#stop projecting janet

[suburbanforestwitch]

They Can't all be Straight Janet : Erasure of Queerness by Some BL Fans

It kills me when I see a post on here or on tiktok still pretending all BL actors are straight and any sign of affection is just fan service. Sure. That makes complete sense… if you ignore math, experience, and the entire concept of human diversity.

Let’s start with the basics: a percentage of the population is LGBTQIA+. That’s just how people work. So if you put together a group of actors—any group, really—some of them are going to be somewhere on that spectrum. That’s not speculation; that’s statistics.

Now, I happen to be the mom of someone with a theater degree. I’ve been around theater kids since my daughter was in middle school. Theater has always been a space where queer people gather. Because it’s one of the places where self-expression, chosen family, and breaking norms aren’t just tolerated—they’re part of the job description.

So, let’s take that already LGBTQIA-heavy industry and apply it to a genre that specifically focuses on relationships between men. Are we really going to act shocked when queer actors are drawn to that work? Like it’s some kind of wild plot twist?

The idea that entire casts of actors in a genre built around queer relationships are somehow magically exempt from the basic demographics of queerness is just… silly.

But Also—can we talk about how Hollywood is absolutely full of straight couples who met on set and fell in love after one movie or show together? It’s practically a trope at this point. But we’re supposed to believe that in the world of BL, where some of these actors work together across multiple productions, travel for fan meetings, do joint interviews, promotions, live events, for years… absolutely nothing real ever develops? Ever? That feels less like realism and more like willful denial.

That's what it is, denail and erasure—coming from people who want to enjoy queer-coded content without acknowledging actual queer people exist within it.

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill To Die On

This is most of Chapter 1, cutting before the smut. IT DOES GET SPICY THOUGH. 🌶️⚠️ Some of this has been posted before, but figured I'd give you all one nice big chunk of it!

Tim brush his hand idly through his damp hair as he stepped out of the shower.

It had gotten long.

He hadn’t planned to grow it out, it just sort of happened. He’d gotten it cut last summer before he started his sophomore year of college. The start of the semester had bled into midterms. Midterms had proceeded papers and projects. Projects had become final presentations and exams. Classes ended abruptly into a too short winter break of Tim visiting Cass and her team then dragging her home for Christmas. The New Year had been filled with Titans and teammates and fireworks.

He might cut it when it started getting to muggy. Spring had barely broken into the city. It was warm enough not to need heavy coat but cool enough Tim could still wear his favorite leather jacket he’d stolen from Jason. It was a good time of the year.

His hair really had gotten long.

As long as the wig Tim wore when he became Caroline. He tugged at the ends of the hair where, if he tilted his head down to look up under his lashes, the black strands brushed the top of his shoulders.

Tim hadn’t been Caroline Hill in a long time now.

Or Alvin Draper.

Or Timothy Drake— CEO to be.

He hadn’t been anyone, really. Instead he had been struggling to find out who Tim Wayne was beyond the expectations of dead parents, missions hidden behind masks, and under the weight everyone else’s needs.

He still really didn’t know.

It felt more like a game of finding out what he wasn’t than falling into what he was. Or what he liked to be.

He could be a ruthless businessman, but that was Timothy Drake, wasn’t it? That was his father’s Jack’s legacy and Janet’s cold, confident smile. He didn’t like being that.

He didn’t like being them.

He could be whatever the mission needed. He could do recon, hacking, infiltration, fighting—a replacement, like Jason said. The word didn’t have the same sting that it used to. Replacement. It was almost a word of respect now. It had taken a lot of talking (and a lot of alcohol) for Jason and Tim to get somewhere good, but they both got it now. Red Robin was whoever the team needed.

He was tired of having to fill in cracks.

He beyond tired of just existing for everyone else’s needs.

The weight of that had nearly broken him.

Had broken him.

Tim watched the black strands of hair slip over the spider web of scars on his left hand.

Bruce had assured him that there would always be a place with the Bats if Tim still wanted it. Tim didn’t know if he would. Tim refused to just fill in the space that was left open anymore. It took a lot of sessions with his Justice League approved therapist for Tim to even get to that line in the sand, but he understood how important it was now.

He had to stop being the replacement. The other Robin. The other son.

It was a problem.

Another problem was, he didn’t always think he was Tim Wayne, even with the pieces that he was slowly learning.

Tim dug around under his sink, coming up with the purple case he’d stolen from Steph to keep Caroline’s things in. The robin red lipstick was on the top. Slowly he uncapped it and smeared it almost recklessly across his lips.

Tim no longer stared back out from the mirror.

Maybe Caroline deserved a night out.

It had been a long time, after all.

-

Clothing was an issue.

Tim had grown. Not much mind, but enough that the shoulders were a little tight and bottoms a little short. Well, the bottoms weren’t a huge matter in that moment. Caroline wanted to go out to a club after all; they could work with a too short skirt. The top though… Caroline adjusted the black strap of the lacy bra. Even with the right padding in, it still didn’t look right.

She chewed on her lower lip, still messily smeared with bright red, as she held another top up against her chest. That wouldn’t do either. Caroline gave the box of old clothing a little kick. Hum. She should paint her toenails.

Focus, Caroline.

It was time to look outside of her box.

Fifteen minutes and a pair of scissors later and one of Alvin’s too large and nondescript red t-shirts had become a drop shoulder crop top. It wasn’t the most amazing fit, but as she dressed it up with the right necklace looped a few times around her throat, a splash of red and leather in the bracelets (cover the scars, they were identifying marks), she figured she could pull off the look—at least for getting sweaty in some dark club.

Ever grateful for quick drying polish, Caroline did a rush job of all her nails and waved them impatiently dry before she did her make up properly. Some contouring, false lashes, the right highlights, step by step Caroline felt herself come alive again until staring back from there mirror was no Tim or Timothy or Alvin—just her.

Just Caroline.

She let out the breath she had been holding.

-

Finding the right club took a little bit. Her old favorite had shut down, apparently. That wasn’t uncommon with the short lifespan of clubs and even less so in Gotham with the money laundering and drug rings that often went with the clubs, but it still sucked. Caroline wanted somewhere that if someone got very handsy on the dance floor there wouldn’t be issue with everything that was carefully and securely tucked away in her underwear. The person might not want all that, which was perfectly fine as long they parted ways amicably.

(And if not, well, one of her bracelets could be shockingly persuasive.)

She tucked her fake ID back away in the hidden pocket of her bra, not minding the bit of a show it gave. Tim would have to make her a new one; she didn’t needed the fake age anymore. Then, with a steadying breath, she entered the thudding music, bright lights, and throng of bodies of the club. It took a moment to adjust to it all. This wasn’t always Caroline’s favorite thing, but they needed to relax already. Any tenser and something was going to snap.

Besides, this is where the boys failed and Caroline thrived; slipping between bodies, flirting, giving enough to capture attention without actually giving anything away. Dealing with a mass of people was a complex game of chess and Caroline very much intended to be the conquering queen.

The bar was the first stop, ordering a fruity martini so that she could sip at the drink and people watch for a time. It was always good to get a feel for things before diving in. It also gave her time to get used to being her again as she fielded a few flirtatious advances which landed her another drink in turn for the first dance of the night with her. She didn’t linger long.

She wasn’t sure what she was in the mood for. Caroline flitted across the dance floor from partner to partner, just letting herself enjoy the thud of the beat and the press of bodies. She always moved on before people could get too invested (or too handsy).

Caroline was on the edge of the floor, slipping away from one dance and looking for the next when a laughing group at a close by table shoved one of their number her way. She took a tentative step back, but didn’t actually need to. The poor sacrificial lamb found his footing rather gracefully.

He ducked his head with a crooked smile that was actually somehow charming. “Sorry about them.”

“Stay on target, Danny!” someone called from the table to cheers and jeers.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Really sorry. Just, ah, I maybe have been talking about how pretty you are and how much I want to dance with you for, like, the last twenty minutes. Feel free to tell me to fuck off if this is rude, but would you like to dance?”

Caroline tilted her head and tried not to smile in too predatory a way. “You’ve been watching me?”

“It’s hard not to, with how you move.”

She laughed at that. This one was so earnest. That was odd for Gotham.

“Once dance,” Caroline said, holding out a hand. “Unless you have the moves and then maybe you’ll get more.”

Danny took the hand and brushed a kiss against it. “One dance, to start.”

-

Despite any doubts that Caroline might have had, Danny knew how to move. She’d lost count of the song they had danced to about the time that Danny’s hand had first slid up her shirt. She rolled her hips, grinding back against Danny’s tight jeans and growing arousal. Danny followed her lead beautifully.

