#anyways yeah i have problems i think?

[clownkillsyou]

YOURE LIKE ME. i keep my tabs around far too long and theres too many of them but theyre part of me now. i cant just let them go

yeah deadass theres some tabs that i had open for so long by the time i came back to them they were dead links 😭 like either it was someone who deactivated on that site or the site itself is gone

[rystiel]

i keep seeing people say the doctor shouldn’t have feelings for rogue because he’s married to river…? river song… who has also married multiple people… one of the most polyamorous characters in the show…?

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 2

these snippets aren't connected in anyway but just some little scenes I came up with, everyone is welcome to build up on them if they want to

Trigger warning: death mentioned, self-harm mentioned, idk, Danny gets flashback to portal incident

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 3 (?)

Out, out, out.

He tripped over his own legs and almost fell and it didn’t matter because he needed to get out. 

Away, away, away. 

He wasn’t sure if he ran or flew or dragged himself on the rough floor but he had to get away. His back hit a wall and he couldn’t get past it, intangibility just out of his grasp.

He logically knew that Zeta Tube wasn't the same as the portal but it was similar. So deadly similar.

He wasn’t sure when his own, corps-like, trembling with rigor mortis cold hands started rubbing his arms. He also wasn’t sure whether it was to comfort himself in this lonely self-hug or to try to rub hard enough that the hazmat and skin underneath would be torn, allowing him to see his own, red blood running in his veins. It was still red, right? It was still red, right? Of course it was still running, why wouldn’t it?

His knees gave up. He fell to the ground with quiet reverbatting thump, his eyes fixated on danger at the other side of the large room. He had to get further away but he couldn’t.

Because he was dying again.

Eyes full of tears and terror were jumping around, unable to see the room around him. Why couldn’t he see anything? Why were there only splashes of various colors, all contrasting with a light gray background. Were these people? Colors were moving, that seemed likely. Ghosts?! He had to get ready if these were ghosts he needed to fight them. People could be in danger and he couldn’t even stand without support. He started it, he had to take care of it, no matter how he felt right now.

His normally overly, unnaturally sensitive ears were filled with constant electric buzz from still active Zeta Tubes.

He was quite sure someone was yelling something but no matter what, Danny couldn’t understand what was being said. He tried looking around again but his teary eyes still failed him. There were no red stains though. Not in the right shade at least. No one was bleeding. It was okay for now.

Was it really? He hadn’t bled when he was dying had his accident though. It was all inside him, the crushing hollowness inside him and infinite outside pressure making his body implode. Ectoplasm bubbling in his mouth, throat, stomach and fingers, silencing his scream of agony and destroying his muscles. His limbs were limp and tense, twitching like a broken light bulb, out of his control but not out of his senses. It was so cold that it bit his bones and so hot that his skin was melting. There were screams so loud that it could shatter glass, as if every inhabitant of the Ghost Zone wanted to be heard and absolute suffocating silence. He was alone like nobody ever was and stuck in a stifling crowd that could stomp him to death any second. It was all contrasting, impossible but happening, existing together. He lived died it.

It was impossible, just like him.

There were others, they could help while Danny got himself together.

They couldn’t help if it was a ghost. He had to calm down and get ready to fight.

He couldn’t.

It was all happening again.

He was dying again.

It hurt to even think about.

Would it at least kill him for good?

Air he hadn’t needed before, not since his first death he always needed, like all functioning, alive human beings, got stuck in his lungs. He was gasping for it, choking on it. There was something stuck in his throat. SOme part of his brain that wasn’t screaming in agony and panic and loneliness had considered tearing his neck open just to get whatever was stuck swallowing but it didn’t help. 

He rubbed his arms harder. His eyes were locked on a blurred, still active portal. One of the color blobs moved, growing larger but he couldn’t think about what it meant. His arms hurt. It was good. Pain was grounding. In a gray room with few portals. Not the basement. Ghosts still could be there but it wasn't a basement. He still needed to get ready to fight

If he could feel pain, it meant he was alive, right? Ghosts never showed that they felt pain right? His parents always said they couldn’t.

He knew it was a lie but he felt like it was his last hope.

He realized that growing group of colors actually looked like a person but he had no way to tell whether they were alive or not. His ghost sense was quiet but he didn’t trust himself to not miss it. His throat was still shut tightly. His body kept twitching like a glitching character. No matter what, he couldn’t fight right then. He had to get himself together.

