#just had to write something

[injuries-in-dust]

What concerns me with the humans are space orcs stuff oddly enough was humanity's clothing,

Looking at mass effect and other SciFi games and films the clothes suck, boring and basic design all round.

Then I look at what we wore around the 1800s, where did our sense of fashion go?

Security chief Thron frowned as they looked down at the human, classified as; "Stowaway" in the holding cell.

Xe didn't know how the conversation had spun around to this topic, but it was engaging enough to pass the hours until they reached the next spaceport to hand the human over to the proper authorities. "Human fashion is so boring."

Jupiter classified themselves as a "Hitchhiker" but after a few hours in the cell and settled on an "agree to disagree" mentality with the security chief.

They shook their head. "You've clearly not met the right humans."

Thronn shook xyr head, "I have met many humans during my service."

"Oh service," Jupiter rolled their eyes. "You can't judge human fashion based on those guys in the service. Uniforms don't count."

"It is not just humans within the service I have met. We are a cargo vessel, we bring many useful supplies to many fledgling colonies, human ones included."

Jupiter shook their head, "new colonies? You're judging fashion by what you see on the new colonies?"

"Then what of your garments? Dull colourings all over your person. Little accoutrements to be seen. Very boring. Very typical of human stowaways."

"Hitchhikers." Jupiter corrected. "You can't judge hitchhikers and colonists. They don't have the resources to waste on fancy stuff, and I've got to travel light. It's all about keeping it simple. Hardwearing stuff that lasts a long time and could be easily replaced or repaired. And the dark colours help me hide when I'm stow... hitchhiking."

Thronn decided xe would let that slip of the tongue pass without comment.

Jupiter looked xem up and down. Even in a uniform, the alien had been allowed a few accessorires of cultural significance. It certainly added splashes of colour to the usually dull grey security uniform. A small headdress with a bright embroidered pattern, a sash around the waist with a matching design, and an epaulette on the shoulder made of small conical seashells stitched onto silk and painted in bright colours.

It was certainly more than Jupiter had going on. They had a navy blue bomber jacket, dark shirt, dark khaki trousers, brown hiking boots, a black and white shemagh wrapped around her neck and a dark green and black rucksack usually slung over her back, but right now it was sitting outside the cell in an evidence locker. The closest to an accessory they had going on was a few ID patches sewn onto the jacket and bag. Name, species, blood type, and world of origin.

Photographs and memories were their souvenirs.

"Have you ever been to any of the long-established colonies? Any that have been around for a century or more?"

Thronn shook xyr head, "I haven't. The ship's duties only take us around the border worlds."

"Then you haven't seen what humans are really capable of when they get comfortable." Jupiter pointed over to the locker holding their bag. "There are some pictures on my datapad. I managed to visit Port Marinda, Alforanza, and New Barcelona last year, they're all human colonies, all about two hundred years old. Go on, get the pad and I'll show you the pictures."

Against xyr better judgement, Thronn opened the locker and retrieved the datapad. Xe opened a small hatch in the holding cell, usually used to pass meals through.

Jupiter scrolled through the pictures until they found the folder holding the pictures of their visit to New Barcelona. The pictures showed the wonderful countryside of rolling hills of silver and purple grass, scattered with trees with leaves of bright orange. Sunglasses were a must when walking in the countryside because of the risk of violent headaches, especially on sunny days. The sunsets were simply stunning, and they had amazing local fruit that looked like a red banana and tasted like raspberry and dark chocolate.

The capital city was also a sight to see. Tall, wavy and twisting buildings that looked like bright coral growing right out of the ground. Each one was a different colour so every district contained a rainbow of either bright or pastel shades.

The people were equally bright and ingenious in their clothing. Jupiter turned the screen to show Thronn a picture they'd taken of a picturesque street market.

Thronn looked at the handful of humans in the picture. One human wore a colourful dress that looked almost like millions of feathers sewn together. Even in the still image, xe could imagine how they would shimmer in the light.

Another human, a male, he wore a bright green suit, covered with silver, gossamer-like webbing which rose out of the shoulders, spreading behind him, resembling small wings.

Xe spotted a person Xe almost thought wasn't human at all until xe realised that their skin was painted from the neck down. Covering the paint was a simple dress that looked like a net. Where each thread crisscrossed with another, a brightly coloured jewel had been sewn.