His teeth scrapped lightly against her neck and she threw back her head for him, letting him suck a mark into her skin. She enjoyed the thought of Tim being stuck with a reminder of her night out. (Maybe it would convince him to have some fun of his own.)

Danny’s hand slid down from where it had been cupping a breast, traced over her stomach, and moved to her skirt. Caroline caught it before Danny could do more than slip a few fingertips past the band.

“Sorry,” he murmured into her ear.

“Not that,” Caroline said. She turned her head to press a kiss against the corner of Danny’s mouth, smearing robin red against his tan skin. “Just need to let you know there’s more down there than you might be expecting.”

She held her breath as tightly as she held Danny’s hand. It this went bad, she wanted to be able to act quickly.

Danny’s huff of air sounded amused.

She relaxed her grip slightly.

The hand slipped a little lower.

“To me, any combination of bits is a good combination. I’m up for all sorts of surprises,” Danny assured her. His fingers ran over just the top edge of her underwear, not really touching anything, but applying just enough pressure that she shuddered. “She’ okay to use?”

“Yes. She, her, Caroline.”

“Caroline.” Danny said her name like it was a prayer.

She guided his hand a little lower.

His touch stayed almost teasing and Caroline had to alternate between pressing forward into his hand and grinding backwards against him until Danny pulled them so close together that she could barely move. And fuck, it had been too long for any of them. She half thought that if she put in the effort, or Danny’s hand dipped any lower, that she could manage to come right there on the dance floor.

That was not how she wanted tonight to go.

She ran her hands through Danny’s hair and tilted his head where she wanted it. So that she could nip at his ear lobe. “Tell me you live close.”

“In walking distance.”

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #28

July 19-26 2024

The EPA announced the award of $4.3 billion in Climate Pollution Reduction Grants. The grants support community-driven solutions to fight climate change, and accelerate America’s clean energy transition. The grants will go to 25 projects across 30 states, and one tribal community. When combined the projects will reduce greenhouse gas pollution by as much as 971 million metric tons of CO2, roughly the output of 5 million American homes over 25 years. Major projects include $396 million for Pennsylvania’s Department of Environmental Protection as it tries to curb greenhouse gas emissions from industrial production, and $500 million for transportation and freight decarbonization at the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach.

The Biden-Harris Administration announced a plan to phase out the federal government's use of single use plastics. The plan calls for the federal government to stop using single use plastics in food service operations, events, and packaging by 2027, and from all federal operations by 2035. The US government is the single largest employer in the country and the world’s largest purchaser of goods and services. Its move away from plastics will redefine the global market.

The White House hosted a summit on super pollutants with the goals of better measuring them and dramatically reducing them. Roughly half of today's climate change is caused by so called super pollutants, methane, hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs), and nitrous oxide (N2O). Public-private partnerships between NOAA and United Airlines, The State Department and NASA, and the non-profit Carbon Mapper Coalition will all help collect important data on these pollutants. While private firms announced with the White House plans that by early next year will reduce overall U.S. industrial emissions of nitrous oxide by over 50% from 2020 numbers. The summit also highlighted the EPA's new rule to reduce methane from oil and gas by 80%.

The EPA announced $325 million in grants for climate justice. The Community Change Grants Program, powered by President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act will ultimately bring $2 billion dollars to disadvantaged communities and help them combat climate change. Some of the projects funded in this first round of grant were: $20 million for Midwest Tribal Energy Resources Association, which will help weatherize and energy efficiency upgrade homes for 35 tribes in Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, $14 million to install onsite wastewater treatment systems throughout 17 Black Belt counties in Alabama, and $14 million to urban forestry, expanding tree canopy in Philadelphia and Pittsburgh.

The Department of Interior approved 3 new solar projects on public land. The 3 projects, two in Nevada and one in Arizona, once finished could generate enough to power 2 million homes. This comes on top of DoI already having beaten its goal of 25 gigawatts of clean energy projects by the end of 2025, in April 2024. This is all part of President Biden’s goal of creating a carbon pollution-free power sector by 2035. 

Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen pledged $667 million to global Pandemic Fund. The fund set up in 2022 seeks to support Pandemic prevention, and readiness in low income nations who can't do it on their own. At the G20 meeting Yellen pushed other nations of the 20 largest economies to double their pledges to the $2 billion dollar fund. Yellen highlighted the importance of the fund by saying "President Biden and I believe that a fully-resourced Pandemic Fund will enable us to better prevent, prepare for, and respond to pandemics – protecting Americans and people around the world from the devastating human and economic costs of infectious disease threats,"

The Departments of the Interior and Commerce today announced a $240 million investment in tribal fisheries in the Pacific Northwest. This is in line with an Executive Order President Biden signed in 2023 during the White House Tribal Nations Summit to mpower Tribal sovereignty and self-determination. An initial $54 million for hatchery maintenance and modernization will be made available for 27 tribes in Alaska, Washington, Oregon, and Idaho. The rest will be invested in longer term fishery projects in the coming years.

The IRS announced that thanks to funding from President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act, it'll be able to digitize much of its operations. This means tax payers will be able to retrieve all their tax related information from one source, including Wage & Income, Account, Record of Account, and Return transcripts, using on-line Individual Online Account.

The IRS also announced that New Jersey will be joining the direct file program in 2025. The direct file program ran as a pilot in 12 states in 2024, allowing tax-payers in those states to file simple tax returns using a free online filing tool directly with the IRS. In 2024 140,000 Americans were able to file this way, they collectively saved $5.6 million in tax preparation fees, claiming $90 million in returns. The average American spends $270 and 13 hours filing their taxes. More than a million people in New Jersey alone will qualify for direct file next year. Oregon opted to join last month. Republicans in Congress lead by Congressmen Adrian Smith of Nebraska and Chuck Edwards of North Carolina have put forward legislation to do away with direct file.

Bonus: American law enforcement arrested co-founder of the Sinaloa Cartel, Ismael "El Mayo" Zambada. El Mayo co-founded the cartel in the 1980s along side Joaquín "El Chapo" Guzmán. Since El Chapo's incarceration in the United States in 2019, El Mayo has been sole head of the Sinaloa Cartel. Authorities also arrested El Chapo's son, Joaquin Guzman Lopez. The Sinaloa Cartel has been a major player in the cross border drug trade, and has often used extreme violence to further their aims.

[currentfandomkick]

Pt2 reincarnated Tim gets the Wail aka Phantom Shrike

Part one here

Virgil let Tim in, leaning against the wall as Tim looked about his room, clearly searching for where to start as his head looked everywhere, largely at the walls and floor, but not directly at Virgil.

“So," Tim began as he wrung with his hands awkwardly. "I’m going to guess you noticed the early reflexes thing and flinching when you use your powers or Nightwing lights up his escrima sticks?”

Vigil raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t need to be a detective to see that a mile away.”

Tim took a seat at last, settling the urge to scream as the beanbag chair engulfed him. “So, Dick told you all about the uh, JJ incident, or do i get to explain that?”

Virgil moved back to his desk, moving his project to the side. “Just that it was bad.”

“It was.” Bad enough to revive a former lifetime and activate his meta gene. “Kind of shot him, but not me? He’s still in a coma from it.”

Tim waited for Virgil’s reaction. Virgil merely turned to face Tim again, sitting backwards in his swivel chair with an unusually neutral expression.

“I, uh, always had a thing with electricity before that.”

Tim fiddled with his hands again. Counting taps in twos and threes. Dad mentioned it after his last anger management session as a grounding technique. Tim found it… useful. For other things. Largely subduing shrieks, and kicking his trauma triggers in the nuts—when he was certain it was rude to break out tetris anyways.

“Mom called it ‘soul memory hugs’, and not to look into it when I was a kid.” Tim continued, tapping out one of his favorite songs in a modified version of morse code.

He remembers going to Janet in the middle of the night, asking where the nice red head girl went, and why she was crying when he got shocked in his sleep and everything went green. Janet just soothed his concerns and reminded him that the Talons don't go for society kids, but maybe the little girl lost someone and Tim reminded her of him. That he was not responsible for the girl and to let her come to him on her own terms, but to keep a few back ups prepared "just in case" and had him sleep with salt in hand and an iron bracelet.

“Didn’t stop the flashes of," he still couldn't adequately describe the flickers of his pre-Tim life. Of a realm made of ectoplasm the way theirs was made of carbon. The sentient food, watching people walk off injuries that should have crippled them, or the Fenton Driving Watch for the weather. Tucker's laugh and his varied PDAs, or Sam's smile promising someone pain. Dani's joy when she stabilized and befriended Val. Val's everything. "Of something,” he finished lamely.

It'd all been so difficult to pin down back then, as it was too vague without the rest of his memories giving context. A hand holding his. Someone protecting him, other times being punched in the arm or patted on his shoulder almost in condolence of some sort.

