#doesn’t have to be interpreted like that though

[demigod-shenanigans]

I’ve had a convo about the teasing line with another person in the replies before, but that’s not how I personally interpret it! Leo pointing out Jason doesn't tease him is something that’s very specific to this situation because it’s a situation he feels vulnerable/embarrassed about due to past experiences. It’s not that Leo minds teasing in general. Leo teases people all the time and also makes fun of himself plenty as a coping mechanism. It’s normal that other people will tease him back a little in return, and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Plenty of friendships include mutual teasing, and that’s fine as long as it’s not malicious and you know what boundaries not to cross (General example here: I feel like Piper may joke about Leo being married to his tools because he disappears into the workshop so much (which is a joke I can even see Leo leaning into for the bit), but she wouldn't stark cracking jokes about his mom, for obvious reasons.)

Leo has teasing relationships with a lot of people. And that’s not a bad thing. But joking things off is kind of his thing. Leo isn’t usually the guy who goes “hey, don’t joke about specific thing X because it’s something I feel insecure about or have made bad experiences with in the past”. He would probably much rather explode himself a second time. And him not talking about his past experiences outside of jokes (in this specific case: the bad experiences he made at foster homes), there’s no way for other people to know this is something he feels insecure about. Him laying there hugging a statue probably did look kind of ridiculous. If someone else had walked in and made a joke about it, it probably wouldn’t have been with malicious intent.

But Jason can read Leo better than anyone else does. He picks up on his insecurities and his coping mechanisms and small changes in his behavior that no one else notices. (My favorite example of this: the fact that, post-Calypso, Jason immediately picks up on the fact that something is wrong with Leo because he’s not fidgeting and he remembers Leo doesn’t drink coffee so him drinking coffee now strikes him as weird/concerning. And then he also immediately knows Leo won’t want to have that conversation in front of the others, so he decides to pull him aside later, when they’re alone.)

And like, considering past experiences, the fact that Jason can read Leo like that should terrify him. He deflects and doesn’t talk about stuff because he can’t stand to be vulnerable in front of other people. But Jason sees him. And he treats him gently. And he doesn’t have to be told which boundaries not to cross (which, in some cases, are stuff Leo just isn’t ready to verbally get into) because he knows Leo well enough that he’s able to tell without Leo having to say anything at all. And it’s a relief. It’s comforting. Leo likes having a person who just sees him and can tell when he’s having a vulnerable moment without him having to admit it out loud. (So, yeah, I do think that bit is gay as hell, I don’t think it fundamentally means all of Leo’s other friends are garbage, though.)

The bit where Leo is describing Jason is even funnier because in Mark of Athena Leo had a section where he’s narrating going “I usually don’t pay attention to the way guys look, probably because I hang out with Jason”. Followed immediately by a description of what Jason looks like and how girls don’t notice him because Jason is being so attractive in his general vicinity. I adore this little train wreck bisexual.

Leo. Genuine question. How much time did you spend staring at Jason’s lips to figure that one out?

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ [ch.6] for when you're still with me

Songs on the charts, sold-out shows, the kind of career most musicians dream about—everything’s perfect. But success doesn’t fill the emptiness. And then, just when you think you’ve moved on—there he is. Your past, standing in front of you like a love song you never finished.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — park jongseong x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 2.1k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, jay x reader, estranged exes to lovers, famous singer!reader because we're built like that, is this angst? i have no clue, memories of your past together just hits hard ughhhh, jay has a new lover omg the drama-mama-mamah, you are dramatic as hell but we love you for you, you are insane to still think of him, i understand though you are in love with jay we see each other WE SEE EACH OTHER, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, mentions and use of alcoholic substances, also AHH VIOLENCE IN THIS ONE, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

The hospital lights buzzed overhead, too bright, too sterile.

The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, sharp enough to make your eyes water—or maybe that was the pain medication dripping into your veins through the IV taped to your arm.

Leah’s arm was a steady anchor around your waist as you hobbled down the hallway, your legs trembling with every step. The gunshot wound in your side burned with each movement, a searing reminder of the night’s horrors.

“How does it even feel?” Leah asked as she continued to help you out, walking alongside you,

“Girl,” you sighed. “You don’t wanna get shot.”

