for no reason in particular i am suddenly in the mood to draw callie sloppily make out with one of her many many gfs while having big man cheer her on in the background
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Y’all, the Archive admins are made up of VOLUNTEERS. And they have been working for 12-13 HOURS STRAIGHT.
I better not hear any complaints when donation period comes around. OR ELSE.
cosplay by @woahchriswoah on Twitter
EDIT: How do we show appreciation to the volunteers? For me reading these deep dives on OTW issues u guys apparently it's been said multiple times that one of their objective statements is to have paid staff for ao3 and there's a surplus of donations they haven't used up or the other community solutions that needs to address. For those more financially literate feel free to analyze, snipe me or add to the discussion etc. linked here by deepa. They’re cool and these yearly analysis they did aint no joke.
But Seriously what can we do for these volunteers? The probable burn out from this entire fiasco would be no joke. @ao3org
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Honestly, Eddie doesn’t know why it had taken so long for him to realize his and Steve’s children could understand the shit that came out of his mouth.
(It took an embarrassingly long amount of time).
Even when Moe’s third or fourth word was fuck, he didn’t realize it (and she was using it mostly correctly too, which should have been a serious flag, but nope).
What made him realize it was when they started repeating the shit that came out of his mouth.
To strangers.
In public.
The first time Eddie had been really caught off guard by something one of his daughters said was when Moe, who was three at the time, had proudly announced to an unsuspecting grocery store cashier, “Daddy says my Papa’s a DILF!”
And, like, Eddie had just heard the term for the first time, and obviously he was goddamn delighted by it because…duh. Steve.
It just hadn’t occurred to him that his toddler might have caught it too, but little pitchers have big ears, or so the proverb suggests, and Eddie had taken it as a wake-up call that Moe isn’t a baby anymore (tragic as it may be).
He’s not the only problem though – Steve is just as bad, (if not worse, because he really doesn’t bother to check where their kids are before he starts running his mouth).
One particularly damning incident was at a restaurant, which is something they don’t even do all that often because, seriously, going to a restaurant with very young kids should be an Olympic event or something.
(The last time they all went out to eat, Nancy and Robin had made a drinking game out of all the times Steve and Eddie had to take a child to the bathroom and ended up so far gone that Eddie had needed to drive them home).
The incident started with the waitress asking, “Can I get you started with anything to drink?”
And it had ended with four-year-old Moe confidently announcing, “My Papa needs a fucking margarita.”
Thank god, the waitress had been a twenty-something college student and thought it was hilarious, but Steve had still been completely mortified.
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Prompt 169
Danny is from a world where everyone has wings, even if most have long since lost the ability to fly. Something about loading and aspect ratio, wings being too small, body too heavy, now mostly used as display, whatever.
It doesn’t matter even if he had blueprints from when he was like six of a jetpack to help fly. It won’t work anyway and hey, he has his ghost form! Which uh, might be perhaps, affecting his wings which were maybe sort of scorched black and practically down to the bone thanks to the accident.
It doesn’t matter, he swears. Though he’s admittedly relieved to see the new feathers growing in are different from Dan’s angry sunset. Even if they’re not even supposed to be able to grow back. Alright, this is fine, no one is going to notice! It’s not like everyone knows about the poor Fenton kid whose wings were absolutely destroyed thanks to an accident! It’s fine.
He’s not flying in a half-panic towards the Far Frozen while crying because his wings are coming back and he’s so scared. He didn’t panic and instantly fled the moment Jazz pointed them out while changing the bandages.
He definitely didn’t trip over something while wiping away said tears and blacking out from all the stress and all of his problems that he definitely mentioned to someone and isn’t keeping a secret. Definitely.
Hawkwoman and Hawkman would like everyone to know that neither of them were expecting a very small child to be spat out of the villain of that week’s machine that should definitely not be a portal. A very small child, maybe nine or ten, with a multitude of concerning wounds both old and fresh. Which isn’t even beginning to touch on the wings.
Feathered, like baby down despite the gnarled scars, unlike their own metallic, with the beginning of tiny specklings like stars amidst the darker fuzz peeking from the wounded flesh.
Who?! Who dared?! It’s (at least to the forever reincarnating duo) a literal baby! They still have down! Tiny baby fuzz! Was it the portal?! Oh this villain is going to taste their maces for causing this if that’s the case!
The rest of the Justice League would honestly like to know what just happened and are honestly unsure on if they should stop the two…
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