“Usually just a warm feeling that uh, stuck if it was static, no pun intended!”

Virgil shook his head with a smile, leaning into the cushion of the chair. “Sure thing Rob, keep going.”

“But when I started going out as Robin," it began a bit before, when he was gathering more evidence of Bruce as Batman to validate his threat of exposing Bruce's secret identity if that was the only way to the man to stop and get help. The sense of dejavu and the stray thought of 'Wes is rolling in his grave' that he never could explain away…

"As Robin," Tim repeated after a beat of silence. "and got hit anytime? It, it changed." his taps stopped being to any song at all. Mouth pulled to one flat, Tim continued. "Flickers of something," he leaned his head to one side, before moving it to the other as he spoke. "Became more and bits of something else.”

Virgil leaned back minutely, face starting to tinge with pinches of worry. “Do any of the Bats know about that?”

Tim shook his head. “B wasn’t, uh,” Tim fiddled with his hands more, not taps or morse code. More hand wringing and flexing phalanges. “In any state to even recognize I wasn’t Robin the Second when I started,” he confessed.

Virgil seemed frozen, like he was mentally recoiling as he moved from his chair to perch on his bed to see Tim and be closer to him for some reason. And now far more attentive than the earlier lull.

Tim shrugged off his concern, as it wasn't like anybody was unaware of how badly Bruce took losing Jason, or how badly Batman took flying solo. People are excellent at ignoring inconveniences to them. and a compromised bad was inconvenient to the GEL.

“No one noticed in the field as Robin was still who he called. My job was to deescalate him, not the other way around.”

Virgil pinched his brow. “So your mentor was violent, and you mentored him rather than mentoring you.”

“Yeah, for most of the three years I pieced him back together. He had me go through the ringer and work under a lot of mentors for combat. Some villains too.”

Tim briefly wondered if Lady Shiva’s offer would extend to helping him take out Joker… And if he could live with himself if he did. Joker killed Jason and was a contributing reason to his parents' hesitation to letting him take up a mantel again in Gotham.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, trying to push that thought aside and the relief of it out of his mind. “Didn’t really tell B things until it was mandatory or necessary. And I wasn’t Robin like Dick and Jay were. I wasn’t and won’t be his son. Just the kid pulling his ass out of his own head and enforcing his old code on his ass. With whatever weapon I need to keep others safe.”

“Hey, Rob?" Virgil interrupted. "You do realize what that sounds like out loud, right?” Virgil's form radiated tension.

Tim could only give a strained smile in return. “Dad and Step Mom lectured me on it and not sacrificing myself for someone that can’t even see me, not the people they wish I was.”

Virgil shook his head as he leaned back. “No wonder you’re off patrol in Gotham.”

Tim let out a long exhale through his nose. “Yeah. Dad sort of wasn’t around until after Mom died, and uh, fixed his priorities.”

“Deathlike do it,” Virgil muttered to himself bitterly.

Tim tactfully ignored that as he knew it was something for Virgil to reveal to his family (not being dead) not Tim’s brand of meddling.

“So uh, Dad always knew about the memory hugs, and more recently the uh, flickers? I've been calling the longer and more detailed memory hugs that. A lot of people get flickers of previous lives and shit, so no need to tell Bats when he frankly couldn’t tell ass, elbow and knees apart.”

Virgil whistled long and low. “Cool, cool… so what does that have to do with the Joker Incident and the extra sensory shit you’ve clearly got going on.”

Tim took a deep breath. “Joker uh, used electric shock repeatedly as a way to torture me. Tried to re-write my memories to be his kid, not B's."

Virgil froze.

“Which is ridiculous. If anything, B was my kid." Tim curled his toes as the memories tried to creep back in. He wished that etiquette allowed him to play tetris right now—to distract him from the phantom sensations.

"Same thing happened in the last life and it," he struggled how to articulate the change of impressions and images to the meshing of time and emotional intermingling. "It stopped being flickers."

He bite his inner cheek and could feel the barely noticeable mouth scars pinking as he bit down. All while Virgil's eyes watched his every move. "More, more like flashbacks, I guess. A lot of time being tied down with an asshole demanding I kill my dad and join him as his evil apprentice. Sometimes it was bleeding memories and superimposed images of people I knew then onto people I know now. And it uh, kicked my meta-gene into activating.”

Virgil finally moved, visibly tabling most of what he said. The tension in his own shoulders dropped when he realized he wouldn't have to go back to that horrid laughing place in his mind . “What kinds of activating, and how’d they emerge?”

“A few my step mom clocked—I could hear better and had a larger pitch range that my voice cracking couldn’t hide. Mostly on their own but the uh, scream one is uh, a work in progress on emerging still.”

“So you can hear people coming from further away?” Virgil surmised.

“Not exactly. Its uh, complicated<" Tim let his shoulders and hands do the talking again. "A local eco-terrorist and meta is helping me with where it overlaps on her turf. Apparently plants can hear a lot more than we thought and have opinions on my singing skills. Mainly, that they suck.”

Virgil took a deep breath and looked up. Tim waited for him to give the okay to keep going.

Virgil waved him on once he was done pleading to the ceiling for something to make this more bearable.

“So uh, Ivy is teaching me how to understand plant languages, in exchange for beach cleanups and something I already planned to and had in the works.”

“A rogue is teaching you about your powers, and the adult who you were monitoring in hindsight has no clue.” Virgil rubbed his face before looking up. “And Dick, he looped in?”

“Not yet, I uh, want to know more before becoming a pet project for the extended Bats, you know?”

Virgil conceded that much.

“And its only one aspect the rogue knows! She helps a lot of metas hide their abilities and teaches them how to cope and work with it on their terms. B knows about her doing that and doesn’t interfere with that part of her work. Everyone knows about her doing it.”

“But not regarding you?”

“Its," Tim scrambled to find the right word. "Its complicated.”

“A lot of things with Bats are.”

“Look," Tim held his hands up in surrender. "My dad will go down for attempted murder, if not murder one, if B is around me anymore. I don’t know what they said, but Dad found out about Robin a few weeks after I escaped the JJ incident…”

Virgil paused, face loosening as something clicked. Shoulders slack, he muttered, “you almost died, didn’t you?”

Tim bit his inner cheeks and scars, tapping a littler harder than before. “Legally dead a few times during it, and uh, got to relive the times I died in my last life.”

“How Bad?”

Tim could feel Maddie cutting into him, could see her comparing his insides to Ember’s.

“Mad scientist parents found out I stopped being fully human. It, it was, it was bad.”

“Shit.”

Tim swallowed dryly. “Yeah. Uh, I was hoping, no pressure or obligation, if you’d be okay helping with exposure therapy with electricity. Yours doesn’t sound the same as, as,” Tim felt that urge to scream grow in his throat. He clamped his hands over his mouth and used that trick from Fear Toxin.

“Tim?!”Virgil stood up.

5 things he could touch. His mouth, shoes, ground under his feet, the chair he was sitting on, his clothes.

4 things he can see. Virgil, door, poster, desk.

3 things he can hear. His breathing (too quick), Virgil’s static field, hum from the lights.

2 things he can smell. Stress and BO.

1 thing he can taste. His teeth.

Tim dropped his hands as his throat loosened to safe speaking levels as he repeated the steps. “Sorry, just uh, some stress requires screaming now and it, its not safe to be in the blast radius.” Tim ran a hand over his face. “Learning pitch control still and the screams tend to uh, level things. Missions are fine, the, the flashbacks…”

Virgil nodded slowly. “Not far off from Canary then. Talking about JJ triggers it?”

Tim nodded with a hard swallow. “Talking about the, the memories from the life where my parents uh, killed me and the dying by them after half dying from fixing an invention of theirs and having multi-dimensional portal kill and revive me simultaneously multiple times does it too.”

Static opened and shut his mouth. “Flashbacks frequent?”

“Yeah, kinda. Telling my body we’re not being strapped down and vivisected is uh, not something it likes to believe. And survival first, questions later. Fear gas is so much easier to handle,” he complained.

Virgil nodded slower this time. Tim knew it was a lot to take in.

“So, a Canary Cry?” Virgil began once the silence began to stretch to uncomfortable.

“Kind of?” Tim read her file enough before just in case, and he had clear add-ons she didn’t have. “Enhanced hearing too, but I can use infra sound and hear it if I tune into it. Also can hear the weather more than usual.”

“More than—you could hear the weather before?” Virgil stared at him.

“Assumed it was the autism,” Tim dismissed. “Could be both now.”

Virgil shook his head, possibly grumbling about 'white boys' under his breath. “Any other metas in the family?”