Leah chuckled, “I mean like, was it really—”

“It burnt like HELL!” You scoffed. “It was like skewing me with a hot rod in like … 0.5 seconds or something.”

In the middle of your small banter, you could see the people recognizing your face as you moved along the corridor.

“They’re—”

“Definitely.” Leah answered. “You’ve been in the news for 2 hours.”

“2 hours?” You grew surprised, not realizing the gravity of the events that unfolded and how much of a headline it really was.

And then you saw it.

The news played on the television mounted in the corner of the lobby, the volume raised and the headlines screaming loud enough:

— AND STILL CONFIRMED, FORMER ATLAS RECORDS CEO APPREHENDED IN MANHUNT – ARMED AND DANGEROUS AFTER HIS INCIDENT WITH—

A grainy surveillance photo filled the screen—Mr. M, disheveled, his tailored suit now wrinkled and bloodstained, being shoved into a police cruiser.

Leah sucked in a breath. “Justice,” she murmured.

You stared at the screen, your fingers tightening around the IV pole until your knuckles turned white.

“No,” you whispered. “Not until Jay’s awake.”

But even then—would it ever really be enough?

—

Jay’s hospital room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

The curtains were drawn, casting the space in a muted blue-gray light, and for a moment, you just stood there, leaning against the doorframe, taking him in.

Now that you took a good look at it. he looked smaller in the hospital bed, swallowed by crisp white sheets, his blond hair tousled against the pillow.

His face was paler than usual, the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones more pronounced in the dim light. But even now—even like this—he was unfairly handsome. That glow of his, the one that had made your stomach flip the first time you’d seen him across a crowded lecture hall, hadn’t faded. If anything, time had only honed his features, cutting away the last traces of boyish softness until all that remained was this—a man who could make your breath catch with just a glance.

You limped forward, biting back a wince as you sank into the chair beside his bed.

God, how many times had it been the other way around?

The memories rushed in—thick, syrupy, suffocating in their sweetness.

There was Jay, perched on the edge of your dorm bed, the springs creaking under his weight as he leaned over you. His fingers—always so warm, always so sure—pressed a cold compress to your forehead, the damp cloth smelling faintly of lavender. You’d stolen it from the communal laundry room, and he’d scolded you for it, but here he was, using it anyway.

“Stop squirming,” he muttered, his voice low, amused. His free hand pinned your wrist to the mattress when you tried to swat him away. “You’re burning up.”

You whined something incoherent about the flu being unfair, about how the world had it out for you, and Jay exhaled through his nose, that half-laugh he reserved for when you were being ridiculous. “Yeah, yeah. The universe personally decided to ruin your week. Tragic.”

But he stayed. Even when the dorm heater rattled like it was on its last legs, even when your roommate barged in with her latest fling and gave the two of you a raised eyebrow—Jay stayed. He propped you up against his chest to force cough syrup down your throat, his palm warm against your back. You gagged at the cloying artificial cherry taste, and he rolled his eyes.

“Drama queen,” he said. But his thumb brushed your jaw after, slow, apologetic.

And then there were the nights.

The nights when the nightmares came, when you shot upright in bed, gasping, sweat-slick and shaking. Before you could even choke out his name, the mattress dipped beside you. Jay’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, his heartbeat steady under your ear. His voice was rough with sleep, his breath warm against your temple.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, like a vow.

Like it was that simple.

Like he always would.

Your fingers hovered over his hand, afraid to touch. Afraid not to.

Then—

A knock.

You turned as the door creaked open, and there she was.

Naomi.

Her usually pristine blazer was wrinkled, her ponytail slightly frayed, and her eyes—her eyes were swollen, red-rimmed from crying. But when she saw Jay, her breath hitched, and for a second, she was just a woman in love, staring at the man who’d shattered her heart.

You didn’t think. You just reached out, catching her hand as she stepped closer.

“He’s going to be okay,” you said softly.

Naomi’s fingers trembled in yours before she squeezed back, her grip steadying. She swallowed hard, then nodded, her gaze never leaving Jay’s face.

The silence between you wasn’t empty—it was full.

Full of the steady, mechanical beep of the heart monitor, counting seconds neither of you knew how to claim. Full of the antiseptic hospital air, too clean, too sterile for the mess of emotions tangled between you. Full of the weight of Jay’s stillness, the rise and fall of his chest almost mocking in its steadiness when everything else felt fractured.