One human being, who looked to be talking with a shopkeeper over some sort of food, was dressed in an elegant gown of a bright colourful fabric that looked like a sunset itself had been turned into the material that made the garment.

There was a tall adolescent human was dressed in a tight full-body outfit with an elaborate headdress which covered their entire face with a snake-like mask. You couldn't see the human and it gave Thronn an almost unsettling impression of a large bipedal reptile moving among the humans.

"You see," Jupiter said. "Forget uniforms, travellers and frontier colonies. Just give humans time to settle down, get some resources to spare and watch their imaginations fly."

Thronn had to admit it. Human fashion was not boring.

[crystallinecryptid]

Not-poem

I am not a poet

poetry has meaning

I simply say my nonsense

my mind stuck and my words leaning

on metaphor and simile as clumsy as myself

their cheap and poor construction leaves my work upon the shelf

this is not a poem

poems are works of art

these are just my silly thoughts

because my brain refused to start

producing any useful insight to help me on my way

so now I write this not-poem just to help me through my day

Maybe I’m a poet

and maybe this a poem

are distraction and enjoyment

not artful meanings on their own? 

it’s possible my writing holds wisdom art and poetry

It’s possible-

but probably not.

[the-coffee-fandom]

Had to make a meme to describe me currently

[pens-and-paperbacks]

Be me. Sit down at computer. Tell myself I'm going to get work done. Depression/ADHD/Fatigue/IDK what really (I can't afford to be diagnosed) kicks in. Suddenly blocked from doing anything I want to do, as if a bouncer popped up in my skull saying, "oh no you don't!". Yell swears. Take shower to relax. Lie down listening to old pop music I used to be obsessed with. Its been an hour or two. But I feel a lot better. Get back on computer. Let body go into "auto mode" because my mind can't really focus. I manage to get a product listing done for my ko-fi shop. That's enough. I did something and it's enough. Let dog out and lie back down. Small victory achieved!

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[i-eat-bugs-and-dirt]

JONATHAN SIMS PRIEST AU! FORCED CONFESSIONS! PEOPLE BEING FORCED TO RELIVE THEIR CONFESSED SINS IN THEIR DREAMS OVER AND OVER AGAIN!!! RELIGIOUS GUILT MARTIN!! THE FEAR ENTITIES SOMEHOW LINKED TO THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS! IM GOING INSANE!

[haematoclan]

Leo's relationship with death

Leo really doesn't like to think about death.

I mean, we all saw how much impact Karai's death had on all of Mad Dogs but Leo was the only one that had to be dragged from her, yelling after her, he really, really didn't want to lose her.

And I think when he lost her it left a deep scar.

I saw posts talking how Leo wants for things to get back to normal and pretend nothing happened, which I completely agree with. I think it's in big part because of his fear of repeating losing a close one.

He REALLY doesn't want to even acknowledge death.

Here Raph seemed to be getting through to Leo-

-but the moment he mentions possibility of his family dying?

Nope, time to deflect, joke and feign ignorance.

Leo's aware that death is a big part of being a responsible hero and that's why he'd rather goof off with his brothers and not train.

Because obviously when you ignore something it just dissapears, right? So if they ignore severity of certain situations and possibility of dying it won't happen, right?

If they don't treat it seriously they'll be fine! Totally!

Then Raph shields Leo from the Krang and sends him away.

And it's as if Karai's death stared right in his eyes.

So Leo picks up the slack of leadership in order to save Raph. He behaves carelessly during this time but can you really blame him, he desperately wants to save his brother, to stop yet another family member from death that he is so scared of.

He still tries to be positive and nonchalant, that "pfff obvioulsy everything will turn out alright!" but at the end of the day, it's not that simple.

Casey's speech had hard time to really hit Leo, he's still avoiding confronting resposibility, literally and metaphorically turning away from it. But the moment Casey says Leo's whole family died?

Now that made an impact.

And every time his family is in terrible danger he looks absolutely terrified and basically every time Leo has to be dragged away to not just return and try to save them again.

And when there's nobody to drag him away?

First thing he does is sacrifice himself. Because I don't think Leo is scared of his own death, or at least he is not as scared of him dying as his family. He'd rather give away his life than live through another grief.

Obviously I'm not sayin that the rest of the fam isn't terrified of close ones dying. But while they seem less aware (Mikey) and/or more ready for the possibility (Raph)...