“Not that are still around. Dad’s cousin had a similar voice ability,” Tim talked around the issue of Black Canary Senior being his disowned cousin. “But never met her. Fled long before I was born on Dad’s side. Mom’s is a mystery in general unless you ask for someone specific about a specific event or topic.”

Virgil shook his head. “Okay, but are you sure nothing else has gone on, anything unusual?”

“Not that I can think of off the top of my head. Broke down Batman’s resistance to me being Robin using what Mom taught me about destroying my enemy’s mental fortitude, so… I don’t think so.”

“Think on it. And I can help with the exposure therapy thing if you want, but getting any help for all of this besides me?”

“Step mom, Dad, and Ivy. Robin’s supportive but doesn’t know any specifics… I think. She caught me during training on a surveillance mission, only knows some powers. Dad, step mom and me are the only ones that know about all of them.”

Virgil sighed. “Bats can’t know?”

“Not if we want my dad to stay out jail.”

Virgil looked up at his ceiling. “Planning to your tell your friends?”

“…When I have a better idea of how to control the screaming part. They were already convinced I’ve been meta since we met.”

“Might have been.”

Oh, Tim had not thought that part through.

“…maybe? I’ll have to work that out at home… and thanks. I mean it.”

“No problem man, just try not to mix me with anyone you knew last life, or not too bad.”

“You’re safe. More worried about mixing current friends with my dead ones.”

Virgil shooed Tim out.

Tim relaxed, just a touch, before going back to cases in the commons and catching Stephanie up on Titans BS with everyone chiming in.

It was good to be home.

—

Tim knows, logically, he can tell his team about being murdered by his parents in his last life. He also remembers meeting Greta and knowing she wasn’t truly Dead, which is something he can’t explain fully still…

Virgil might have had a point about being some sort of meta (or maybe magic?) long before the JJ incident. Most kids can’t evade Batman and Robin for years just to take pictures of them mid-flight.

Maybe a sound nullification ability or something to that effect… he can bribe Ivy to help experiment with it later.

The problem is he doubts Kon wouldn’t lead the charge with his dad to summon and beat up said former filicidal parents. And he knows that the whole team would be on board if they knew.

He would rather not see Maddie or Jack again. Especially while awake. Jazz showing up a bit different in his dreams and complaining about his broken sleep schedule making it harder to visit was something he remained on the fence about telling anyone.

Possibly harass Captain Marvel about it as that guy said nothing about people’s shit unless it becomes a game of which plane of existence you can stay on… but even then, tracking him down without bat-tech is a game of whackamole.

There’s also the complication of Tim being very aware he likes Kon, and not necessarily as a friend alone. Which. He doesn’t have time for the additional sexuality crisis on top of his varied identity crises at the moment and the media’s questions about the two Robins and if Robin was gender fluid, flux or only out as a girl in Gotham and a young man elsewhere. He cannot add ‘crushing on a teammate’ to his list when he and Stephanie only broke up a week before the JJ incident and are just now easing back into their old friendship. He doesn’t want the amputated feeling of losing a friend again because he keeps catching feelings for them, and is 10,000% certain he should not touch romance until he’s in a better mental state.

He has Problems on his plate, and it’s already overflowing. He’d rather not break.

And he loves his friends. But he has no doubt that Cassie would set up the pitchforks rather than stop any of the retribution his father was undoubtedly planning. He can’t gift-wrap his friends as minions in his dad’s crusade to fuck over the Fentons across dimensions, spacetime and afterlife status.

He did manage to make a small list of oddities for himself about his capacity to do things that were vaguely ghostly or similar to powers he’d pieced together.

So far potential intangibility or density shifting, invisibility, faster recovery rate than non-metas yet slow for a meta—speed seems dependent on how likely the injury is to kill him. His high tolerance for the cold was making sense the further in Winter he got and the more he’d see flickers of Frostbite training him in his last life.

Whatever an ‘ice core’ is, seems cool. He may have taken to playing with discarded freeze guns and be reworking them to be smaller and more compact. Possibly to add to his future vigilante ID, or to be a general weapon as a civilian given non-lethal status and his ability to add a melting rate adjustment knob of some sort, and call 911.

Bart saw him with it, grinned manically, and joined in helping him improve and adjust it. Slobo joined them both.

Cassie took one look at them and declared it ‘not her problem if they freeze themselves’ while Kon was out on another press tour thing.

Tim pretended not to note those had increased lately only on days Tim was staying with Just Us for non-mission things and Kon’s increase in excuses to avoid him in general.

If Kon wanted distance, then he’d get it. Even if it stung. Kon’s time and his life to spend as he pleases. And clearly, Tim displeases him. /worthless. Monster. Failure. Stand-in. No wonder you’ve always been a loser—/

“So, for Robin time or outside the mask?” Greta asked when she caught the three near the end of a schematics debate.

“Not sure yet,” Tim admitted. “Rogues are weirdly chill with me in civvies lately. But that could be Ivy being Ivy.”

Bart and Slobo’s debate died at that. “Ivy?”

“Uh, Poison Ivy’s plants outted civilian me for something i was dealing with. She’s decided she’s helping with fine-tuning my control on it and gave me one of her ‘protected by’ pins.”

Greta hummed, floating nearer while Bart was buzzing in his place.

“and its a good thing?”

“Other than her shipping me and my ex? Parents approve of the additional support and it’s made intel gathering easier. She was right about the hearing range increase being a bitch to deal with daily.”

Cassie came in with their takeout then, and everyone dispelled to their usual nonsense.

“So, Ivy ships you and your ex?” Greta began with innocently enough.

Tim debated banging his head against the table.

“My civvie self and Gotham’s Robin,” he clarified. “And only enough to throw cuddle pollen on her and lock us together in… varied situations. And laugh about it.”

Cassie blinked at him slowly. “You are being teased by a Rogue who ships civilian you, with a vigilante.”

“… to be fair I am getting plant speak lessons, but yeah.”

“Rob, what the fuck,” Cassie shook her head.

Tim shrugged. “Its Ivy. A safe distraction for the minors she fights is her preferred MO. if it’s just Bats she can and will use sex pollen. If kids or unclear on minor status are involved, cuddle pollen galore.”

“Uh huh.” Cassie and Greta share a look. “So you dated girl Robin, before she became Robin?”

“She was Spoiler first, and I gave her tips on managing Bruce’s ass when I uh,” Tim still didn’t know how to explain ‘forcibly removed from vigilante activities as his dad worried about him dying in a cape like the last Robin, so Tim was forced to pass the buck of Bruce’s mental instability onto his ex-girlfriend and close friend, Spoiler, and coaches her in Bruce Wrangling at a distance’.

“Forced semi-retirement?” Cissie suggested as she stole a slice of pizza, cringing at Tim’s. Which was all his as Bart didn’t care for it. Sucker’s bet on keeping their slices safe from speedster snatching. Amateurs; clearly they never went to boarding school.

“That,” Tim took a bite of his Canadian bacon and pineapple goodness. “And also she’s officially Oracle’s Robin," he swallowed. "Just B’s for combat scenarios. Dad has decided to threaten B’s living status for her too.”

“Rob,” Slobo interrupted. “The fuck.”

“…in my defense, she asked me out a week after almost killing me the first time.”

“Your dad, not other Robin!”

“First time?!”

“She prefers bricks as her projectiles.” Tim wiped his hands clean after his first slice, humming as he went over the blueprint… how should he compensate for his screams and Wail?

“Oh, and she aimed at my head. She’s into three section staffs lately which is a lot less deadly.”

“Rob. She asked you out after almost killing you?” Bart clarified.

“… not on purpose but yeah.”

“She asked you out by accident?”

“No, almost killing part. She’s gotten better aim since, and is following the no killing until you’re not a bat-affiliate rule.”

His team shared looks he didn't bother to check. The urge to analyze could spiral into another screaming attack if he didn't nip it in the bud.

“So not getting back together with her?” Greta clarified with a smile that screamed Gossip Detected.

He let her have either way, even with the looks Cissie, Bart, and Cassie shared.

———-

Let me know if i missed any tags ^^

[mybeingthere]

Australian artist Marina Strocchi (website marinastrocchi.com). Janet McKenzie writes about her in the Studio International (2022):

"Strocchi was born in Melbourne in 1961 to an Italian father and a third-generation mother of British and German descent. Originating from the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy, her father, Giacomo Strocchi, was passionate about politics and was also a key figure in the Brooks Crescent protests that sought to stop plans to demolish period houses in Melbourne and replace them with high-rise public housing. He fought with the Italian partisans during the war and was decorated for bravery, but the war took its toll, and as with many refugees and migrants to Australia, the trauma was played out in family life and was witnessed by his children.