Then Naomi exhaled—long and slow, like she’d been holding her breath for years—and turned to face you fully. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry, her lawyer’s composure a thin veil over something far more vulnerable.

“I knew,” she admitted. Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the room like a blade.

“About Jay and you.”

Your chest tightened, your fingers curling into the stiff fabric of the hospital chair.

How much? you wanted to ask. How long? But the words stuck in your throat, heavy with guilt.

Naomi didn’t wait for a response.

She reached out, her fingers absently straightening the edge of Jay’s blanket, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. A nervous habit, you realized. Something to do with her hands so they wouldn’t shake.

“I saw the way he’d go quiet when your songs came on,” she continued, her tone detached, as if she were reciting evidence in a courtroom rather than confessing the ruin of her own heart. “Like he was afraid if he moved too fast, the moment would break. Like if he breathed wrong, he’d forget how you sounded.”

A sharp ache pierced your ribs. You remembered that, too—the way Jay would freeze mid-laugh if your voice floated through a café speaker, his smile fading into something private, painful.

Naomi’s thumb brushed over the hem of the blanket, her voice softening. “He kept that stupid festival wristband in his wallet until the ink rubbed off. Did you know that?” She huffed a humorless laugh. “It was just a scrap of fabric, but he treated it like it was worth something. Like it meant something.”

You swallowed hard. You knew just how much he liked to treasure trinkets and small things.

“And the way he lingered—” Her breath hitched, just once, before she steadied herself. “On your music. On your name in a conversation. On every little thing that reminded him of you.”

She finally looked up, her gaze piercing. “I’m a lawyer. I know how to read people. And Jay?” She shook her head, a sad, knowing smile tilting her lips.

“He was never mine.”

The admission hung between you, fragile and devastating.

“Naomi, I—” Your voice cracked, raw with regret. “I’m sorry.”

She held up a hand, stopping you. “Don’t.” The word wasn’t sharp—just final.

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t his.” She shrugged, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did.

“It was just... love.” A pause. “And love doesn’t always make sense.”

The lump in your throat threatened to choke you.

Love didn’t make sense—no, it didn’t. It didn’t explain why Jay had fought so hard to stay away from you, only to hold on tighter in the quiet. It didn’t explain why Naomi, brilliant and fierce Naomi, was standing here now, offering you absolution instead of hatred.

It didn’t explain why, even now, your gaze kept flickering back to Jay’s face—searching for the crease between his brows that appeared when he was annoyed, the twitch of his lips before a smirk. As if he might wake up and laugh this all off.

As if any of this could be laughed off.

Naomi reached into her bag, pulling out a bottle of water. She unscrewed the cap and handed it to you, her fingers steady.

“I brought water,” she murmured, handing you a bottle.

A peace offering. A truce.

You took it, the plastic cool against your palm, and tried not to think about how Jay always did the same thing—twisting open bottles before passing them to you, never letting you struggle with the seal.

“Thank you.”

Some habits outlived even the longest silences.

Naomi straightened, rolling her shoulders back like she was stepping into a courtroom. Her softness from before was gone, replaced by something sharp and unshakable. She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a sleek black business card, holding it out to you.

“Which brings me to my next point.” Her voice was calm but left no room for argument. “I’m representing you. Pro bono.”

You stared at the card, then back at her. “What?”

Her lips thinned. “The records. The exposé. Everything Atlas did to you behind closed doors.” She held your gaze, unflinching. “I’ll be your lawyer.” A pause. “But there’s one condition.”

Your fingers tightened around the card. You just have this hunch that Naomi would never make empty deals.

Whatever she was about to ask—it would cost you.

And she didn’t hesitate.

“Love him,” she said, simple as a fact. “As much as he loves you. Maybe more.”

Right there, something inside you cracked.

The tears came fast, hot and unstoppable, running down your face before you could stop them. You didn’t even try to wipe them away.

“I will,” you swore, voice rough. “Always will.”

Naomi studied you for a long moment—like she was looking for cracks, for lies. Then she nodded, satisfied.

With one last glance at Jay—his still form, the slow rise and fall of his chest—she turned toward the door.

“Good.” Her hand rested on the knob. “Then we’ll make them pay.”