He scratched his arms almost violently.

Warm, soft, gentle hands pried his palms away from his arms. It wasn't a ghost. Ghosts weren't this gentle, this calmingly warm. Someone, someone who was alive, was crouching in front of him, face at the same level as his, hiding portals from his sight. Danny nearly sunk into their gentle touch.

“-om." their voice also was so gentle, filled with concern but firm enough to get to him over the buzz of portals. He tried to concentrate on this voice. He didn't want to hear portals.

"-ntom." It sounded like they were calling someone. He had to focus more to understand. Gentle grip on his wrists got more firm. There he was. He wouldn't feel it if he was dying again.

"Phantom." They called quietly, like little windbells Sam gave him as a birthday present. It was his name, they were asking him something he couldn't understand, something he couldn't do.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure if any sound came out of his mouth.

Grip on his hands loosened a little, not enough for him to do anything about it, but enough to return to the pure feeling of safety and reassurance it gave him before.

“It's okay Phantom." they murmured. Danny nearly cried at their kindness and calmness. Air slowly started to fill his lungs again. It truly was okay, he wasn't dying again."Can you focus on five things you can see for me?"

He could do it. It wasn't much to repay the gentle person kneeling in front of him.

He blinked tears away and started the list in his head.

Black Canary in front of him.

Superboy in the middle of the room. He looked like he didn't know what to do.

Kid Flash next to him, ready to come to where Danny was shaking on the floor.

Robin and Artemis both made sure that Kid stayed where he was.

Miss Martian for sure feeling his panic and having trouble coping with this. He should calm down as soon as he can, he didn't want to cause any of his teammates too much stress.

Danny nodded, looking once again at the only adult hero in the room.

Molecules in his body were rearranging again. It all hurt.

"Thank you Phantom. Can you focus on four things you can hear?"

Five racing heartbeats.

One heartbeat that sounded more like buzz because of its speed. KF's heart was always weird.

Tapping of someone's feet.

Zeta Tubes.

He had been in the portal again, it had turned on with him inside again. He was dying again.

Next cautious nod.

"Alright. Now three things you can touch." Black Canary still sounded so calm, so sure she had it all under control. So contrary to her panicked heart. Danny wanted to believe her voice.

Canary's hands still on his wrists. In fact she was touching him more than he was her, but it still counted. There was some physics rule about it.

Cold stone he was sitting on. Weird, he was sure this cave was heated.

Hard wall pressing on his spine.

"Excellent. Two things you can smell?"

Jazz had done same exercise with him before.

Cookies made by Megan before she went on a mission.

Ectoplasm. Somewhere there was ectoplasm that wasn't inside him. He couldn't smell his own ecto. But there was no ghost in the cave. His sense was silent. It was there somehow else. It was concerning but not enough to make him panic again. They could handle it.

His lungs were still aching but air started filling them nearly as much as it did normally. His limbs stopped shaking so much too. He knew he wasn't dying this time. He was calming down.

"You're doing great Phantom. Now think, what's one thing you can taste?"

Aftertaste of ectoplasm he spat between the rough fight and the moment when Kid Flash rushed him to the nearest Zeta Tube, talking about medical attention. Danny tried to tell him, he didn't need that but he was inside before his explanation left his mouth.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," It was all he was able to say at the moment. He truly felt better but that didn't mean good. It was only a little less bad than shitty, one step from fully dead.

I considered writing continuation with Danny explaining a bit what happened and how he even ended up in Zeta Tube but a) lost spark to rewrite it b) hated what already had But if you want, I can probably rub my remaining two braincels together and continue. Or someone else can. Do it if you want to. Do it. Do it

[dizzybevvie]

No bc Warrior Cats genuinely couldve done something with Starclan and generational trauma and romanticising "old times" and the warrior code because Starclan arent deities theyre just dead people but instead we get another 6 books of Will They/Wont They with a TigerStar clone

[kacievvbbbb]

The gag is Zoro and Shanks aren’t that different. Zoro is also completely reckless with his body less so now but I have no doubt that even now if he needed to cut off any part of his body to win, to save his crew he would do it without hesitation just like shanks.

And the thing is Mihawk would still fight him as long as Zoro can pick up a sword Mihawk would still fight him and relish in it.

Zoro loses an eye, Mihawk still trains him.

