#it says enough probably

[secretnameofeverydeath]

im writing my first ever fanfiction and it has been an amazing writing experiment/exercise.

firstly because this is my first time writing fiction in english. i'm currently teaching a creative writing course to people who are learning my native language, and although i've been speaking english longer than they have been speaking my language, i still have a very hard time writing creatively. i am constantly frustrated because i'm lacking vocabulary, my sentence structures are weird because i apparently write weirdly structured sentences in my own language (which im also learning through this exercise) but there i have control and a deep intuitive understanding of grammar that i lack in english. the point is, i am now even more impressed when the people in my class write really, really good, creative and beautiful fiction, and i feel i understand at least a tiny bit better why they sometimes get frustrated for lack of words, or when they attempt to describe how they feel, etc.

secondly, because there's no point to fanfiction except my own enjoyment. so this is an exercise in true, self-indulgent writing. i'm only writing because i enjoy writing it and so i'm trying to allow myself to write whatever i want to write. i started out with the plan to write some good ol' fix-it stuff and hurt/comfort, but of course i linger on death and dying and what it means to see someone close to you die and on grief, and i'm actually way less invested in the hurt/comfort plot because i do not want to fix these characters i just want to study them oooops.

the thing is, all these things feel so shameful to do when i'm writing literature - like, come on, choose a happier or sillier topic, like come on not again a story about death and grief? like i always feel like i need to then at least be funny, or it should not be too autobiographical, etc etc, etc. there are so many rules i feel i need to abide by and im very scared to be too much, and i find it so very hard to believe other people might be interested in what i am interested in, or my thoughts, so i tend to keep the things that are purely written for me, in different folders on my laptop that will never see the light of day.

but there's nothing to gain from writing fanfiction except the pure pleasure of it and amazingly sweet comments from readers. so it's an exercise in allowing myself to write self-indulgent bullshit, to include those stupid literary rants and descriptions of death and dying, and to actually publish it. and then when people comment they want more, are invested, or actually like the literary rant, it makes my heart jump a little.

and of course there are all kinds of fanfiction rules and fanfiction etiquette im probably failing to abide by, but this is a new genre so i do not yet feel like i need to have it mastered and also once again: there's nothing to gain from writing it so what does it matter that its probably all a bit too analytical and my style is weird and the characters are maybe a bit ooc? nobody has to read it, and if people read it and hate it it's simply their problem and it does not even directly reflect on me because yes im definitely attempting to keep this shit as anonymously as possible.

[haemosexuality]

one step closer to being real

[batfamhyperfixation]

Pre-dating, Tim or Bernard not knowing the other isn’t straight

Tim, leaning over to look at Bernard’s phone as they chill in Tim’s bedroom: whatcha doing?

Bernard: imma send Red Robin subtle messages until I trick him into admitting he’s into guys so I can sleep with him

Tim, bi panic, blushing: you’re what?

Bernard, typing out a message on his phone: here how does this sound Tim, ‘gay af to be a detective, what are you inspecting, other men??’, sound subtle enough?

Tim, too dumbfounded to speak:

Bernard: yeah you’re right, it’s perfect, imma send it

*Tims phone goes off, and then both watch it light up, Bernard seeing the message he just sent*

Tim, picking up his phone, typing, and sending a message without saying anything, face nearly bright red as he glances over at Bernard, who is staring at him wide eyed not saying anything

Bernard, looking down at the text Tim sent him back as Red Robin that says, ‘I like you, let’s fuck’:

Bernard: hey Tim I have a couple of questions

[thedreadvampy]

Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.

"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."

translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"

It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!

very this

[lazylittledragon]

isn't it weird how if you get up at 7 or 8, do your work all day, then have free time and go to bed at 11 that's absolutely fine

but if i said i get up at 10, do fun stuff in the morning then work in the evening and go to bed late, i could be called lazy, nevermind that i'm getting just as much or MORE work done as i would in a traditional work day

[thatone-churro]

hang on. there’s no way we’re revitalizing “are [cishet] aro people queer” discourse. it is almost 20-fucking-24. no. say sike right now. you’re all fucking ridiculous. how are we not only not over this, but bringing it up for active discourse again. and acting like the things being said are common discussion and not. blatant aphobia. which is homophobia. it’s queerphobia. did we never fucking learn from the many “they want us to fight amongst ourselves because if we’re divided it’s easier to ruin us” type talks that everyone was making a while ago. or was that a phase too. what happened to “anything not heteronormative is what queer is. anything with romance/sex/gender that’s othered from what society deems the “norm” is what we are. we are a community of outcasts because the greater community doesn’t want us either way.” what the shit.

[monakisu]

light gets it from his mom… “it” as in “two-faced backstabbing snakery” ˘ᗜ˘🐍

(late) gift 3/3 for my secret santa @llawlieta !!! for ur prompt of yagami family Fucked Up goodness ( ͒•·̫|💚🍭🎀 hope u enjoy!! HAPPY HOLS! * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[hinamie]

summer is coming so i'm giving them the beach day they deserve

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript -

Gabriel : *heavy breathing and grunting* Bastard. 

Useless bucket of bolts. Yeah, you better run!

Load back to your- Ah shit, that was hard. Load back to your little checkpoint.

Yeah, go ahead. Go P rank the other levels. 

Oh… I’m sorry. Can-can-can I? Excuse me, can I help you?

Columbo : Oh, uh, hi there. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Uh, I’m looking for somebody. 

Uh, Gabriel is it? Is that you? Is that who I’m lookin for?

Listen, I just gotta say, you did an amazing job uh… Fighting off that uh. 

What’d ya-what’d ya call it?

Uh, you called it a… 

Gabriel : A mere object?

Columbo : That’s right. A mere object. 