And just like that, she was gone.

—

The hours dragged like a snail on sedatives. Nurses flitted in and out like over-caffeinated ghosts. Leah showed up with coffee that tasted like battery acid, and Mira was out in the hall threatening to sue someone just on principle.

Then—

A sound.

Not the beeping of machines, not the squeak of sneakers on linoleum.

A groan.

Your head shot up from where it had been planted on Jay’s bed like a particularly dramatic wilted flower.

His eyelashes fluttered—heroically, like a soap opera star waking from a coma—before his face scrunched up like he’d just smelled your cooking.

And then—

Oh.

Those eyes.

Dark, unfairly pretty, and brimming with the sheer audacity of a man who absolutely planned to flirt while half-dead.

“Jay!” You blurted, lunging forward like a rom-com protagonist with zero self-control.

He winced, but his mouth twisted into that stupid, smug grin. “Hey, superstar.”

You kissed him. Not a polite peck. No, this was a statement—equal parts you absolute moron and I love you so much I might strangle you myself.

When you broke away, Jay blinked, dazed but delighted. “Damn. Do I need to get shot more often?”

“You wish,” you hissed, thumping your forehead against his. “Next time, use your head and duck.”

He let out a wheezy chuckle. “Nah. Bullets already hate me. They always bounce off.”

“Well, they pierced your spleen.”

“Allegedly.”

And just like that—despite the hospital smell, the lingering terror, the fact that Jay was absolutely going to milk this for sympathy cuddles—the universe clicked back into place.

His hand squeezed yours. Weak, but there. Gripping it like a promise.

Never again.

And just like that—despite the pain, the fear, the long road ahead—the world tilted back into place.

Because Jay was here. Breathing. Smirking. Alive.

And that was enough.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — bruh how LONG have i been gone!?!? hopefully the writhyv drout will be over soon as i'm cooking up some new stuff!! anyways i hope you're still there to see them soon! AAAA IM GLAD TO BE BACKKKKKK RAAAAAAA

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — tagging @kaiyunsim @firstclassjaylee @ryes-brownies08

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the masterlist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~ 

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

[9w1ft]

Hi 9! What are your thoughts on “loml”? I really love your reads on songs (you totally changed my feelings on WCS and evermore!).

hi! this is still an evolving song for me but right now i see it as a karlie perspective song that covers several iterations of their relationship, as taylor attempted to reboot the public narrative of it time and again. so it’s going back to the idea that ive talked about in my wcs interpretation, and various other times, of the “years of tearing down our banners”

i like this framing because it helps the line “something counterfeit’s dead” make a lot of sense. because it’s a way of mourning a narrative that was a form of the truth. if we look at kaylor as one big long spanning relationship without breakups (which is what more than a few og’s think) that they had to cut the public narrative for several times, then each time they worked to rebuild the public narrative is crafting something that’s not exactly true because they were never apart in the first place.

so basically it comes down to how you associate each phrase of the song with what time period, and i go back and forth on it, but i’ll give a potential example,

if you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary = 2013-14 ending in kissgate

you and i go from one kiss to getting married = 2015-16 ending in the election

still alive killing time at the cemetery never quite buried = 2017-18 ending in the wedding thing

if you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary = 2013-14, 2015-16

what we thought was for all time was momentary = 2019 ending at the end of june

still alive killing time at the cemetery never quite buried = the present at the time of the song

it was legendary = 2013-14, 2015-16, 2018

it was momentary = 2019 ending in june

it was unnecessary should’ve let it stayed buried = 2019 ending in june, was ultimately unnecessary, as decided by the narrator at the present time of the song

here are some thoughts i had about what different things in the song could be referring to:

i wonder if the song opens with them starting to plan for rep era. i imagine taylor sitting down with karlie and walking her through her plans, and showing her how she was going to do all these amazing things for karlie over the era. and karlie describes it as “whos going to stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames when we know the steps anyway” as a way of describing how they had to tear their banners down after kissgate, with words like waltzing and flames being reminiscent of dancing with our hands tied.

“we embroidered our memories from the time i was away” is reminiscent of how people are away during war, which i think connects to the great war, and i love how the line is about them embroidering their memories and saying aw look at how young we were! even though they were apart? it’s this interesting blend of phrases people use when looking at a scrapbook or old photos of each other, juxtaposed with the idea that someone was away. it sort of works, it doesn’t not work, but there’s an interesting ‘?’ that happened in my mind.