And Shanks…..Shanks loses his mind a little bit

[bmpmp3]

finding out ur coworker is way older than you thought and having to very quickly reorient how you talk to them

[kitthew]

i think the reason that kaos is such a successful adaptation, despite being so inaccurate to the myths, it’s that it’s so new, fresh, and entertaining

like, there isn’t one canonical Greek Myth. there are, of course, surviving texts from the era—homer, euripides, aeschlyus, etc. — but those are only what have *survived,* there are countless other myths and ancient retellings that have been lost to time. besides, even between the original myths, there are discrepancies and different interpretations. the myths originated in an oral storytelling tradition, and with each teller, the stories were different. sure, there were some things that stayed consistent throughout the retellings, but almost every myth has elements that varied across sources.

you could always argue that even though that might be true, they could have based the show more on less common myth alternatives that still have sources from the time period, but i personally think the fact that they’re kind of doing their own thing is literally just what the ancient greeks were doing with their myths as well lol

plus, the reason successful greek plays *were* successful was that they told existing stories in a new and interesting light. sure, it was more of a “no one goes to the theatre to find out what happens next, they go to hear how the writer is telling the myth in a new and interesting way” sort of vibe, and kaos *does* have an element of watching bc you don’t know what happens next bc so much has been changed from the original myths, but again, i think this is basically just what the greeks were doing. when something originated in an oral storytelling tradition, there isn’t One Definitive Way to retell it. kaos takes a lot of creative liberties with the source material, but there’s always room for new interpretations and ways of telling these stories

BUT the show is imo so engaging and successful despite all that bc it really gets at the heart of the myths, even though, again, it isn’t at all accurate. zeus is cruel, power-crazed, and incestuous. dionysus is literally just a boy. hera is trying so so hard to be a GirlBoss. hades and persephone are the only ones who seem to have their shit together. poseidon is a douche on a yacht. there’s some incredibly interesting and compelling world building. and at its core, the show is about two things: 1) the gods are human and fallible and 2) you cannot outrun your fate, no matter how hard you try.

and what’s more greek than that?

[tricoufamily]

reagan smith - MISSING - last seen xx/xx/xxxx

[crimsongrimoire]

my boys. i miss them

[whatwooshkai]

Gimme a number 5! :D

Chase's face is contorted in badly disguised panic as he stands there, finials practically brushing the lights on his back, waiting for instruction.

Charlie tries desperately not to laugh, coughing into his fist. "I am so sorry," he says, voice strained, as Mayor Luskey forces his way out of the car, fuming.

"BURNS!" he snarls, his toupee slightly askew, and he nearly trips over the grappler as he storms up to him. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"

"So sorry," Charlie repeats, noticing that Chase has started nervously wringing his hands. "The police bot noticed your car was going above the speed limit and wasn't responding to the flashing lights, so he- uh, the AI, I mean- took the next logical step." He gestures at the scene. "Hence the grappler."

Chase had deployed it without asking, and Charlie hadn't even known what happened until the mayor's car had suddenly stopped and started swerving in front of them, caught in a trap of yellow nylon webbing.

"Well- well- fix it!" Mayor Luskey turns on his poor chauffeur and starts shouting again, and Charlie notices the slight sigh of relief from Chase as the attention is taken off them.

"Police bot," Charlie orders, biting back his smile, "fix this please."

"Yes sir," Chase says, sounding much less confident than usual.

-------------------------------

"I didn't even know you had a grappler," Charlie pipes up as they roll into the firehouse's driveway. "My last patrol car sure didn't."

"It was equipment I had back on Cybertron," Chase explains as the garage door closes behind them, then transforms when Charlie steps out. "I just haven't had a reason to use it until now."

"Well, uh, good to know," Charlie says, patting his hands on his hips. "Just maybe ask first next time?"

"Of course," Chase hums, and his finials flatten against his helm.

"So, do you have any other equipment you're holding out on me?" Charlie continues teasingly, and Chase's finials cant back.

"No," he answers, sounding almost disappointed. "A question better suited for Heatwave. I have not seen him use any of his arsenal."

"Really?" They step on the lift together. Normally Charlie would go back upstairs, but now he's curious. "What kinds of equipment?"

"I'd imagine it's similar." Chase taps his foot against the ground as the lift starts down. "He's got a kit hand."

"What's that?"