Leo's wholly aware but he'd rather not be and ignore his fears until he can't anymore.

[captainswan618]

there is a person standing 73 yards some distance away, watching you. they look like they’re trying to tell you something. you can’t get away from them, nor can you get close to them. they’re just...standing there.

so your friends and loved ones try to help you by talking to them, and the person must be saying something to them, because they look at you differently now. but you have no idea what it was, all you hear is static.

you try to tell them not to listen to the person, but no matter what you do, no matter how much you plead with them, they look up at you with suspicion-hatred-fear and just run. they don’t care where they’re going, just that you’re not there. and you can’t do anything to stop it.

the more that the people in your life care about you, the worse it is, because anyone who tries to help is turned against you. so you are just gradually shut out of your own life by the people you love the most, until eventually you no longer recognize your surroundings.

there is a person standing 73 yards some distance away, watching you.

[bluerosefox]

Gray and Graysons

One of the Bats has a secret. Something they never told to the others.

They were so very young but they have memories of a sibling, so small and tiny. They remember the burst of warmth they had in their heart when they held the tiny baby for just a moment.

But they weren’t allowed to keep them, their family couldn’t raise them. Money was tight, just enough for three but not for four, despite their shows always bringing in a crowd it was getting harder and harder for the world to be wowed by them in the new age and their sibling was too small and tiny and needed to be cared in a single place than for them to be on the road. Their lifestyle was not good for his tiny sibling apparently.

They had to watch as their parents gave his sibling away to people in suits, them promising to give his baby brother to a loving family when they find a ‘home’ for him. He watched his parents try to be strong only for his mother to break down once the car left down the road, his father holding her and apologizing, the rest of the circus troupe all silently coming over to give the heartbroken family condolences.

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson had tears running down his face when he last saw his baby brother.

A brother he got to name before he had to be given away.

Daniel ‘Danny’ Grayson.

-x-x-

Dick never told the others. If anyone dug deep into his past they might find his brother’s birth records maybe, if someone got around to digitizing the paperwork for him but given the fact he was placed in the US childcare systems just a few days after his birth and the fact that Dick was still pretty young they most likely believed he didn’t remember his baby brother now. Not after so many years.

But they were wrong, Dick remembers. And he kept the secret close to his heart and memories.

And the only physical evidence he had was a single picture of him holding his brother, a smile on his tiny face towards their father who had taken the photo of them together. When he had lost his parents, lost most of the things that connected him to them, to his past in the circus that had been his whole life, had been taken from him in Gotham’s ruthless childcare system, he held on tight to the picture in secret. Hid it away from anyone trying to rip it from him, hid it from Bruce when the man took him in days later, hid it from Alfred despite how gentle the butler was towards him. He couldn’t, wouldn’t risk losing his photo at the time, he hadn’t trusted anyone and by the time he did he didn’t have the heart to reveal it.

So yes, the existence of his baby brother Danny was his most guarded and best kept secret.

So that’s why Dick, as Nightwing, nearly died from a heart attack when leaving a Justice League meeting he spotted a familiar face among one of the new engineers working in the Watchtower.

It was like seeing a young version of himself. Only, Dick could see that the young man was more than a copy of him, so much more than a clone. He held many traces of John Grayson but also had a bit more of Mary Grayson than Dick did. Small details that Dick foggely remembers taking note when he had held his baby brother.

“Hey, hurry up with that report Gray!” Shouted the head engineer from down the hall, his hand beckoning the young adult to come over.

“Coming! And boss, I told you Danny is fine!” Danny shouted back before hurriedly leaving a stunned Nightwing.

[bratphilia]

step-father!william who fucks you at every given opportunity, whenever your mother is, or, scarily enough, without your mother out of the house. 

when she's not home, the both of you have more breathing room to do whatever you want to do. he'll bend you over the kitchen counter and pound you until you're screaming his name and making a mess of yourself and his cock. "that's it, baby girl, come all over me," he'd praise. or sometimes you would watch a movie, but you wouldn't get very far before he has you on the couch, too. usually, there he has you in missionary, or sometimes he likes to bend your legs in half or put them above his shoulders. he likes to grunt praises such as "you're so good for me" or call you "baby doll" and "sweet girl." 

but when your mom is home is a whole different story. for some reason, sex with william is even better, rougher. it's definitely the danger of being caught, too. he takes you on your own bed, fucking you roughly from behind. he degrades you, shames you for being so wet. "look at you, so horny for daddy," he whispers in your ear before biting your lobe. he has a hand in your hair, burying your face in the pillows while he hits it from the back. the noises of his hips slapping against your ass is absolutely obscene. "gonna have to be quiet, angel, don't want to get caught, or do you? by the way you're moaning it sure as hell seems like it." 

