixed with one conversation and a hug. you don't mend the *years* of issues these characters have like that. WFA isn't in character because these characters are hyperbole cartoonified versions of themselves to fit within the medium and be a cute happy family.

because that right there, is the crux of it. the Batfamily fanon seeks to simplify the Batfamily and force them into a nuclear family. there are so many fantastic posts on here discussing how the nuclear family-ification of the Batfam is eroding decades worth of complex histories so i won't go too far into that. but what i will say is that there's this need, in the Batfamily fandom, for the Batfamily to exist as a unit. they are a *family*. (honestly i think calling it the Batfamily is a misnomer and has been for years but we're in too deep now.) they exist to each other first, and any teams or friends they have come secondary to this family unit. you can *specifically* see this demonstrated in what headcanons are becoming popular these days. i have an entire lengthy meta in my drafts about how i *loathe* the "the Batfamily meets the Justice League" genre of fanfic because it makes no *sense*. in order to have this genre of fic exist, you must operate under the assumption that no one in the League, or adjacent to the League, knows the Batfamily exists and are thus utterly shocked to discover Batman has kids. and to make *that* work, you have to strip *every single Batfamily member* of such important dynamics and friendships so you can lock them all in Gotham for their whole lives. Dick can't have the Titans, Tim can't have Young Justice, Duke & Cass can't have the Outsiders, Jason can't have the Outlaws, Damian can't have the Supersons, Babs can't have the Birds of Prey, and so on. because if they had these relationships, they would be known to the League. the Batfamily fandom doesn't care about this, it's just "silly fanfiction", it's not trying to be serious. but how can you say you like Dick Grayson as a character if you don't understand the Titans *are* his family? at some points of his life, moreso than the Batfamily even is. it is constantly repeated to us in most comics with Dick how much the Titans mean to him. he *needs* them to be who he is. the same extends to every other Batfamily member, most of which have been full League members at this point. but in fanon, that doesn't matter. the Batfamily are a sequestered unit first, and all of those side relationships are secondary and easy to toss away, if it makes your fanfic work better.

and because they have to be a unit first, you have these forced relationships that dump years of actual canon material for the sake of making them get along. the Batfamily fandom has its favorites and well. it's no secret it's usually the boys. Jason and Tim by *far* stand out as fandom faves so, their dynamic is a heavily explored one. it does matter that in canon they don't tend to get along and especially don't see each other as family. what matters is that you can push dynamics onto them. and so fanon gets all twisted up about which Robin Tim actually idolized as a kid (Dick) and what member of the Batfamily is pro-murder but still an older sibling figure to him and looks out for him (Helena, or if you want the dynamic of once tried to harm Tim but they've reconciled, Jean-Paul) in favor of who's the most popular. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian are always going to be the standouts for popularity, but it's specifically Jason and Tim who are getting fanonized the most. and that's because really, we don't have much canon content of Tim that *isn't* the comics. for Dick you've got Young Justice (tv), for Damian you've got the DCAMU, for Jason you've sort of got the Under The Red Hood movie, but Tim sort of lingers in this limbo. (yes, he's in Young Justce (tv) and Titans (live action) but in neither is he the main character nor given much depth) so, he gets a *lot* projected onto him and has become fanonized. and even with Jason's animated movies, you don't see him interact with Tim, so people build it from the ground up how they want to see it, disregarding of canon comics. i think it's what makes him so popular in the first place- he's malleable into whatever you want or need him to be.