"Heatwave!" Chase addresses the fire bot instead, who's up on one of the pillars with the training dummy.

"What?" he calls back, leaning against it.

Chase gestures to Charlie. "He's curious about your equipment."

Heatwave frowns. "...What equipment?"

"Your firefighting equipment. You hand." Chase gestures abstractly.

"Oh." Heatwave jumps down and Chase offers his hand to Charlie, who climbs into it, and he's deposited onto Chase's shoulder for a better view. "Most of it's only accessible in my alt mode, but I got a few things."

He sticks his forearm out and a panel retracts. "Winch," he says, gesturing at it. "Got them on both sides. And my hand's kit." His left hand retracts back into his forearm, and he transforms tools out in rapid succession, including but not limited to a sledgehammer, an axe, a halligan, and a chainsaw. His hand's back in a few moments, and he offers Charlie a shrug. "I don't really have a need for them. I can usually brute force my way through any of the emergencies you guys have."

"True," Charlie hums, "but it's good to know. Thank you."

Heatwave blinks, then nods, turning away and going back to his dummy. Charlie looks to Chase. "Do the others have equipment like that, or, uh, 'kit' hands?"

Chase's finial flicks. "Why don't we go ask?" he says, voice colored with an excited lilt.

Charlie gets the distinct impression he's being included on something important, but he can't even begin to be sure of what. So he just smiles, pats Chase on the cheek, and lets him take him to the others.

[blueskittlesart]

i’m so used to how you draw zelda that whenever i see someone else draw her it’s literally like. skinny person jumpscare.

literally being a fat zelda truther is so hard bc why do people insist on drawing the girl like she's never had a meal in her life. put some meat on her bones please god she is starving

[sampegger]

do you guys think the writers would have taken it more seriously if it had been alastair around relentlessly tormenting dean in late seasons as opposed to lucifer with sam

[ickypuppi3]

be mine.

billy sighs. rests his forehead against the cool metal of his locker. tries to ignore the hum of people talking around him. holding hands. cuddling. it’s a shitty day. it’s a shitty day and billy knew it was going to be a shitty day before it even started.

he knew because he had been the one to say it. yesterday. to tell steve that they’re not- that billy doesn’t need to be treated like a fucking girl. that they’re just screwing around. that he doesn’t give a shit if steve wants to fuck someone else today.

that steve might as well go crawling back to wheeler because billy sure as shit can’t hold his hand or call him sweetheart in the hallways. that he gets enough heat at home without the whole of hawkins high knowing how much of a queer billy hargrove is.

and then billy had walked off. slammed the door behind him and gone home. had picked a fight with neil just to top it off.

all because he was scared.

is scared. scared of steve harrington with his preppy fuckin’ polos and dumb hair. his pretty eyes and pretty smile and ability to tilt billy’s world on its axis just by looking at him. scared that steve will get bored of him. that he’ll realise billy isn’t worth the effort.

scared.

billy sighs again. shuffles back slightly and glares down as he twists the lock. the door swings open and billy is halfway to grabbing the book he needs when something falls out. a scrap of paper. no bigger than the palm of his hand. a note.

it lands on billy’s boot.

he looks around. wonders who had felt brave enough- dumb enough to shove a note through billy’s locker on a day like today. he bends down. picks it up. reads the words in front of him.

quarry, 9.

there’s a little heart scribbled on the top right hand corner. billy traces the familiar writing with a thumb. feels that all too familiar feeling in his chest. he clenches his fist. hears the crinkle of paper as he does.

then he looks up again. into his locker. really looks, this time.

a pack of marlboro reds lay on top of his books. unopened. new.

next to those, something smaller. candy, billy realises. a sweetheart, specifically. the words kiss me etched in pink.

billy smiles. can’t help it, really. it’s restrained. barely there. just a small twitch of his lips but a smile nonetheless. his first smile of the day. credit to steve fuckin’ harrington and his inability to leave well alone.

billy smooths the note out. places it next to the reds. next to the heart. tries to tamp down on the butterflies swarming in his chest. he takes a deep breath before stuffing the cigarettes and note into his pocket.

his hand hovers over the sweetheart.

“hey.”

billy pulls his hand back. fast. as if he’d been burned. he looks to his left. locks eyes with the boy now standing next to him. feels his heart stutter. “hey.”

steve gives him a knowing smile. “good day?”