[sky-is-the-limit]

1/4

"Hey, love. Can you see me? This connection’s a bit rubbish."

"I’m alright, just... yeah, I miss you. A lot. Look at this though—" [signal crackles] "—my beard’s getting out of control."

"It’s a bit mad, isn’t it? You’d hardly know me now—" [audio cuts out briefly] "—started growing it the day I left."

"Wish you could see it better. Guess it’s keeping me warm but... I’d trade it in a heartbeat to be back there with you." [signal crackles] "I miss—" [audio drops]

"I said I miss you. Every damn day. You’re all I think about out here." [static in the background] "I’ll be home soon, alright? Just gotta get through this."

"I’ll be careful. I promise." [signal drops again] "Whatever happens, just know that I—"

[reconnecting] "—I’m doing everything I can to get back to you. I love you so much. More than words."

"I will, love. You take care too, yeah? Be safe."

"I love you. Always."

[kissinvampires]

"Do you think Eddie likes me?" The question leaves Steve's mouth absently, like an afterthought. Wayne watches his shoulders tense as he holds the cabnet door up. His eyes are on the floor. His cheeks going red. Wayne hums genlty, trying not to laugh in Steve's face. If he only knew.

Instead he sits with the question for a moment, keeps working, tightening the screws till they're snug. He nods at Steve, he lets go. Wayne swings the door back and forth a few times. No squeaks. And it doesn't fall off into his hands. He and Steve both nod at the same time, satisfied, Steve's hands dropping to his hips.

"Does he bite you?" Wayne asks, trying to sound as thoughtful as Steve had with his question. Steve stares at him. Wayne raises his eyebrows.

"Eddie. Does he ever bite you?" He repeats, giving Steve a pointed look.

"Oh! Um.. he... yeah? S-sometimes." Steve stammers a bit, his brow furrowing as he rubs at the back of his neck. And then his hand falls to his shoulder. And then drops by his side and clenches. Wayne smiles.

"You ever heard'a cuteness aggression?" Wayne asks, putting his tools back into their box and stashing it on top of the fridge. Steve shakes his head and frowns again. Wayne nods, motions for the small table and sits, Steve following him and sitting across from him.

"Well what I understand of it, and I'm getting this information from Eddie so... take it as you will." Steve smiles, a knowing look passing his face as he nods, and yeah, this kid has it bad for his boy.

"It's when someone thinks something is so cute it makes them violent. And Ed's got it bad. Took him ages to get it under control. What do you think happened to Gilberts ear?" Wayne nods toward the couch where their chunky brown tabby cat is napping. He looks up at the mention of his name and meows inquisitively.

"Oh my god what?!" Steve gasps, his hand jumping to cover his mouth. Wayne snorts.

"I'm just messin with ya kid. He was like that when Ed found him." Wayne smiles. Steve looks at him, straight faced, unimpressed. One of Eddie's favorite looks to wax poetic about.

"Very funny." He says dryly. Wayne chuckles, taps his hand on the table and says,

"I thought so. Anyway, point is. If that boy's teeth have sunk into you at some point. Odds are he likes ya just fine." Wayne smiles warmly, watches the gears turning in Steve's head, his brow furrowing and then relaxing as his mouth drops open in a little "O".

"So he'd say yes. If I- I mean if I wanted to-" he watches Steve swallow nervously.

"If you asked him out. Yes. I believe he would say yes." Wayne just watches Steve, takes a sip of his coffee. Steve nods to himself.

"Okay. Okay cool. I can do this. Awesome. Thank you!" He'd stood, hands wiping at his thighs, patting down his pockets, looking for his keys, before startling and turning back to Wayne to thank him.

"They're on the table by the door. And you're welcome son." He took another sip.

"And Steve?" He calls as Steve's hand hits the door, the boy turns to look at him, wide eyed.