...............................

By the 1950s and 60s, the children of politicised Australians, and those of traumatised refugees and migrants experienced relative prosperity, but they were also sensitive to the complexity of their inheritance. The impact of this generation is inestimable and is responsible for many of the most important cultural and intellectual developments and stellar achievements in the art world in Australia since. Strocchi’s independent path as an artist and the first art coordinator of the Ikuntji Art Centre at Haasts Bluff (1992-1997) was necessarily born of a plethora of complex factors. Her father’s larger than life presence impacted her emotional development and his politically charged behaviour meant she could not turn her back on society’s ills. Her mother, Nona May’s example, and creative attitude within their home life showed a creative means of building a fulfilling, resilient life.

Strocchi’s dedication to the arts as a tool for the betterment of humanity shares Counihan’s politically charged example, although hers was intuitively sought. From 1984 to 1987, while in her early 20s, she travelled extensively, to Europe where she visited museums, churches and galleries and explored family roots (Italy, France, Spain, England) and to the US and Mexico. Back in Australia and with a growing awareness of how art could be a force for good, and possessing both empathy and curiosity, she was persuaded by friends to visit Central Australia. The inspiring achievements of the Papunya Tula Artists’ Company, established in 1972, and other projects that were developing, particularly those for women, led to her decades-long commitment towards empowering the lives of First Nations people through art. She is quick to point out that her motives were not intentional: “It’s only looking back that one could say this – I did come up against naysayers – people who wanted to see failure and restrict painting to men, but I listened to the First Nations people and was supported by Wayne Eager, who had experience from Roar Studios and growing up with parents who were artists.”

https://www.studiointernational.com/.../marina-strocchi...#

[whoopsyeahokay]

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating (not on you). fighting. harassment. possessive/protective. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - E

E is for the effort Wally will make to keep a smile on your face. He won't admit it, but actions speak louder and his are all out screaming.

The music pounds, upbeat and frenetic, everyone writhing in the living room like it's Studio 54. Drinks spill over the brims of red solos, rowdy, raucous, celebrating another victory by the Devils. Wally feels good and loose and ready to party, E in his blood and whiskey in his cup. Ever the lovesick boyfriend Janet trained him to be, he performs; his hand on her hip as she grinds her ass against him. She doesn't care that he won't get hard for her, but she scowls when, four songs in, he starts to plump up.

Because there you are like angelic visitation, surrounded by your friends who fade into the ether along with the rest of the world as you step onto the makeshift dancefloor in a teeny skirt and a top that's all cleavage and collarbone. You toss your head back, hips gyrating in a tease that snares Wally's attention, eyes closed as you lose yourself to the rhythm.

Wally's mouth waters.

He wants to fuck between your tits, to fuck you in that itty bitty skirt, to fuck you with those thigh-high boots still on, and fuck baby, you know how to make an entrance. But Janet drags him to the kitchen and tells him to get her a drink, no ice, extra vodka and he obliges for the image he has to project. His buddies are crowded around the keg, boisterous, teasing each other. Travis calls over everyone's heads to ask Janet when her awkward fawn of a step-sister became a fox.

Wally's knuckles whiten around the vodka bottle.

Two hours later and Wally's sober, his eyes sharp, his body rigid as he watches Travis try to woo you with washed-up oneliners and too much touching. His fingers in your hair, his hand on your waist, pressuring you into playing beer bong with him so he can stand behind you and guide every toss.

After the game, he tries to take you somewhere private, "It'll be good, I promise." And you shove him away, turning only to be grabbed by the wrist, looking for someone to help without making a scene. Wally's eyes lock with yours and his blood boils when he sees tears in the corners. That's fucking it.

The music is too loud and everyone's too drunk to notice Wally grab Travis by the shirt and push him through the door into the room by the stairs. The laundry room, Wally doesn't realize, on his knees over Travis, one fist in Travis' shirt while the other beats his fucking face in. The only thing that prevents Wally from killing the guy is your voice begging him to stop.

Wally's up in an instant, cradling your face with bloody fingers, forehead pressed to yours, "It's okay, baby, he won't touch you again." A deep, filthy kiss, another, another. Travis groans; Wally spits on him as he walks by, escorting you through the laundry room to the back door. Down the porch steps and to his car, his hand never leaving yours.

He thanks Christ that his parents moved him into the apartment above the garage over spring break. It's a bachelor pad disaster, but he'll worry about décor when he doesn't have you trembling in his arms, head on his shoulder, sitting in his lap just a fraction too far from where you should be.

His hands gently slide up your legs to your thighs, gripping, urging you forward, "Come here, baby girl...sit where you know I want you." He whispers, hand still tacky with Travis' blood, fingers combing your hair back to see your face. Beautiful, big eyes and tearstained red cheeks. "Let me help you forget..."

Janet texts him, the boys call him, and Wally turns off his phone. Cock-deep inside you, kissing you like he's trying to erase the night before he had you under him. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, thigh-high boots still on.

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

alphabetical navigation:

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

linear navigation:

B T K A F P V R M S D C I J H W N O E X G L Y U Q Z

[froggyfeetsies]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. So I couldn't stop thinking about smth from @harleyshahas fic rocky horror blackice show, and here we are ִֶָ☾.

Spoilers for this brilliant fic under the cut!!

i have so much love for this fic, i read it when it came out, and every once in a while i'm minding my own business and i'll be like "that audacious bitch took his damn hat" 😂

Tooth was dressed up as Janet, but.... theres totally time for her to do a full outfit and makeup change in the time it would take for those two to finish their fondue they aint goin' nowhere 😂

my fan theory is she caught him!! he was too busy trying to keep it together and shes 1ft nothing tall on a good day compared to mr long furby himself, totally makes sense he'd get busted!! ✨

anyway, go read it, absolutely brilliant ⭐️

[dazii-kons]

reverse dc au but its not robins

You read that right! Let me introduce you to the most random, nonsensical swap AU,Despite the title, the Robins are in it, but they aren't the main focus.

.....Well, I guess Damian is a pretty big part of it, BUT here he was never a Robin, so I stand by my point.

Shadow Damian and Hopeflare Jon, partners in "crime" since they were Veil and Superboy, are on a mission to take down the last CADMUS base that’s left. Surprisingly, it actually is the only existing one (sorry, Match fans—he's not going to show up for a loooooong while).

They arrive to find a bloody mess and a broken environment. There’s no heartbeat, no sound of breathing, nothing any living person would make...except the sound of dripping blood.

Checking all the rooms, Damian finds the one where all the bodies seemed to have been escaping from, and inside, he finds... a mini version of his best friend???except he has curly hair styled in an undercut,his skin is tan and he's wearing a bloody hospital gown.

Thus comes Subject 13, aka Project Cm.Kh/S>sb(a metaphor for a CADMUS-made Kryptonian hybrid of Superman’s son beta), a clone of well ,Superman’s son made with the DNA of Hopeflare, Lex Luthor (who has a bit of techno-meta DNA from his mother), and an unknown human donor (Lois Lane), whose aging process has been stopped by an explosion. He’s stuck in the body of an 11-year-old, a skinny and fragile little boy with knowledge many historians could never dream of. And as a bonus, he comes with a stack of new, unknown powers—so fun!

Short story long, he gets out very quickly with no trouble,as if he wasnt fighting two jl leveled heros and uses the weird pink telekinesis like power (ttk) to make the building collapse. Oh, and also, he hates Jon and somehow knows Shadow's secret identity by just looking at him-not even his face ,that's masked, so it would still be weird, but not as much—but at his chest, more specifically the dark little “s” crossed by an “h” (which is Shadow's symbol).

The mini Jon, as they decided to call him, vanishes from existence for almost six months, making Damian almost convince his partner to stop looking because he’s ruining himself.

In this time, Kon—still choosing a last name—is having the nicest time of his life in the house of Tim Drake-Wayne (age 11) and two of his friends: Stephanie Brown (age 17) and Bernard Dowd (age 10).

Stephanie was kicked out for her addiction by her hero father. Still struggling with it, she was in a situationship with a villain whose name is unknown, but she has moved on from that, Currently, she is two months pregnant, and after a long talk with Tim (who's shockingly smart for a kid), she decided to keep the baby because, screw it, she /Tim/ has the money and enough time to give them a good life. She moved in with Tim because his parents wouldn’t notice anyway, considering they let an 11-year-old have an apartment and live alone. (Jack and Janet are neglectful, but they do love Tim and aren’t fanon.)

Bernard, who was found by Stephanie beaten to a bloody pulp and about to be sacrificed to some vultures, was practically forced to come live with them after Stephanie had one conversation with his parents and her 'soon-to-be-mom''fuck you bitch'' instincts kicked in.