and of course, the fanon ignores other characters in the Batfamily it doesn't know about. i feel like you could create a tier list of Batfamily characters by their popularity, going from the fandom main characters: Tim, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Damian. to the underrated: Steph, Duke, Babs, Cass. to the forgotten about unless they're convenient for a story: Kate, the Foxes, Helena Wayne, Carrie, Selina, Harper Row, Maps, Minhkhoa Khan. to the absolutely unknown: Helena Bertinelli, Jean-Paul Valley, Onyx Adams, the Clovers, Julia Pennyworth. it's not lost on me that the ignored characters tend to be women and people of color. which is both a canon and fanon problem, DC will continue adding interesting characters to the Batfamily, play with them for a few years, then drop them to default to the "Batboys" again. and it's a vicious cycle of the fandom only caring about the "Batboys", and thus people entering the fandom via fanon osmosis won't have content about the other characters, therefore, they won't be interested in those characters enough to create it, and it's just this ouroboros consuming itself, no matter how much canon content we have of these other characters. and it's ridiculous just how large the Batfamily is becoming because of this, which is why i'm a pre-Flashpoint fan, because then the Batfamily was contained enough to actually feel like a family with every character having nuances relationships with each other, but i digress because those thoughts could be their own post.

and the thing about fanon is it doesn't exist in a vacuum. DC has started turning the comics to accommodate for what fans are asking for, because fans will beg and beg for content they're not going to consume. Tim Drake: Robin had Tim as a coffee drinker because that's the fanon accepted headcanon. and the resolution of the recent Gotham War arc was for Bruce to buy this new manor for everyone to move in and call him. nevermind that most of these characters have their own homes and have zero reason to be moving in with Bruce. Tim had his marina in Tim Drake: Robin, Dick has Bludhaven, Cass and Steph have their little side of town in Batgirls (2022), and so on. these characters are being forced together as a unit, as one big happy family living together, to appease what non-comic fans want and it's damaging comic relationships. Robin: Knight Terrors saw Jason and Tim team up and working together, which i've seen varying opinions on but i personally despised. their interactions made zero sense for any of their canon history, but it appeases them being this close sibling relationship that fanon acts like they are. also the fears they faced in their respective knight terrors didn't make sense for either character and *only* worked as a moment of bringing them together so they could reassure each other and have this weird dreamscape bonding moment. the canon is bending itself to the will of fanon rather than building on the pre-existing complex relationships. Tim barely even gets along with his most important team in Dark Crisis: Young Justice because it seems the only important relationships the Batfamily can have is with each other. and when we do see them outside of the Batfamily, it only seems to be to relive the glory days like with World's Finest: Teen Titans, instead of developing them as they currently exist. this isn't recent in the comics, it feels like you can trace it back to the New-52, but it does feel a *lot* worse over the recent years. WFA is fine when it exists in its own bubble, but the simple truth is, DC content never exists on its own. the adaptations will reflect back onto the comics. (the damage the Young Justice cartoon has done to some characters should honestly be studied) and so it does frustrate me a bit when fanon-only or adaptation-only fans act like we're being nothing but killjoys for being frustrated with this. since they don't read the comics, they don't see how the comics are suffering as a result of this.

people argue about what's out of character for the comics they don't even read. i'm sorry, but "bad dad Bruce" is consistently canon. that man is just kind of shitty. when you take someone who has the drive he has, who has this need for the Mission first, who needs a teenager in spandex next to him to keep him off the ledge, that guy is sort of going to be a shitty father figure. he just is. not on purpose or with malice, but when you compare him to any other dad in a big DC family, he sure takes the cake. it's why characters like Oliver Queen tend to *really* fucking hate Bruce for how he treats his kids. Bruce loves fiercely, but he doesn't do well with putting that love first. and his love is a controlling one, he is very particular about controlling how others in the Batfamily are "allowed" to operate. it's what drives the wedge between him and Dick, it's why Steph is never a true daughter to him. (besides the reason of her needing to be a love interest to Tim first, anyway-) i've never understood the massive outcry of people reacting to Bruce kinda being shitty in comics they're not reading. there are some moments that get ridiculously OOC with how cartoonishly evil he is (the whole Gotham War arc and that... complicated mess with Jason) but largely if you want sitcom loving nuclear father Bruce, you have to accept that is a fanon thing, not a canon one. the Batfamily being a nuclear family in *general* is fanon. most of the "Batkids" don't actually see Bruce in a particularly fatherly light and begging for moments where he calls them his kids or they call him dad outside of incredibly specific circumstances is just OOC.