"Yeah?"

"He can be a little... dense. When it comes to these things. Best to be forward. To the point." Wayne nods again, gives Steve a knowing look. Watches as his head tilts like a puppy as he processes.

"Forward. To the point. Okay. I got this." Steve said, nodding, to himself really, before darting out the door.

Wayne shakes his head, smiles as he cleans out his coffee cup and hopes that he'd done right by his boy. He couldn't take much more of Eddie's love sick puppy eyes. And Steve had been doing them for a few months now as well, and it was all too much. It had to be done.

~*~

Three hours later the trailer door slams open and Eddie rushes in. Steve hot on his heels, hand locked in Eddie's as he drags him down the hall.

"Evening boys." Wayne says, nonchalant, from his place near the stove, leaning against the counter.

"Hi Wayne!" Steve calls, happy and polite.

"No!" Eddie says, points at Steve aggressively and then to Wayne.

"No more talking! You two have talked enough today!" He half yells, and then drags Steve into his room, both of them laughing. His door slams shut. And then promptly opens again. Eddie bounds into the little kitchen, right into Wayne's space, and nearly tackles him in a tight hug.

Wayne squeezes him back, feels Eddie's lips press gently against his shoulder and then he's gone. Twirling away from his uncle's hold.

"Thanks Wayne." He says, his eyes bright and shining, his cheeks dimpled with happiness, and, right along his jaw, the imprint of teeth. A bitemark. Right on his face.

Wayne nods, and smiles as Eddie disappears into his room again. He can hear them talking and laughing through the wall as he makes dinner. Dinner for three now. As it has been for months.

He cooks. And he thinks. Three hours later and Steve still had to bite him to get his point across. Wayne shakes his head, smiling as he breaks the noodles and tosses them into the water, happy that his boys were finally happy.

[sukunasweetheart]

i so desperately want to write a dark romance with the concept of consuming as a form of intense, obsessive yet ominously beautiful, love with trueform sukuna.

i want him to love reader so much that he almost wants to literally eat her, and i want her to see it not as something to be terrified of, but to accept and recognise that his desire to devour you is not out of malice, but rather, something of adoration...

his mad infatuation would reveal itself in many, many forms. just by simply looking at you, his eyes darken, and his gaze seems to poke and prod at your soul, constantly analysing and soaking the sight of you into his memories. the way all four of his hands touch you, his searing hot palms smoothing over you, littering deep bruises across, claiming your skin as his canvas, embedding marks that indicate his presence in all and every way possible.

how his lips possessively captures yours, tongue twisting around in your mouth - sukuna kisses you with a type of hunger that goes unmatched by anybody else-- his engagements with you are all-consuming, meaning that he doesn't let you get a moment to think about anything else, too pre-occupied with his flames that lick up at your flesh, threatening to burn you down to cinders with its intensity, unmerciful. and when his teeth sinks in, a cry escapes your throat - a cry that isn't pleading for help, but is pleading for more.

sukuna's adam's apple would bob up and down as he swallows dryly, enduring another night of wishing to absolutely devour you whole, and leave nothing of you behind. it certainly doesn't help that you encourage him, egg him on.

he mustn't- he mustn't- he mustn't--

for who will comfort him from the loneliness that would follow, if he loses you to himself?

he satiates his aching desires by lapping up your honey-sweet blood from your inflicted bite wounds, addicted to your unique, intoxicating flavour.

you smile deliriously, like a madwoman, helplessly enamoured by sukuna's dangerous, distorted, yet an undeniably powerful form of his love.

Masterlist

[magpie-trinkets]

continuing that "maya tries to contact claire" post, i present you the post-Spirit of Justice follow-up

[a-dope-fiend]

It irritates me alot when people say that making medic more compassionate is ''missing the point of his character'' when he is literally shown to be in the comics.... did you miss the part where he showed concern for both sniper and miss pauling's well being in comic 5 and 6.

His actions are a combination of genuine attachment + clinical interest and these things do not cancel out one another. He is always pushing boundaries and going against the grain and i think this is what led to him losing his license in the first place. He felt stifled by the rules imposed on him.

He is shown to be extremely passionate so it makes sense that he would use his endless fascination with medicine as a way to show his affection. He loves his friends so he will find a way to make them borderline indestructible. Malpractice is his love language.

[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