They decided on the name Kon purely because Tim found footage of OG Superman calling that his cousin, Supergirl. That, and since it was the only Kryptonian word that sounded somewhat decent that was found in media, they went with it.

Tim is the protégé of Batman, the second Veil, and rarely goes out on missions since the big bat thinks he’s too young (as if Damian wasn’t 7 when he became Veil),But he still does, sometimes Catwoman and her own kitten, stray, join him

Stephanie is Lilac Arrow (currently looking for a new name, feeling like it’s too close to her father's, and she doesn’t admit it to him—not anymore) and is an ex-Speedy, an active vigilante since she plans to take a longer break of six months until the baby is at least two.

So Kon is finding himself with his friends, learning how to be a person with rights and a life to live.

The whole fic is just consumed by these three being besties as they get older, maybe with a sprinkle of TimBert childhood sweethearts, nonbinary Kon, Stephanie getting to raise her son, and Jon going batshitt about finding his little something that’s for sure related to him while Damian is just done.

Flaline is also there as Damian's emotional support, promising to kick Jon’s ass to take care of himself when he can’t. i prob make more of this au with other characters or of this exact scenario but idk,tell me what you think

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

💋ྀིྀི 𝐒𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

Synopsis: Split Rivers Sweetheart, a sweet little Junior who’s the lead singer of the schools show choir. The only issue is a certain head cheerleader has made it her life’s mission to disband your club with her family’s money. Unfortunately for her, you seem to have more support than you realize, maybe even from the golden boy himself. Wally Clark.

Notes: Modern AU! All characters are alive! Mentions of Alcohol, Drugs, partying! Reader and all characters are around 17-18 ish! Most of my inspo for this was from Glee since I’m rewatching the show. 80’s References & so on.

Masterlist // Chapter Two

Split River had undoubtedly been the school of champions. At least, that’s what the students like to think. Trophy’s line the halls like decor, filling the football team with pride as they make their way down the hall, basking in their fresh victory. Nowadays, it was difficult to be considered good. At best, most schools hated their own teams. Split River was different though. When you go to Split River, it’s always competitive. It’s a ‘eat-or-be-eaten’ kind of life. One that really prepares you for the real world, in one way or another.

“I can’t believe we won sectionals.” You hear from your left. Dawn is smiling happily as she taps her fingers on the locker next to yours. “Now all we have left is regionals and then it’s off to nationals.”

“Don’t get so ahead of yourself.” You hear from your right. Maddie says , pessimistic as always. You giggle a bit to yourself, grabbing the proper books before shutting your locker.

“Why not?” You ask with a smile. Dawn grins even wider next to you as the three of you begin to walk down the hall. “I mean last year we lost regionals yeah, but that’s what we have this year for. We need to be confident this time.” You say to Maddie more than anyone.

“If we lose again we’ll be the laughing stock. Again.” She responded back, sporting a deadpanned look. “Regardless, we had to come up with new songs on the spot for sectionals. I mean come on. How did the other team have the exact same songs as us?” Maddie questioned, Dawn nodding along. It was odd, you couldn’t lie. If anything, it made you wonder if it really was coincidence or a true set up. But who would have set something like that up?

“Maybe you’re right.” You respond, stopping in front of yours class. “But we can still try to be optimistic. We don’t have much else anyway.” Dawn nods in agreement, staring up at the ceiling. Before either of the two can respond, the bell rings.

“I’ll see you for lunch.” Maddie says, walking away with Dawn to class.

Chemistry is nothing short of boring and tormenting. You’d probably explode something if it weren’t for Janet. She really is a savior of some kind, carrying you through the class as if her life depended on it. “You can’t just stare off into space forever you know.” She said, adjusting her goggles so she could see clearer.

“Yeah but this is so boring.” You respond back. You lean on your hand, eyes scanning the room. It’s a bit dull, everyone too engrossed with their own projects to pay attention to anything else but the crystals burning in front of them, like Janet.

“It’s not boring, you just don’t understand.” She replied with a huff. She was focused, holding the beaker with the metal tongs so still you would think she’d be too afraid to move.

“How’s everything going over here ladies?” Mr. Martin asks with a smile. You sit up promptly, hands in your lap as you smile up at him, almost on cue with Janet. “Everything’s going well Mr.Martin.” Janet replies for you both, save you the embarrassment of him questioning you on the experiment.

Mr. Martin continues to move down the aisles, checking in on everyone’s progress, and you exchange an exasperated look with Janet. You’re both barely holding on at this point. “I don’t know how much longer I can pretend to care about this,” you mutter under your breath, trying to make her laugh.

Janet lets out a quiet chuckle, looking back at the lab bench. “I get it. But hey, at least we’ll survive. We’re practically experts at this by now, especially with all the things you burn.”

You both glance toward the clock on the wall. The seconds are ticking down, and with a soft groan, you gather your things. The bell rings shortly after, and a sense of freedom floods over you as students begin to file out of the classroom.

“Thank God. Lunch finally,” you say to Janet, grabbing your bag and slipping your books into it as quickly as possible.

“I swear, you’re the only person I know who can’t get through a single period without daydreaming,” Janet teases, slipping on her own bag.

“Hey, I survive one class at a time,” you reply, a grin tugging at your lips.

The two of you head toward the door, and the hallway greets you with a wave of sound—students chatting, lockers slamming shut, and the general buzz of the school day continuing as usual. You’re already thinking about lunch. Maybe some fries, or if you’re lucky, you’ll manage to get an actual table with Dawn and Maddie and not have to hide somewhere to eat in peace.

As you step into the crowded hallway, you wave goodbye to Janet, who heads toward her next class, before heading toward the cafeteria. You’re almost there when you spot Dawn and Maddie, already deep in conversation near the entrance. You feel relieved when you see they’ve secured a proper table.

“Lunch is saved,” you mutter under your breath, a slight smile crossing your face as you walk toward them, ready to put the stress of the morning behind you. That was, until you felt it. That stare. As you wait on the lunch line to get your food, you begin to look around, feeling someone’s eyes on you. That’s when you finally pin point it.

Claire Zolinski. You sigh as you turn back around, stepping forward in line. You had never spoken to Claire before. But as far as you knew, she hated show choir, and hated you even more for what you’d done freshman year. But, the past was the past. Nothing you could do about it now right? Besides, you were surprised for all the ‘hatred�� she’d had towards you that the club still managed to survive. Maybe that was just something far out of her reach. As the line inches forward, you feel the weight of the show choir’s struggles pressing down on you. If only there were more people—if only the team wasn’t so small. You run a hand through your hair, the frustration building with each passing second.

“God, we need more bodies to make this work,” you mutter quietly to yourself.

It’s a thought that has crossed your mind too many times in the past week. With the upcoming competition looming, the pressure’s on. You glance around the cafeteria line, seeing full tables of students laughing and talking. They don’t know the kind of stress that comes with trying to make something great out of so little.

“If we had more people, we’d actually stand a chance at winning. But with the few of us left…” You sigh, the thought trailing off as you grab your food.

With a shake of your head, you move forward, mentally pushing the worries aside. There’s no point in dwelling on what you can’t control right now.

The noise of the cafeteria welcomes you, and you scan the room for your group. The clatter of trays and chatter fills the air, but it’s easy to spot your friends already gathered at their usual spot.

You head over to the table, your mind still buzzing with thoughts of the choir. As you walk closer, you see Yuri, Charley, Rhonda, and, of course, Simon and Nicole. The conversation at the table is already in full swing, but as you sit down next to Dawn and Maddie, their smiles are a welcome distraction from the weight of the morning.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Maddie asks, looking up from her phone with a raised eyebrow.

“Same old,” you reply, forcing a smile. “Just trying to keep it together, you know?”

Yuri leans over with a teasing grin. “What’s the matter? Running away from the competition already?”

You snort, shaking your head. “No, just… feels like we’re always one person short, you know?”

Charley, who’s been quietly sipping his drink, nods sympathetically. “I get it. But you’ll pull through. You always do.”

The others nod, and for a moment, you feel the comfort of having people who get it. Even if the choir’s facing its toughest challenge yet, you’ve got your friends, and that has to count for something.

The rest of lunch passes in a blur, the noise of the cafeteria slowly fading as the bell rings, signaling the end of your brief escape. You gather your things and head to the gym, your mind still on the show choir, but also on the upcoming challenges you know junior year will bring. Every day feels like it counts just a little more, and today is no exception.

The gym is bustling with the usual noise as students get ready for class. You and Maddie find a spot on the mat to do sit-ups, the hardwood floor creaking beneath you as you settle down. She groans slightly as she lays back, clearly not excited about the exercise. You glance over at her and let out a chuckle.

