#soup personal stuff

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Supersons +1 prompt answer

If you asked Danny, 12 year old half-ghost hero of Amity Park, how half-life was going, he'd tell you things were mixed.

On the one hand, he had just spent the last three or four months in family/scientist/'this house is a death trap waiting to happen' therapy with Jazz, and by some miracle, it worked. He wasn't sure if this was some kind of dream as his parents poured over years upon years of research, crossing out lines, rewriting equations, and reevaulating everything they thought they knew about ghosts.

Was the shudders family therapy worth not going over how they'd like to dissect him? he's still not sure. The horror.

Not to mention the attention. Danny was sure he was going to throw up if his parents drag him away for more bonding time, only for a ghost to attack and for him to run off to transform. What made it worse was when the Fentons came barrelling out, guns blazing, alternating between getting mad that he'd interrupted their family time, and asking him questions about "Your suspicious spook culture, if you even have one you dangerous delusional delinquent!"

At least they were trying, but Danny was very much comfortable not spilling the beans on the whole half-ghost situation, thank you very much.

And that's why, when Dad proposed to take him to Gotham to show off their latest invention, he jumped at the chance. The home city of the Batman, one of the greatest heroes known to man (except for Martian Manhunter and Superman of course) and Dad promised to take him to Gotham Observatory too. Not to mention how much he wanted to get away from Jazz's smug looks of superiority. Gotham here he comes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian Wayne scowled as he scanned the crowed of scientists with more smarts than sense. Really, a flying toilet seat. For what deviant?

"Maybe they're for people who can fly." Kent piped up beside him. Father had let the two of them run off together, and his company was mildly more appealing than being alone with his thoughts.

"Why would Superman ever need to relieve himself mid-air. I do not believe you would appreciate your father's rear end being on display for all the world to see."

"True." Jon hummed. His voice lowered to a whisper. "You think indecent exposure is what your dad meant by "scoping out any potential future villains?"

Damian gave Jon a flat look. The sooner this convention ended, the better.

The crowded shifted, and the mass of visitors pushed toward a certain corner, where a man large enough to rival Superman's build stood upon a podium, with a boy their age off to the side.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you the latest in FentonWorks' innovations, the Fenton Ghost Zone Radar, soon to revolutionise the study of ghosts!"

"I thought ghosts were a magic thing." Jon said. "You know, stuff Constantine and JLD deal with."

"They are."

"Mixing magic and science is like, like, oil and water. No way this guy's serious, is he?"

"His name is Jack Fenton. That's Daniel Fenton, his son." Damian pointed to the boy in question, looking like he'd seen this scene a hundred times before, but with that knowing glint that promised something deeper. "They're normally spotted alongside Jack's wife, Madeline. Widely regarded as quacks by the larger scientific community for chasing paper-thin theories about ghosts, they've nonetheless gained funding from the government. This is the first time they've left their base of operations in Amity Park for years."

"Woah, you know your stuff, Dami!"

Damian glared at the young Superboy in disguise. "I read the briefing files. Didn't you?"

Kent looked uncomfortable and looked away. "Uhh, maybe?"

"Typical."

"Well, if he's so crazy, then why'd your dad even let him in." Upon another scathing glare, Kent relented. "Oh right, the whole supervillain thing."

"Enough chatter. We'll zero in on the younger Fenton. I intend to squeeze him like a grape, and make Father proud."

"Dami maybe you should be a little nicer-" Only for Damian to march off without him.

Honestly, inane niceties were above someone of his status. Those things were Superboy's job, and if Daniel Fenton wouldn't crack, then Damian was itching to try a new torture technique.

@impyssadobsessions

[chaos-soup-incorporated]

Can i come out from under your bed now please? I’ve been chained here for five days and you’ve only given me a few pieces of dry cereal to eat /bit

you'll take your dry cereal and be grateful

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

we have stew for dinner 😔

[engagemythrusters]

Protecting that which is most precious: soup.

[rosenfey]

I don't think the problem is with posting abt ships as much as the fact that I simply don't have the energy most of the time to actually put my ideas down. and also the underlying anxiety that I don't have anything groundbreaking or novel to offer

[skyward-floored]

Tempted to write a fic where the whole chain gets sick only because I know more about wgat its like when nine people are all sick at once than most people

[currymuttonpizza]

everyone is good friday shitposting but i have to say it got me thinking about back in the day. and i forgot how much the mass of creation SLAPS

[caluski]

I draw and i draw and i draw and i take a moment to cry just a little and I long to be loved and to be held and to be kissed and to be laughed with and cared for. Deep inhale of the cold cold January air, smells like snow and soothes me for a few moments.. Doesn't help for long but isn't it how it goes always. Someone please love me forever

[hirazuki]

Something in the Darkness

Eöl/Aredhel | M | First Age | canon compliant | angst, suggestive, bits of fluff | one-shot [AO3]

Something in the darkness pulled me deeper Something in the madness eased my mind Was I awake or was I dreaming? - Blackmore's Night

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

“I wove an enchantment to lead you here,” he confesses against her, lips moving lazily along the lines of her ribs. “On the day you first rode near these woods.”