“i said i don’t mind, it takes time” connects to taylor’s “so i take my time” refrain in ready for it. i would argue this makes a little more sense from karlie’s perspective. and as she’s referred to as the starry eyed one in other songs, “i thought i was better safe then starry eyed” connects this portion of the song to karlie’s perspective as well.

i also wonder if “i felt aglow like this never before and never since” refers to how reputation painted such a glitzy and glowing portrait of their relationship and of karlie.

“you and i go from one kiss to getting married” could potentially refer to the period of time between kissgate and 2016-ish where a lot of people think they may have quietly tied the knot, but moreover i think the line refers to an example of a time that they rebooted their public relationship, the rebuild that happened after kissgate (that dissolved post-election). it could also just refer to the period between kissgate and the wedding thing in 2018.

because i think that “and your suit and tie in the nick of time” refers to the 2018 wedding thing, where the million times line connects to songs like illicit affairs.

also “still alive killing time at the cemetery never quite buried” is giving “i tried” tombstone with the daisy growing up out of it pin. i also think about the line in wcs about how “the tomb won’t close”

next part of the song i think is a time jump to karlie reflecting on (mourning) lover era. “when your impressionist paintings of heaven turned out to be fakes well you took me to hell too.” is so reminiscent to me of the lover era pastel aesthetic and then the sharp turn towards allowing the vilification of karlie once more. “and all at once the ink bleeds, a conman sells a fool a get love quick scheme” feels like karlie describing the way that it felt, to have had taylor sit her down and describe all the wonderful things she had planned for them with lover era, how she learned from what didn’t work, and how she is ready to come out now, and so on and so forth, and how these plans got thrown away all at once at the last minute and how karlie may have felt by that. “what we though was for all time was momentary” i think could refer to thinking that this time around they would get the plan right, but the rollout of it during lover era ended up being momentary.

“you cinephile in black and white all those plot twists and dynamite” and “your arsons match” returns us to the image of the one who again and again tears down the banners. incidentally, mr steal your girl and make her cry seems to be a play on the nursery rhyme “georgie porgie” which i have come to learn through some light online research might be referencing a gay sex scandal of king charles the 2nd. at least, there’s folklore suggesting as much. so this could be a line about a back and forth of running to and away from being gay, and making the girl cry in the process. i’m taking a lot of poetic license with this point but i think thematically it’s interesting.

“i wish i could i unrecall how we almost had it all” of course underscores this abandonment of the “best laid plans” talked about in songs like hoax and the black dog as well

oh and i have a mutual that has this idea that the black dog is about scott b, where the location “the black dog” is a stand in for the bluebird cafe, where they met. and if we connect “and all of those best laid plans you said i needed a brave man and proceeded to play him until i believed it too” to “what a valiant roar what a bland goodbye the coward claimed he was a lion” then we can see this segment of loml as representing the failed coming out, how it started off strong but ended with taylor deciding not to follow through with it, and maybe karlie has feelings about that.

“i’m combing through the braids of lies” feels like a heavy line but again i think it very artfully depicts what a lot of it has been, an intricate weaving of multiple ongoing maintained narratives, now needing to be combed out again. many years out now from 2019, reflecting back on it, it really feels more and more like a crucial inflection point and i could imagine that the situation at the time did quite feel like the loss of a lifetime.

so these are my thoughts!! hope you find a few things that resonate with you!

[hurtwithallthecomfort]

Caretaker had never been interested in having kids. At every family reunion, people would eventually come round to ask, “so, when do you think you’ll start having children?”

The answer would always be the same. Never. They’re a lot of hassle, and considering caretaker’s line of work, it probably wouldn’t be a safe environment for a kid. Then, eventually, the disgruntled aunts and nagging uncles would quieten down and go back to obnoxiously chewing on their food, occasionally making a snide remark about a cousin or nephew.

It was 2:43 in the morning, or so the glaring alarm clock said. Caretaker groaned slightly as they turned, half asleep still. Normally, they slept through the night with ease, routinely going to bed at a reasonably mature time, and waking up to the beeping of the morning alarm like clockwork.