“Come on, Maddie, you’ve got this,” you tease, positioning yourself next to her.

“I swear, they never make this class any easier,” she mutters, pushing herself up for another sit-up. “We could be doing literally anything else right now.”

You laugh, pushing your own abs to do the next set of sit-ups. “Well, we need to stay in shape for the performances, don’t we?”

Maddie sighs dramatically, but she doesn’t stop. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Gotta keep my core strong to hold those notes.”

As you continue, your thoughts drift back to the weight of your junior year. Time’s ticking, and the pressure’s already starting to feel heavy. “You know,” you start, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead, “I really want to make this year count. I feel like it’s slipping by faster than I expected.”

“Tell me about it,” Maddie responds between breaths. “This year’s going by too fast. I’m already feeling the pressure.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you push yourself to do a few more sit-ups. The rhythm of the exercise gives you time to think. It’s hard not to feel the urgency of the year. College is just around the corner, and your future feels like it’s closing in. You turn to Maddie, who’s now on her last set of sit-ups. “What about you? Have you thought about college yet?”

Maddie doesn’t hesitate, pausing mid-sit-up to wipe her face with a towel. “Yeah. I’ve been saving up for it. Every extra dollar I get, I throw into the account. My dad left me some money when he passed, so I’m trying to use that for school too. But it’s tough, you know?”

You nod, surprised at how open she’s being. “That’s really impressive, Maddie. I’m still not sure what I want to do, but I know I have to figure it out soon.”

She gives you a knowing look. “I get it. I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do yet, but I’m planning to go somewhere close to home. Maybe study something with business or accounting. Something that’ll help me get a job right away, you know?”

You smile softly, feeling a mixture of admiration and unease. “I’m excited for it… but also really nervous. I think about college all the time, but it feels so far away and yet right around the corner. I’m not ready to talk about it yet, though.”

Maddie raises an eyebrow. “I get it. It’s a lot to think about. And the pressure of everything else doesn’t make it easier. But you’ll figure it out. We always do.”

You nod, trying to push away the nervous feeling in your stomach. Maddie’s optimism helps, but you can’t ignore the reality of it all. Junior year’s the year you need to lay the groundwork. But what if it’s too much? What if you can’t keep it all together?

You settle into a steady pace with Maddie, your body working hard but the conversation flowing easily. But the noise around you never really fades—Xavier and Nicole are off to the side, walking around the gym, their voices raised slightly as they chat, and it’s clear that they’re standing way too close for Maddie’s liking. Her eyes narrow as they exchange some private joke, her expression twisting with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

You catch Maddie’s glance, and she doesn’t even need to say anything. Her eye roll says it all. “God, they’re so…much,” she mutters under her breath, pushing herself up for another sit-up with a huff.

“What, Xavier and Nicole?” you ask, trying to keep your focus on the sit-ups but equally distracted by their proximity.

“Yeah,” she sighs, glancing at them again. “They act like they’re the only ones in this gym. Whatever. I don’t even care anymore.”

You can tell that she does care—her posture shifts, a little tension in her shoulders as she watches them. But instead of saying more, she focuses on finishing the set. You follow suit, trying to keep your mind focused on the exercise, but it’s hard when the drama in the room is practically palpable.

Meanwhile, a few of the football players are in the far corner, clearly trying to outdo each other. They’re lifting weights, grunting loudly as if they’re the strongest people on Earth. You can’t help but chuckle at how they’re all overcompensating, trying too hard to look impressive in front of each other. It’s so obvious that Maddie rolls her eyes again, muttering under her breath, “It’s just gym class. Calm down, guys.”

You can’t stop laughing at Maddie’s bluntness. “I don’t know, Maddie. Maybe they’re just trying to get that extra rep in for the big game.”

She snorts. “Yeah, sure, for the game that’s months away.” She pushes herself up again, clearly done with the theatrics of it all. “They’re just showing off to make sure they look like the biggest, baddest guys in the room.”

You laugh quietly to yourself, enjoying Maddie’s dry humor, even if it’s laced with some genuine frustration. You notice a couple of football players glancing over at her, probably catching the eye roll, and they straighten up a little, trying to look even more impressive. It’s laughable, but you keep it to yourself, deciding to keep the mood light.

“You’re the only one who can put those guys in their place without even saying a word,” you tease, smiling at her.

Maddie half-smiles, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not trying to fight the whole football team today. Just trying to get through gym class.” She sets her focus back on her sit-ups, looking more determined than before.

You both keep going, your breaths becoming more labored as you near the end of your set. The noise around you fades again, but every now and then, you catch snippets of Xavier and Nicole’s conversation. He’s leaning in a little too close, his voice low and smooth. Nicole laughs softly at something he says, and Maddie grits her teeth, her frustration mounting as she watches them.

“Okay, no more glancing over there,” she mutters to herself, but it’s clear that the tension is building, like the weight in the air is making it hard for her to focus. “I’m just gonna finish these sit-ups and not think about anything else,” she grumbles, giving a final push for a set of ten.

You both collapse onto your backs at the same time, exhausted but satisfied. For a moment, you just lie there, the sound of gym class washing over you, the voices of students mingling with the occasional loud slap of a basketball on the court. The space feels bigger when you’re able to zone out from the distractions.

When you sit up again, Maddie stretches her arms over her head, the tension from her shoulders slowly fading. You smile at her, pushing yourself into a seated position too.

“Hey, if you want, we can go grab smoothies after this,” you suggest casually, trying to shift the mood. “We deserve it.”

Maddie shoots you a side-eye. “Only if you’re buying. I’m definitely not spending my last few dollars on a smoothie.”

You laugh, leaning forward to grab your water bottle. ���Deal. You’ve earned it.”

As the gym class continues around you, you take in the familiar sights—the football players still trying way too hard to impress each other, Xavier and Nicole now walking across the gym, their closeness practically irritating Maddie from where she sits. The hum of the gym class is like background noise to you as you turn back to Maddie, feeling a little more settled now that the momentary tension from earlier has passed.

It’s then that you let your mind wander back to the topic of college. It’s so close, and you can feel the weight of the decision already pressing on your chest, but for now, you push those thoughts aside, deciding to take it one step at a time. There’s enough to think about with junior year already. College can wait—for now.

Claire Zolinski, stands in the hallway, lowers her voice to a near whisper as she talks to a couple of her fellow cheerleaders. They’re gathered near the lockers, their backs turned to the rest of the students passing by, so they can have their conversation in peace.

Claire’s posture is cool and collected, but there’s a glimmer of something sharp in her eyes. She leans against the lockers, arms crossed, a sly smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she talks.

“You know,” she begins, her voice low but confident, “I gave the other team the setlist. The songs for sectionals. You should’ve seen the look on their faces when they realized they were doing the exact same set as those idiots.”

The cheerleaders she’s speaking with, Jenna and Katie, exchange amused glances. Jenna raises an eyebrow, her blonde ponytail swishing as she turns to Claire.

“You really did that?” Jenna asks, her tone equal parts impressed and curious. “Did you think that would mess them up?”

“Oh, definitely,” Claire says, a smug laugh escaping her lips. “I knew it would throw them off, especially with how cocky they’ve been lately. The show choir’s been getting a little too confident, don’t you think? And if they’re anything like their leader”—Claire’s lips twist as she says it—“they’ll start scrambling to figure out what went wrong. They don’t have the organization to recover from something like that.”

Katie, the more skeptical of the two, crosses her arms and looks at Claire with a thoughtful expression. “Is that really enough, though? I mean, you’ve been making things pretty hard for them, but they still have a club. What if they pull together?”

Claire shrugs nonchalantly, her eyes glinting with a kind of cold certainty. “They don’t have enough people to pull it off. They barely have enough to even compete. The only reason they’ve made it this far is because of sheer luck. I’m not worried about it. Show choir’s a joke, and I don’t need to waste any more time with them.”

Jenna and Katie exchange uncertain glances, but Claire’s demeanor is so calm and assured that it’s hard to argue with her. Claire shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her voice turning dismissive.

“I’m not planning anything else. There’s nothing else to be done. They’ve got no support, and they won’t make it much further with half the members they need. Besides, I’ve already done more than enough to shut them down. There’s nothing else they can do to recover.”

The other two cheerleaders seem satisfied with this explanation, nodding in agreement. But as they begin to walk away, Claire lingers, staring down the hall where the show choir students walk by, her gaze hard and calculating.

“You know,” she mutters under her breath, “maybe I’ll be a little more proactive next time.”

[myfandomrealitea]

Yeah I have autism/ADHD/various other things and I used to be a pretty outgoing (if a bit shy) child and then I started public school in 4th grade and all I learned was:

Keep your mouth shut. Do not speak unless spoken to.