“no.” billy frowns. you already knew that. “pretty shitty actually.”

steve leans. folds his arms. “that bad, huh?”

better now that you’re here. billy swallows. turns away from steve. back to his locker. “did you want something, harrington?”

“nah, just..” steve smirks. reaches out. billy feels his breath hitch. steve’s smile gets wider. he flicks billy’s earring. once. before turning on his heel with a see you around thrown billy’s way.

a promise. something deeper to them but. casual. friendly to anyone watching.

billy watches him leave. wonders if steve might be okay with them having to do things differently. wonders if this might be enough for steve. for them. wonders if he could be enough for steve. hopes-

billy jumps when the bell rings.

-

they meet up later. at the quarry like steve had said. neil under the assumption that billy’s seeing some girl. steve’s parents likely thinking the same.

billy feels as though a weight has been lifted as soon him and steve tumble into the back of the beemer. all cold hands and fumbling with belts. awkward limbs and steamed up windows. and billy lets it happen. lets himself be held. lets steve be sweet to him.

billy lets it happen. finds himself thinking that today might not be all bad. and that he might be more than a little bit in love with steve harrington. he pushes the second thought down. focuses on winding a hand into steve’s hair and sucking a mark into the soft skin just below his jaw, instead.

not all bad.

-

later finds them huddled under a blanket in the back of steve's beemer. sharing a cigarette. marlboro. red. steve nudges billy after a few minutes. doesn't say anything just. nudges him. billy tilts his head to the side. gives steve a look. steve just looks down as his hand finds billy's under the blanket.

then he presses something small into the palm of billy’s hand.

billy raises an eyebrow in question but steve’s already looking away. staring out into the night. cigarette glowing in the dark. billy rolls his eyes. wiggles his arm free and holds the object up to the window to get a better look.

be mine.

he laughs. loudly. tries to hide the racing of his heart. calls steve a fuckin' cheese. and a sweetheart. waits until steve turns to face him again before pressing the candy to steve's lips and pulling him in to exchange kisses that are almost too soft. too sweet for whatever this is. whatever they agreed for this to be.

steve pulls back first. whispers against billy’s lips “hey, baby?”

“yeah?”

“happy valentine’s day.”

“…yeah.”

almost.

steve grins and reaches out to play with one of billy’s curls. billy laces their fingers together under the blanket.

or maybe it’s just right.

[hypervoxel]

Oh, so, like, the entire first season's establishment of the characters and their interactions don't actually matter in Helluva Boss. Okay, cool.

Like, I get that characterization develops over time and the writers come up with new ideas and places they want to take the story, but. So much of the Stolas/Blitzø stuff recently isn't character development: it's retconning.

[necrotic-nephilim]

If you want to be bothered. Maybe this for dick and Bruce???

i ALWAYS want to be bothered these are always the highlight of my day tbh you're a delight for letting me just yap <3

Dick. For the canon isn't real square I am Specifically talking about the Tom Taylor Nightwing run. Usually I ignore bad runs but given this one is ongoing (though about to end THANK GOD and get replaced by Dan Watters who i have high hopes for since i adored his Sword of Azrael (2022) run but i digress) so I counted it. Especially since it's so debated if that run is bad or not, for some reason. I'm a 90s Nightwing truther. I love Dick so dearly and tbh recently I've been more enamored with him the more I read his Discowing era, I didn't used to be as big of a Dick stan as I am these days.

Bruce. Honestly where do you even start with Bruce. I want to fist fight him and also patch him up. He got me into comics and superheroes as a whole but I roll my eyes whenever he shows up in a story. He's a bastard and usually not a good father but also complex and should be dissected under a magnifying glass. I love him dearly. He's also just the worst. I think that's why I love him. I'm always a fan of unabashedly Complicated Asshole Bruce who's generally not always the best person, particularly not to the Batfamily and that being the driving force of his relationships with them, especially in shipping.

And for bonus points, Tim. Because know above all else, I'm a Tim Drake kinnie /deg. He's been my number one for a decade and I've yet to uproot him from my brain. He's literally the Worst half the time and I love him for it. And the canon isn't real refers to Tim Drake: Robin because... that sure was a comic. And that's about all I can say about it. Pre-Flashpoint Tim I miss you so dearly. I think it's fun that I want to put him in a blender and drink the juice but also want Nothing Ever to happen to him.

[b0nkcentral]

he is stanced up!!!!!