But, this time, it was loud in the house. Quiet murmurs and tentative footsteps had woken caretaker up, purely from the fact that they simply weren’t used to it. Caretaker was happily single and childless, as well as not owning any pets or really being of an age where sleepovers were considered anything but childish. On any other night, the house was silent through and through, but tonight was different.

A knock on the bedroom door brought Caretaker out of their thoughts. A grunted ‘come in’ was all Caretaker could respond with, and as soon as the words left their lips, the door creaked open, and faint light poured in. It was Whumpee. Caretaker wasn’t particularly shocked - who else would it be? Still, up until noe Whumpee had been adamant that they were completely fine. When the team had found them, they didn’t whimper or sob or plead. They had to be grappled down in order for Medic to be able to examine them, and when they were told of the severity of their injuries, they simply denied ever even feeling bad.

Ever since Whumpee had been found, they insisted on leaving, and going ‘home’, though nobody was particularly sure where ‘home’ was, because when asked about family and friends, Whumpee had no answer. But, the team couldn’t just let the kid go, partially because they were far too young to be fending for themselves, and partially because this was the closest to Whumper they had ever gotten. Could they really risk losing their only clue?

Sleeping in the HQ wasn’t an option for Whumpee, they were tense back there, snappy and hostile. Staying overnight wouldn’t have done any good. Most of the team had to set off on an emergency mission that was far too dangerous for someone as fragile as Whumpee. Medic and Caretaker were the only ones who remained, and the former already had kids of their own waiting at home. So, Caretaker it was. They packed up Whumpee’s things, drove them for three hours to get home, and fought to get them settled in the usually abandoned guest room.

And now, they were standing in Caretaker’s doorway. Hesitant. Akin to a child standing at the foot of their parent’s mattress, shaky and looking for comfort after a harrowing nightmare.

“… couldn’t sleep..” Whumpee muttered, looking away bashfully, as though they were embarrassed that they were hurting to the point of having to reach out. Like it was the worst thing they could have done.

Caretaker didn’t react. Perhaps it was the tiredness. Instead, they shuffled and shifted in their bed so that they were upright, and patted down the other half of the bed. An invitation. Whumpee tread closer to the bed in the same way that a stray cat might stagger towards the scent of a stranger. Assessing risks.

It took them a minute to crawl into the bed, but when they did, they were quick to pull up the duvet, clutching at the blanket for warmth. Caretaker hadn’t seen the room Whumpee was being kept in, but based on the look on Leader’s face after they had found them (somewhere between horrified and distressed), they could assume that Whumper had never concerned themselves with Whumpee’s temperature concerns.

Caretaker hadn’t expected Whumpee to relax this much in their room. Sure, Whumpee had taken to them much faster than they had taken to anyone else, and sure everyone on the team had jokingly started calling them the team mother, but those were all jokes. Caretaker wasn’t a parent, and they had made peace with that. Their life wasn’t safe for a child.

Caretaker moved from their sitting position, now lying on their side under the mauve covers. Here, they faced Whumpee, whose eyes were tight shut, and their frail arms tightly shut around the firm, cream pillow. They looked so young; while nobody could find any documents regarding Whumpee’s real identity, it was easy to tell looking at them that they couldn’t be older than late teens.

Hesitantly, Caretaker pushed their hand out and brushed Whumpee’s hair out of their face, fingers gently skimming their forehead. It was hot to touch, like they were a flu-ridden child in the middle of a summertime heatwave. Caretaker couldn’t even fathom what Whumpee had been through to get here. But, if their meagre little townhouse in the middle if nowhere could provide some solace for them, then so be it. Whumpee could sleep wherever they wanted.

[bowmanblogs]

sigh… the ‘no metas in Gotham’ thing is very clearly xenophobic and makes all other Batman fan content uncomfortable to go through, even when the person making said content doesn’t share the interpretation.

It’s so clearly racist? Like so very clearly. And I know it’s been shown in the comics, but it’s bad! You don’t see people write Hal as a pedophile, even though what he did in that one comic was not okay. Batman shouldn’t be written as a xenophobic prick for laughs. It just isn’t funny, and sets a bad precedent.

On top of this, more DC fans need to be okay with people not liking their faves.