it's getting harder and harder to exist peacefully in this fandom it feels like, if you don't comply to the standard fanon has set. i'm happy people are having fun with their blorbos, even if in ways i dislike, but that "harmless fandom fun" does ripple it's way back to canon, eventually. so i end up pretty tangled with my feelings because are fans at fault for DC making these poor decisions? probably not, but it certainly feels like an unfortunate cause-and-effect situation whether at the end of the day, nobody is happy. and of course, i know some fanon-only fans are striving to be more canon accurate and care about canon dynamics more than others, but for them it's always going to be an uphill battle with the above-mentioned out-of-context panels thrown around and ever-pervasive fanon overtaking anything that's truly seeking to be canon compliant. so really, it sometimes feels like we're all losing.

[kuriipi]

I'm rewatching hazbin and I still can't find where the fandom decided that Vox gets abused and/or manipulated by Valentino??? Like did we not all see Voxxy play him like a fucking fiddle in episode 2??? I'm losing my fucking mind!

At worst Valentino is abusing his mental health with all the damage control he's forced to do!!

[genericpuff]

vent post

[willowser]

satoru avoids you.

it's easy to tell with him, when most mornings have you wrapped sweetly up in the expanse of his warmth; face tucked into your neck, a hand half up your shirt, lanky leg tangled between yours. but the bed is empty, and you let the silence live, for now. sometimes he needs it.

faintly, you can hear him tinkering in the kitchen, though satoru hardly does anything quietly. how gently he's setting his utensils and plate in the sink is with purpose, like he's trying to keep you asleep for just a moment longer. it's unusual, is all: him not wanting for your attention every chance he can get it.

you stretch out into the space his long limbs are no longer hoarding, sighing a little breathlessly, as if you need to be quiet, too—and when you run a hand across your sleepy face, something scratches you. something sitting on your finger that most certainly was not there the night before.

it's rather simple, in the best way; almost inconspicuous, if it weren't adorned on your hand, right in front of your face. you don't doubt it still cost him an arm and a leg, but—there are no frills, no in-character, extravagant designs, no fluff.

there is only a single band and a small diamond, one that is almost a gentle blue in the light of the morning.

you're sitting there, staring at it blankly when satoru finally returns, though he still doesn't look at you.

"well, well, well," the grin in his voice is obvious, and you feel a distant relief that his tone is teasing, that his spirits are up. and then you feel a belated annoyance that he's daring to say anything about you being in bed. "look who's finally up."

it's still a bit early, you want to remind him, but he's already at his closet with an urgency in his step, picking out a set of clothes that give the impression he's not going to be crawling back into bed with you.

he continues, like he knows what you're thinking. "the one time itadori is early..." and he trails off with a shake of his head, running a hand through his hair as if he doesn't know to wear the same thing he does every time he trains with the students.

and you see it there on him, too.

almost blending in with his hair, a little, white silicone band that's hugging the base of his long finger, almost like the two of you have already up and done the ceremony and said your vows and til' death do you part, amen.

you finally say something when he tugs his shirt over his head in a hurry.

"do you really think this is a good idea?"

the dust has settled, but he is still gojo satoru.

it's taken a long time just for you to get here with him, enjoying a lazy morning in his home, seeing his hair still sleep-mussed, granted the quiet, intimate view of him pulling on his pants. he kept you an arm's length away for almost too long, for a numerous amount of reasons he's never listed for you, and you've never held it against him because you know why he worries. why he has to.

your question is genuine, though he is anything but.

he turns to look at you, all smiles. "have a little faith in me, peach, i practically taught him everything he knows! i can handle the kid."

you pull your knees up to your chest to hug, frowning. "i'm being serious."

satoru's expression softens, but only just. he flaps a hand at you as if to wave off your worry, before turning back around to pluck his shirt out. "have i ever been wrong about anything?"

you watch the marble of his back as he pushes his hair out of his face, blindfold at the ready, before slipping out of bed. he's still bare, and you press your cheek into his spine, wrapping your arms around his little waist. the affection makes him tense; you half-expected him to shut you out.