He had not intended to tell her – not now; not ever, truly – but the haze of pleasure loosens tongues and this particular instance has left him exceptionally complacent, satisfaction spreading throughout him like molten metal running hot and thick and heavy through the grooves of a mold, and he lies boneless, senseless, in her arms. 

Her hand – that has been absently stroking his back, occasionally coming up to tug at the tangles they have created in his hair – stops.

With a start, Eöl realizes what he has said. 

He braces himself; for claws, for teeth, for temper. She may have come to him wrapped in royalty and fine raiment, but he is under no illusion that the creature he has taken to bed is anything other than as ill-suited for conventional society as he. It would never have taken root between them otherwise, this thing of hunger that they share. He may acknowledge it his for its planting, but she, too, has kept it well-fed; fervently so. It has bloomed shadows, as all things do in this dim land, and they two stand as though reflections across the water’s edge – dark and bright; maker and reaper; each, the other's predator; each, the other’s prey. 

Aredhel laughs. 

It startles him – unexpected, like a sudden storm or eyes in thickets or the sharpness of a twisted antler at one’s back – and he is reminded that wild and unpredictable does not always equate to violence. She is as the forest, and, like the forest, as inclined to play as to the hunt. 

He turns his head to look up at her in confusion, all the same, when he feels the sound under his cheek.

“I know,” she replies, amused, and runs her fingers through the still-damp strands that cling to his face. It is an unconscious act, to brush away any worry, presumably, for her manner is uncommonly gentle with him, more akin to the way he has seen her with the horses. “I have walked with gods in Valinor; did you think I would not recognize when a spell has been laid around me?”

He frowns, solid brows coming together to cast his already severe seeming into deeper relief. “Then why did you – ”

“Try as I might – and believe me, I did – I could not break out!” Another burst of laughter, and it falls like light upon rippling water or the wind dancing in glass chimes, and fades away just as fast, as her mirth settles. She places a careful finger on the bridge of his nose, slowly tracing it all the way down, and lightly taps it at its end. “And you roused my curiosity.”

Eöl chuckles. It is no more than an exhalation, and deep, from a secret place far inside his chest, but it is rare and she is ever the only one to see this side of him, and he is aware of how she delights in it and in the knowledge of it as well. He rises up on his forearms and pulls himself higher, closer to her, sliding his body over her legs and waist until their eyes are level. 

“You should not follow strange enchantments,” he whispers into her lips, and feels the reflection of their mingled breaths warm upon his own. “You never know what you might find.”

“And you should not cast them,” she whispers back, leaning forward until both her words and her mouth are pressed into him. “You never know what you might catch.”

He loves her. 

It is more than the falling shadow of her hair, whose soft weight is currently sweeping over his bareness as she shifts to rest against him, and her skin that is pale and shining as moonlight, and her lips, ripe for the taking like red berries in summer; though it had been desire for these things that had stirred eagerly in his blood at the first.

He loves her and he knows this, despite never having loved anything other than his craft and his woods before, just as he knows it is not the kind of love he has seen nest in others’ eyes. He has found dark things with her, urges that strangle and bruise and choke; they snake like the crawling vines of Nan Elmoth, wrapping around naked limbs and souls alike, in the deep shade where caress all too easily slides to crushing. She has shown no alarm at them, fearless as she is, and has terrible thirsts of her own that he knows she is slaking for the first time, for they have no place in the glistering palaces of her people, with their wide open skies and their fountains in the sun.

She does not do well in cages, and that is another thing he knows; neither does he, else he would have remained in Doriath. But cages are all that is left to them in this world, between the terror in the North and the tearing of the twilight and the arrival of those who have brought fire and fury to these lands, and he is determined that, at the least, it will be a cage of his own making. And so he has taken great care in crafting this one, with its bars of trees and ceiling of stars and winding paths that lead far under the moon. 

They are of a kind, he and she: restless spirits roaming the wilds, ill at ease among their own kin, ever searching for something that will soothe the nameless need that eats away at them; for a place they can abide. 