I’ve never seen a Green Arrow fan harass people for not liking Oliver, it makes sense, but if I make too much noise about disliking Batman I suddenly have to read 100 asks calling me stuck-up and ‘on a moral high ground’. Literally calm down. It’s comics.

This is said with the obvious exceptions of disliking characters specifically due to race, gender, sexuality, and other hateful things, which is never okay.

Please, tell me your one-sentence long unpopular opinion about DC comics's heroes, with no explanation

Mine is: Green Lanterns should be overpowered and able to take down the entire Justice League

[so-sick-of-17]

I hate to complain about the casting of a movie that hasn’t come out yet, especially when the author is involved and the actors are children, but I can’t help but be disappointed with the castings of Louella and Lou Lou. I’m sure those girls will portray those characters perfectly and I am happy for them, but it feels off. Lou Lou paralleling how in our world white girls get the attention when something bad happens unlike mmiw was a big deal. And district 11 obviously has white people in it but is predominantly black so casting a white girl is confusing. I get they probably wanted her to look like Katniss but I figured that Katniss wearing her braids like that and acting similar to Louella as where that connection comes from so she didn’t need to look like Jen. Looks wise Katniss reminds him of those he lost because she looks like a mix of his and Maysilee’s best friends.

[kingofanemptyworld]

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

[righteous-pines]

Moon 0

[resurrectionist3]

A rude injustice to everyone else involved but including Jack O’Connel/Remmick’s character as well. I don’t want his story to just be some weird pity party redemption arc (and i want origin stories for lots of villains). I don’t think he’s the only one who deserves an origin story. I want every character with their separate cultures to have their origin stories (especially the Choctaw hunters, I’ll never stop rooting for them).

I never did think Sinners would get any add ons. As badly as we all wanted them and as much potential there is for them, its always felt like a stand alone film. I think the concept of an ACTUAL full fledged sequel/prequel is kind of weird and something i didn’t think would happen. And to be honest, im starting to hope that it doesn’t.

Let things be up for interpretation. Allow fans to theorise and speculate. The movie was so beautiful and well done on its own that now, i genuinely don’t think add ons would be anything but disappointing in comparison.

It would be like constantly chasing a high that we’ll never experience again. I feel as though nothing will ever be like this movie, no matter how hard they try.

So Warner Bros is gonna make a Sinners sequel without Ryan Coogler and I bet my entire weed stash that it’s going to be a white focused Remmick prequel or sequel and white people are going to eat it up because he was the only thing they focused on in the first place. Mark my words.

[quibbs126]

So something that came to my brain

We’ve gotten Optimus and Megatron iterations where Megatron is older than Optimus, and in more modern interpretations, where they’re around the same age

So why not have an iteration where Optimus is the older one of the two?

The idea that immediately pops into my head is that before the war (assuming we keep the story of the two knowing each other prior), Optimus could have been a mentor to Megatron, only for Megatron to eventually change for whatever reason and turn his back on Optimus, creating the Decepticons and waging war

It doesn’t need to be that, it’s just what came to my head first. But the idea of their dynamic being where Optimus is the older and Megatron the younger is maybe something to explore in future iterations. We now have a version where Starscream is notably older than Megatron, why not do the same with him and Optimus?

[not-kamenx]

just a thought I had

I love how in the beginning when Ekusu/Jaxon and Bird/Robin were still in their whole phase of getting used to each other in the earlier episodes, Robin was the one to be the hugger

LIKE HE FULL ON TACKLED JAXON FOR A CELEBRATORY HUG

then later on

Jaxon is the one initiating most of the physical contact

he takes Robin’s hand whenever he feels like it (when he wanted to try the cheese waffle sushi after moving into Komaba Sushi and dragged him along, and in the ep of Warden’s Exam when he wanted to battle) and regularly seems to choose him over Multi over most situations even when he’s scared, like in the ep of Riddles and Beys when he hides behind Robin after the tall person appeared (I FORGOT THE NAME)

It’s just really funny to see how it kind of swapped

[edge-oftheworld]

I don’t really talk about it much on here because I’m extremely lucky to be able to understand exactly what’s going on in my body, but it’s scary to live for years as someone who Gets Things Done in a way your peers don’t really understand, be putting effort into so many things you care about, and then suddenly lose the ability to do not only that but also basic tasks overnight after a deadline, and bit by bit after many. it’s scary getting really irritable sometimes to the point of violence, just when you were meant to be celebrating the rewards from your hard work, the only impact of the work you did that you can see is that you overdrafted your ability to do anything. including have a basic conversation without getting grumpy or crying. and your body is going to make you pay it back with interest, you already know that, but you don’t know how to start filling yourself back up. you’ve only ever enjoyed being on the grind, hard at work on exciting things.