"satoru," you murmur into his skin, and when you peek around his shoulder to meet his reflection in the mirror, all you're allowed is dark fabric.

—but then he tugs one side up and levels you with his bright stare. "i do," he says, and the irony of his words has you flushing a bit. "i do think it's a good idea."

you can feel his heartbeat through his back, heavy and human, and you wait until his stomach flexes with all his nerves before biting him on the back of the arm. he lets you.

"okay," you press a smile into him, warm, until it spreads to his own face. "i do, too."

[cerise-on-top]

Hello! Can you write something with Valeria garza with f!reader (as her wife) who wears classy dresses, expensive jewelry, heels, hair and makeup always done, with a sassy but lovingly attitude? Thank you <333

Hey! Yeah, sure!

Valeria with a Fancy!Reader

Most of what you’re wearing was probably bought by Valeria since she’s supportive like that. Whenever she sees something you might like, she’ll buy it for you, whether that be online or in a store she just so happened to walk by. The vendors likely know her by then since she does, more often than not, go out of her way to find something you might like. And when she’s operating internationally? She’ll find the fanciest clothing out there and buy it for you. And if they don’t have it in your size for whatever reason she’ll have it tailored, anything for her beloved little spouse. You don’t need to lift a finger in order to get something nice you might want.

However, if you do want to, then you can. She’s more than happy to go outside with you and look for some lovely dresses, jewelry and whatnot. Her sense of fashion isn’t that bad either, so she can advise you perfectly fine. She knows her colors and how well they would go with your skin color, your eyes and any other accessories you might want to wear. But don’t always force her to go outside just for clothes shopping, sometimes she just wants to stay inside, unwind and maybe take a nap. During those times you might not want to drag her outside too much, because no matter how much you sass her, she will always sass you back twice as bad. She also has the advantage of being very threatening when she wants to be, so don’t annoy her too much.

Valeria has quite the amount of jewelry herself, from brooches with sapphires in them, to earrings with genuine amethysts. Whatever you want, she likely has some variation of it. Since she started her business, she doesn’t always have the time to wear everything anymore, but you’re more than welcome to take whatever you want in this case. If she’s home, you might want to tell her, though, so she won’t start wondering where her necklace of real pearls has gone. As long as you return it to her, everything is alright, though. She’ll give you everything but one item in her possession: It’s a silver necklace with a locket. It doesn’t have a picture in it or anything, but it holds sentimental value to her. If you take it she’ll yell at you, but everything else is fair game.

Valeria doesn’t really wear makeup herself, she’ll just look stupid when it starts getting runny as she’s sweating. Besides, she’s here to fuck things up, not to look pretty. Valeria is a businesswoman, which means she won’t do much paperwork, that’s for her lackeys, but instead she’ll kick ass if she needs to. Therefore, she doesn’t know too much about makeup, so you’ll have to tell her what she needs to look out for and what may look good on you. While she may know which clothing looks good on you, she’s a bit lost with makeup. If you tell her what you want, then she’ll get it for you, but she might not always go out of her way to buy some new mascara, eyeshadow or blush for you. Again, you’re better off just telling her.

As for heels and hair: You can get your hair done however you want to. While she may not particularly be helpful in that regard, aside from paying for your visits at the hairdresser, she doesn’t have the time to learn how to do your hair either. She can braid it if you want, in a simple manner, but it doesn’t really go beyond that. Heels, though, she’ll look out for what she can find. In fact, if it’s your cup of tea, she might get you a matching purse while she’s at it as well.