He thought he had found it, years ago, in these starlit woods. Wrongly; for he is certain he has it now and it casts what came before as immaterial as the mists that hover over the neighboring fields, for now he holds the sun in his sheets, and he is loath to do anything but coil himself around her. He wishes to keep her here, always, and fears what he will do to that end; he will swallow her, if he must. 

It is his fiercest hope – hidden well, behind every glance and within every deed, and it rears its head every time she seeks him – that this holds true for her as well; that it will prove to be enough and she will always stay. But a part of him – the one that reads stones and can taste the tidings in the air and sometimes dreams of sharp eyes and sharper rocks and a city burning in the night – knows that light slips through fingers more surely than water, and the echo of doom has thrummed low in his veins since he first sighted her, a gleam of white in the waning of the year.

Eöl closed his eyes to it then just as he drags his mind away from it now – away from fate, away from ruin, away from anything that is not two circles of blue-gray, almost wholly consumed by the black at their center, and the warmth under his hands. 

“I do hope your curiosity was sated to your satisfaction, my lady,” he offers, returning to her.

Aredhel laughs again and rolls them both over, pinning him down and burying her face into the side of his neck. He allows this of her, going still and docile under her touch; he knows she allows many things of him in turn.

“Nay, my lord,” she says, with teeth around his pulse, and, when she closes in, it is with the excitement of a hound at its quarry and it draws a litany of sounds that no other has ever heard issue from his throat. She relaxes her jaw and releases him, licking at the injury even as she moves to better sit astride him. “Nowhere near.”

[crow-with-a-pencil]

References for my oc in the Salad Family au by @intistone !

Their name is Beetle, they live next to a lake, they have some pet shrimp, and more lore will come when I think of it.

Extra doodles n stuff under the cut

[chiropteracupola]

dress up nice (and don't get any blood on yourself this time, please)

[collaboration with @dxppercxdxver again. we are still going.]

[izzy-b-hands]

im ngl i had a lil breakdown before my shower (which i took just before i went to bed to chill and watch the new eps) abt some thought-id-already-worked-all-thru-it irl stuff that resurfaced on me like trauma tends to and i just

it made everything in the show so. I don't know how to say it right. but i feel seen and understood and emotionally overwhelmed in a safe yet weird way, just like i did with a lot of s1 and I am Feeling So Much akdnfkgb (i cannot stress enough that this is a Good Thing and I'm absolutely thrilled and happy with the new eps and like. Going to be fine mentally I just gotta wrangle this like i have the times before.)

[lord-squiggletits]

It kinda sucks how Optimus Prime is a character who people (in real life) expect to be so Indubitably Good All The Time that they immediately shut down and refuse to acknowledge him whenever he does bad things or fucks up. Like I don't think I've seen any other character in this fandom get the same instantly negative reaction/never talk about him ever treatment that IDW Optimus gets.

Like, it's either him being a cop or the annexation of Earth. But instead of actually engaging with the story and going "so how does being a cop affect the way he treats and is treated by others" or "what led Optimus to annex Earth and how is this a reflection of his ultimately heroic ideal to treat organics as equal to Cybertronians despite the historical racism of his species"

people just instantly shut down and go "oh he's an asshole, he's stupid, he's not my Optimus, he's a bastard, he's edgy" etc etc and refuse to even like fuckin talk about him

It's so incredibly childish lmao especially when the IDW1 continuity in particular is already rife with characters who are also assholes that do stupid/regrettable things but people have no problems talking about/analyzing their stories.

My kingdom for a fandom that's willing to talk about IDW Optimus without immediately shutting down and just going "he's bad he's a bastard he sucks"

[isfjmel-phleg]

My friend wanted to do homework together. The best I could manage was taking notes on a text and constructing a more specific outline, at which point I got too hungry for my brain to function and had to quit. She meanwhile has been here for the last three hours turning what was meant to be a short assignment into an eight-page paper, which she's now editing--and how?! How do you achieve a level of brilliance and self-discipline that allows you to crank out so much in one sitting? I am deeply impressed and a little intimidated but actually mostly just starving can we go now please

[marcygoo]

ok everryone who thinks im cool or is intimidated by me on tthe internet listen to me. im a scared anxious prey animal. im like the bug that people say is more afraid of you than you are of it. im some guy who makes images and then when i have to post them i shake and cry for 10 minutes before i hit post and then shake and cry 10 minutes afterward. i get scared thinking people hate me and want me dead and gone for saying something annoying when the thing i said wasnt even remotely annoying. and i am painfully aware of all of this

[just-aro]

me: a loveless aro

me: introduced to the End Poem of minecraft for the first time literally this week

me: and the universe said i love you because you are love *starts sobbing*