Phenomenal work. 

I gotta tell ya. Robots, I don’t trust em myself. 

Ya know, I had-I had this one episode where uh, there was this robot named Rob and uh-

Gabriel : Uh, yes. 

That’s very fascinating, but could you perhaps get on with your introduction? 

Columbo : Uh, certainly. So I’m, uh, I’m lieutenant Columbo. Uh, I’m with the LAPD. Uh, I'm in the homicide department. 

Gabriel : Homicide? You can’t kill a machine. 

Columbo : No no no! Of course not. But um… Well… Ya can certainly love one.

Gabriel : D-d-d-detective I- I don’t- I don’t know what you’re implying there with that statement!

As you can tell I… Despise machines and wouldn’t think about doing so- Loving them, I mean.

Columbo : Yes, of course uh. Absolutely, it’s completely unthinkable. 

Except, well. While I was- while I was over here and I opened this door and uh fourteen- fourteen V1 body pillows fell out. Along with a buncha the plushies. 

Uh, and I just can’t imagine how ya- how ya happened upon something like that by accident.

It’s a little ridiculous! Uh, frankly.

Gabriel : Uh, no no no, listen.  

Detective. I can explain, okay? 

Those belong to- uh! That guy over there! 

*Filth-like scream*

Gabriel : Yeah! A real freak! 

Some kinda pervert. I don’t know why we keep him around.

But uh, I-I have nothing to do with it. 

Columbo : Well, ya see, I would believe- I would believe that, but uh. 

It’s just that- Well we had the boys at the lab run these pillows and we found your cum- We found your DNA all over em, uh.

You’re-You’re under arrest, I’m killing you.

Gabriel : K-hah. Kill me? *laughs*

Oh detective. 

Columbo : Oh. Aw fuck.

Gabriel : I’m afraid you’ve made a grave mistake. 

Because, in fact… What is going to happen instead…

Is actually what I’m gonna- AHHHG MOTHERFUCKER

I’LL FUCKIN KILL YOU

SON OF A BITCH 

AHHG YOU BASTARD

I’LL RIP YOU APART 

PIECE OF SHIT

YOU FUCK

ASSHOLE

BITCH

*Grunting* 

Oh Shit. 

Oh. What have I done? 

V1 : Bro, tell me you didn’t just kill a fucking cop.

Gabriel : The law will be here any second now… 

Machine, flush the drugs.

V1 : No way, bro. Let’s smoke that.

Gabriel : All of it?!?

Hm… One last ride…

Well, alright.

*coughing his lungs out*

V1 : No Gabriel, holding it in doesn’t do anything!

*Gabriel continues to cough his lungs out*

End of transcription

Audio source part 1

Audio source part 2

[frownyalfred]

imagine how smart Bruce would be if he didn't get hit in the head all the time. "Lex Luthor is the smartest man on Earth--" "Tony Stark is--" right but if Bruce is holding his own up there AND he's been playing fast and loose with TBIs for a few years, that ranking is flawed.

[aro-and-ace-memes-thoughts]

It's kinda sad people accept more when I say "I'm not interested in dating" than "I'm aroace" (or similar). They assume the first one is temporary, they can't accept I'm not like them and not liking someone ever doesn't mean something's wrong with me

[arushofbulletstothehead]

Guys who are most likely dead in canon

[swampthingking]

andrew’s definitely gotten in trouble with his pr manager for tweeting things along the lines of:

“no mania inducing medication will compare to the euphoria i will feel the day donald trump drops dead”

[senseearly]

For a moment, imagine yourself in Mithrun's brother shoes.

Your brother - stronger, prettier, more charismatic, but also distrustful and disdainful of everyone especially you - is to be sent to the Canaries. It is the rule, it is the duty of all noble houses. But you know what goes on there, Mithrun knows what happens there. Yet you see him off, bidding a temporary farewell as you do, because someone from the House has to go and it won't be definitely you. Mithrun knows this, you know this. And you wonder, very briefly, if Mithrun hates you now more than he does already.

Your brother - powerful, agile, a good soldier just as he is as an heir, if he could only be an heir - suddenly disappears. The unit he belonged to suddenly disappeared. And you're speechless because - how? why? No one wants to answer you; they will instead try to bring back a body, they promise to you. But that is not what you want. You grieve for your brother. but your own family doesn't grieve with you. Wasn't Mithrun family too?

Then you found out: MIthrun is alive.

Your brother - now weak, despondent, his eyes always looking for something that is not here nor there - is to be sent home where people can take care of him. It is not your first choice, you want him home. But he is - sick. Not quite there. He needs someone who can look after him and you look at yourself - your gait, your constitution - and you know it can't be you. So, you follow the advice of your family and pour out all your resources to find him the best of healers and caretakers. You ask yourself, almost daily, if Mithrun would ever return to who he once was.

Your brother - strong, pretty, uninterested of anything and anyone else aside from what he calls 'the demon' - is now better. He can walk on his own now, eats without throwing up on himself. The color on his skin is back and the scars of his injuries have faded into thick bumps and discolored skin. But he still isn't quite there; still needs help and probably will for the rest of his life. And you can live with that. You can provide that. Just as long as he comes home.

But doesn't. Your brother - now a husk of his former self, and you hate thinking of him that way, but you can't help yourself, the Mithrun you knew is gone - runs straight back to the Canaries. His mission is not over, he says. He doesn't care how long it takes, he says. And you see him off, again, because someone from the House has to go and it still can't be you. Mithrun knows this, you know this, and you can't help but wish, very briefly, if things would've been different if you went instead of him.

[sysig]

Two skeletons in a trench lab coat (Patreon)

Bonus:

He’s very careful! Everything was fine before you interrupted!