Again, as mentioned previously, if I were you, I wouldn’t give her too much attitude, she knows how to deal with people like that. She sees something like that as a challenge, you sass her, she’ll put you in place. She’ll be far from violent, but your cocky behavior needs to be toned down a bit, especially when she’s tired. You’ll do as she says eventually, no matter how long you resist. And when you do finally listen to her? She’ll smirk and call you out on it. It’s a game to her, and she always wins in the end. Whether she needs to trap you between the wall and her, holding your face between her thumb and index finger to guide it, or revoke any and all rights for kisses until you’re desperate for one doesn’t matter, she’ll get her way eventually.

[titstatstummy]

okay but has anyone taken the car scene from resisting roots as inspiration for bucktommy art or a fic (minus the cringe) because i fucking need that

like come on Tommy canonically is a car guy. Him bending Evan over the hood of some classic muscle car to eat him out and then fuck him should basically write itself

[hamartia-grander]

Wyll breaking up with the player character if Ulder dies so Wyll must become the Duke makes me wanna throw up sobbing because he actually thinks that just because his father's first duty being to Baldur's Gate made him a Bad Father that Wyll himself will inevitably be a Bad Lover because surely no one could match love with duty if his father couldn't, unknowing he has more love in one hand than his father had in his entire body. fuck

[nethhiri]

Siren Charms

Zoro x Siren!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of blood, drinking blood, eating people

Prologue/ Lore:

For the purposes of this story, the concept of siren is a combination of a mermaid and a harpy. The siren is a shapeshifting humanoid creature with an appetite for flesh to fuel its transformations. They can appear as a winged humanoid, a mermaid, or a winged mermaid. As long as the siren has fed, it is able to transform at will. The flesh of other creatures is metabolized into energy that feeds stem cells to rapidly divide and turn into the wings and/or tail of the siren. When the appendages are damaged severely, they remain damaged until the next transformation. The blood and saliva of sirens can be used to promote rapid healing.

As the siren is an entity of the ocean, devil fruit users taste horrible to them and will make them sick if they consume their blood or flesh. Sirens are very rare, thought of only as a myth. They are beings that have split off from Fish-men and are thought to have the blood of Lunarians flowing through them, hence the ability to form wings and a tail. They do not possess the abilities to control water or flame as the Fish-men or Lunarians do. However, they do possess superhuman strength, senses, and durability. In the water, they are faster than a Fish-man. Both of these things aiding in their capability as a top tier predator.

In addition to shapeshifting into a harpy or mermaid-like form, they can force themselves to appear more human, without sharp teeth or nails. Though to an experienced eye, their canine teeth appear much sharper than a normal human, even when they attempt to blend in. A siren normally has slitted pupils and varied shades of yellow to orange irises, but can make them appear rounder and more green so as not to alarm their prey. If using any of their siren 'powers', it is extremely difficult to hide these features.

Sirens are very beautiful by nature, thought to have evolved the shapeshifting traits in order to lure their three favorite types of prey, humans, Fish-men, and Lunarians. Often it is said that their voices have hypnotic powers over any being that hears them, though it is more of a suggestion than full-blown mind control. Pheromones given off by the skin of a siren and their mysterious aura only improve the efficacy of the hypnosis.

Sirens are found only in the New World, in very secluded areas. They are extremely territorial and only come together to reproduce. It is unknown if they can reproduce with other races.

(Starts at the tail end of Thriller Bark)

Chapter 1: Prey

What was that irresistible smell? 

Inky black wings cut through the foggy, damp, air. You had been flying around aimlessly for some time before being swallowed by fog. Echoes of a battle sounded somewhere in the distance, originally luring you in this general direction. But then, oh, but then! Then there was this intoxicating stench that pulled you, reeled you in. It had been days since you last ate and you were so hungry. The scent alone was making saliva pool in your mouth and causing your teeth to sharpen in anticipation. It was getting stronger as the wind carried you closer and closer. You heard bits of a conversation, the words chopped up by the changing winds. The fog broke as you descended into the treetops. Silently and gracefully, you landed on the side of a tree, holding a branch to keep you steady. 