I don’t know how many of you have been through the kind of burnout that’s years of needing 12hrs of sleep a night but with terrible insomnia, waking up to what feels like a hangover for weeks on end with little relief then rinse and repeat without having a single drink, feeling too sick to eat and needing to exercise to emotionally regulate but being unable to, anxiety that doesn’t come from worry but you’ll pick that up too at some point, dissociating every time you try to do mentally taxing tasks that you’re PAID for so it takes an hour of grounding yourself just to get five minutes worth of productive concentration, falling asleep the minute you feel a little safe by being in the presence of loved ones. but I suspect I’m not the only one.

I’ve had songs for the energetic and angsty times leading up to this. for the exasperated times and the brain fog and the times where all my limited energy is tied up in feeling things. that I need to, need to acknowledge, but it’s overwhelming and I live in a haze for weeks as a result of. songs telling of the kind of youth I wish I had, even when I was sold something else. songs for the months spent as a teenager trying to be there for my friends, worrying for them, distracting me from worrying for myself, trying to cling on to positivity and hope amongst it when I had to choose to make a discipline of always seeing that. I’ve had songs for healing and when healing is harder than expected and songs that have the right level of musical complexity to capture the layers of everything that’s happening in my head, making it sound good, telling me it’s gonna be okay.

I don’t know how I could ever say thank you for this. but I do know that I see parts of myself in the people behind these songs, of course I do, and I worry for them as a result and ache for them because it’s hard enough to feel this way when no one knows me or feels the need to control me or mould me into what they think I should be. I’d do anything to keep them all healthy and happy and all of their loved ones too and I don’t think it’s strange as a fan to take that seriously. I hope we can understand the need to treat them gently, and to while not questioning their privacy and the fact that they’re never going to tell us everything they go through, listen to our intuition when we catch something we relate to and treat what they’ve shared with us or hinted at with the dignity we would if someone we love told us something vulnerable. be kind in our expectations and be intentional in the fan culture we create because it does make its way back to them.

and the same goes with all of you. we’re bonding over the same things. I know a lot of this fandom is in the stage where interpersonal relationships are hard. we don’t mean to be grumpy of frustrated but we are. and I’m sending love to all of you. we can get through this together. it’s what they’ve always longed for isn’t it?

[wildfairies]

i love reading all kinds of heinrix fic :D one thing that amuses me though is a lot of ppl have RTs who are super understanding of heinrix in a very tender way, they meet his spirals w a lot of empathy and patience. and zella is NOT like that lmao, i know they were having soap opera arguments during the phase where he keeps pulling away and bringing up the imperium 💀

[mabelsguidetolife]

I love when i talk to my mom about something and she’s such a shitty listener that she goes off about something unrelated and then gets mad because i point out that she didn’t answer my questions or reply to anything i actually said and it literally makes me feel insane

[saturnz-skiez]

back on my shit again the mullinsverse games have stories and overarching themes that can easily be read as transgender and you know they say three times is a pattern.

[agoddamnrayofsunshine]

I have such qualms with the idea of pit madness that is super popular in most fics because like…obviously is completely veers away from anything even remotely canon from the comics, and it’s usually used only in reference to Jason as a way to quickly resolve the issue of his violent actions instead of actually addressing them.

But also I think that, if you’re going to use it as a plot device, it’s being severely under-utilised. Like, I think that taking the idea of pit madness to its logical extreme and applying it to all characters that have used a Lazarus pit would make for an incredibly interesting story. It has a lot of potential as a trope, considering that the general idea boils down to ‘imagine if mind control specifically targeted your strongest emotions (especially anger) and forced you to act on them’ and I think that more authors who are going to use it need to lean into it instead of using it as a throwaway explanation for Jason’s actions.

Utilising a highly popular fanon trope in your fic is fine, but I think that if you’re going to use it we need to stop ignoring what it could potentially offer for a story.