You pulled your goggles onto your forehead so you could look with your naked eyes. Below you, there was a scarlet red stain on the ground, like a giant had wounded the earth. The sharp iron essence made your mind hazy with bloodlust. Focusing further, you saw two men standing in the center of the stain. One was frantic and yelling. The other was standing completely still. The second man seemed to be the source of this red stain. Your eyes widened. It shouldn't be possible for someone to be standing with that much blood loss. You would know. You were experienced in helping people lose blood, an expert even. The first man, a blond, half-carried the other away from the scene. 

When some time had passed and you could safely investigate, you swooped from the tree to alight on the surface. It was more than you had anticipated. There was no way that man would survive. Which was a shame, since this was the delectable scent you had honed in on. A clawed finger ran through still-wet blood that had collected in a divet on a stone. You admired the way the liquid ruby substance clung to your finger, refusing to drip to the ground. It was starting to clot and dry. Your pupils turned into slits when you popped your finger into your mouth. So good. It might be the best you'd tasted. No wonder the smell alone had you in its clutches. If it was this tasty after sitting, you got goosebumps thinking about how good it would be fresh from the source. 

Flitting from tree to tree, you maintained cover, following the trail of blood leading to your prey. You frowned when you saw that he was surrounded by his comrades. There was no way to get close. But you were patient. They were having some kind of celebration. All you had to do was wait until they were completely drunk and stuffed full of food and they would pass right out, which is exactly what happened. 

Under night's cover, with snoring all around you, you silently stalked between sleeping bodies to get to your target. He had been bandaged up and was surprisingly still alive. The pulse of his heart softly thumped in your ears. It sounded poor. You took inventory of the man: mint-green hair, tan skin, broad shoulders, muscular, and he had swords lying next to him. The sickly tone to his skin told you that he scarcely had blood enough to power his vital organs. You could receive instant gratification by draining the rest, put him out of his misery. It would be quick. Another thought punctuated that one. Or, you could bet on him. He looked strong. Maybe he could pull through with some help. Then you could really savor him and take your time draining him dry. The doctor that patched him up was clearly skilled. The gluttonous side of you decided to take a chance. 

Kneeling by his head, you brought your wrist to your mouth, drawing a red line down it with your teeth. A voice that sounded like many soft voices speaking at once left your mouth, "Open." The man's lips parted slightly, enough for you to let the blood run down your hand into his mouth. "Swallow." When you thought he had had enough, you closed the wound on your skin with a slow drag of your tongue. The super-powered blood running through your veins would jump start his body into making more of his own. You gently pushed his chin up to close his mouth, sliding your clawed fingers tenderly along his jawline. You hadn't noticed before how handsome he was. A plus. His heartbeat slowed, but became stronger. A good sign compared to the shallow, rapid beat that he had had before. 

With a leap into the air and one strong downstroke of your oil-slick colored wings, you disappeared into the foggy sky once more.

[salty-an-disco]

[Approach the mirror]

...

It's You.

Something finds me in The Long Quiet, and brings me the gift of a fragile vessel.

It approaches me. Feathers cover its eyes. It cannot see me, and I cannot see it.

And something else. Something that seems similar to me, though not familiar. It occupies a space that isn’t occupied either by me or you.

It speaks words to me. I’m sorry, I don’t understand them. Though we are similar, we speak in different dialects.

You though. Though you don’t speak, your words are the same as mine. I can understand them. Can you understand Him?

I see.

These stories help widen my horizons and fill the creeks within my knowledge. And may yet make this language He speaks on known to me.

This one is short and sweet. She doesn't know anything of the world other than the kindness and mercy you showed her. Her hopefulness and curiosity born out of inexperience is something that'll never leave her. She will make for an open heart.

Do not mourn her. Her story has only begun.

[francesderwent]

so full of insane manic wedding prep energy that I...wrote 1100 words of my novel??

[missmitchieg]

I'm annoyed because I know we all want canon Jemily but at the same time, you all know it's gonna be written stupidly and just leave us pissed off and forced to write fix it fics constantly, which is what you guys have already been doing the entire time so it would be like nothing really changed.