If you absolutely must speak to someone, rehearse it in your head for five minutes to make sure that it's normal and won't get you weird looks.

You are different. You are a freak. You are the weird child. You are barely human. Your friends will see you as the baby/pet project of the group. You have to be okay with that. That's all you're going to get.

If you want to have time to eat in the morning, you need to sleep in your jeans, bra, and other school clothes, so that you don't have to waste time getting dressed.

If you show obvious signs of severe disability (in my case, severe dyscalculia) no one will care or notice.

Some hobbies are for girls and some hobbies are for boys. If you talk about "boy hobbies" around other girls they think you're a freak. Shut up.

Do not trust your friends. Do not tell them what boys you have a crush on because they'll immediately tell them. Thankfully I was smart enough not to tell them about the girl I had a crush on because I knew they would probably out me to the whole school.

Exercise is bad and painful. Running is awful. If you ask the teacher if you can stop they will not let you. Even if you get really dizzy and your throat is burning. Even if you have to throw up. They will not care.

You will be put in lunch detention for forgetting 1 book. You can see your locker from where you're sitting. It does not matter.

I would have loved to be taught how to pay taxes and bills and a mortgage, how to use a credit card, how to get a job, how to stay on top of household chores, etc.

But no, all of that is useless and silly! It's far more important to teach kids how to, uh, *checks notes* run the pacer test until they have to vomit.

I only made it to 7th grade before I was begging my parents to homeschool me again because I was waking up every morning and immediately having a meltdown from sheer overwhelming stress.

Which is funny, because you know what stress causes? Memory issues! Stress makes it hard to remember things, like, for example, every fucking thing that you're taught in school!

So I was basically put through hell to be "educated" only to be unable to remember anything that I was taught. So. lmao.

The simple fact is that the educational system is simply meant to reinforce conformity. And that so, so many educational facilities are woefully unequipped and ill-suited for dealing with students who simply cannot keep up with or fit in with the reinforced norm.

Modern education is a joke. Mathematics should be used with real life scenarios applied, not excess fruit purchases and how many hours it takes Janet to walk backwards from France.

We're expected to put children into a facility for 6+ hours per day, 5 days per week, which honestly does not leave them with much time or mental capacity to learn anything outside of those hours. Especially when schools insist on drowning them in homework. When am I supposed to teach my child survival skills? On weekends, their only actual time to have fun and relax and experience life and rest?

[haleswallows]

DRAGON UPDATE

Fandom: DC x DP Pairing: Dead Tired (Danny/Tim) Rating: Teen High Fantasy AU, Arranged Marriage, and Dragons (oh my!) Chapter 11

Teaser:

“Hm.” Švadlena backed away to stand at a more respectable distance. “Bring him to me at the master’s shop. We’ll measure him for future garments. The other clothing fit properly?”

The clothing, found on the bed that very first night. Tim quickly deducted the gifts from Phantom must be of her making.

Phantom did not answer for him. Which was surprising to Tim. He had been prepared for the man to speak for him, as he had seen husbands speak for their spouses. Jack had always spoken for Janet, though she often resented it.

The surprise bled into his tone. “Thank you, they’re wonderfully made and fit quite well. You did admirably to guess my sizing.” He paused, worried he seemed disingenuous. “The nightgown. It’s beautiful.”

Again, Tim caught Phantom looking away from him. As he seemed to do frequently. To hide his expression for a reason Tim could not discern. Tim did his best to keep the confusion from coloring his smile. When he turned back, Švadlena looked smug.

“Phantom has good taste,” was all she said. Phantom chuffed. It had the hint of a growl, belying a warning. “He was dreadfully worried. At first, he had an entire wardrobe selected for you and talked himself out of most of it. I’m glad he kept the nightgown though. It has been warm enough? No doubt that the nights here are much colder than you are accustomed to.”

Phantom had… what? Tim resisted any outward expression of his rapidly growing confusion.

“Švadlena,” Phantom warned in a low voice. Pursing her lips, she waved him off.

“Ah, yes. It is quite warm.” It was a poor attempt to diffuse Phantom’s rising temper. But Tim tried it anyway.

Švadlena nodded, wholly ignoring Phantom’s frown and warning. “Good, I shall make more. With thicker fabrics and warming charms woven in so you may have some for when Winter comes. She is mean here, will take your toes. Make Phantom bring you to the master’s shop. Let him pick things and pay for them.”

“Pauls.” Huh? The word Phantom spoke made no sense, but Švadlena finally turned to him. “Stop meddling.”

“I’m helping,” she insisted, smiling slyly. “Don’t you want to buy your pretty husband the pretty clothes I make?” Punctuated it with a hand on her hip and a challenging slant of her eyebrows, even though Phantom had well over a head of height on her.

Clicking his tongue, Phantom narrowed his eyes. Švadlena quirked an eyebrow, obviously not impressed.

She burst out laughing, a hand held to her chest. The frown slipped from Phantom’s face and morphed into an indulgent smile.

“Sorry, Your Highness,” she chuckled after she gathered herself. Swiped a hand at her eye to dash away the tear there. “Please, call me Paulina. You may use it in the shop if there are no other customers. Phantom and I are old friends. In fact, he used to have the cutest –.”

“Stop. Right there.” Phantom spoke loudly to cut her off. “Absolutely not. I’ll send you back to Amity.”

Performatively, Paulina gasped. “You would never!”

Childhood friends. Both from Amity. Tim saw Švadlena in a new light, the familiarity with Phantom and casual means of speaking making sparkling sense.

“You have known Phantom a long time?” Tim almost regretted it as soon as he said it, what with Švadlena and Phantom both turning to him. He did not enjoy their combined attention.

Phantom cringed, but it was Paulina who spoke. “Oh! Yes, we grew up in Amity together. Attended the same school, though you can hardly say Phantom was a student. More likely to find him frolicking in nature or helping his parents. He was never house broken, you know, even more wild now.”

It looked like Phantom wished to refute the ‘wild’ comment, but refocused himself.

“My parents,” and that same sadness Tim saw so often on Jasmine, “were inventors. They studied the sciences.”

“Crazy scientists,” Paulina added.

Phantom chuffed again, though amused. “Brilliant scientists. Maybe a little crazy. Eccentric for sure. I often helped them with their work.”

The topic seemed to be boring Paulina. She returned to her stacks of fabrics, though returned with a brilliantly purple garment. Half finished, she set herself on a stool to resume work on it. Vaguely, she said “That's right, I remember you tagged along when they were summoned by King Allen.”

Phantom nodded. “Yes.” At Tim's confusion - which he was definitely failing at hiding by now - he explained. “King Allen values the sciences. My parents were summoned for an audience with the king to present a solution to a mechanical issue. I don't entirely remember the details of the issue, it was before the cataclysm –.”

“May Plasmius rot,” Paulina muttered, in a tone dripping with vitriol. Phantom ignored her, continuing as if she hadn't spoken.

“Jazz and I tagged along. I remember being so scared to meet the king, but thought Allen was very kind. And he appreciates science, I respect that. It was part of why I reached out to the League to officially establish peace.”

It made for a new image of Phantom. A child seen most often with his parents, or playing. Jasmine’s study and focus a remnant of their parents. Dead, unknown cause.

Though it was Paulina's aside - may Plasmius rot - that held heavy implications. Was the Chief of Amity responsible, culpable in some way, for the cataclysm?

Tim sucked on his teeth, mulling it over. What was the cataclysm? What had happened in Amity? Paulina and Phantom spoke as if they grew up in Centralia, not the Infinite Lands. Yet maps now placed Amity well within the southern regions of the Lands.

“They'd be proud. All of them.” Paulina said it mostly to the dress in her lap. Phantom's face was tight with grief. As if sensing it, Paulina looked at him. She wore pity plainly. Then swiftly turned her gaze to Tim, raising her eyebrows. “See, he didn't deny being wild.”

The heavy mood cleared. Phantom sighed.

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On

cw: gender identity issues, overall identity issues

Tim brush his hand idly through his damp hair as he stepped out of the shower.

It had gotten long.

He hadn’t planned to grow it out, it just sort of happened. He’d gotten it cut last summer before he’s started his sophomore year of college. The start of the semester had bled into midterms. Midterms had proceeded papers and projects. Projects had become final presentations and exams. Classes ended abruptly into a too short winter break of Tim visiting Cass and her team then dragging her home for Christmas. The new year had been filled with Titans and teammates and fireworks.

He might cut it when it started getting too muggy. Spring had barely broken into the city. It was warm enough not to need heavy coat but cool enough TIm could still wear his favorite leather jacket he’d stolen from Jason around. It was a good time of the year.

It really had gotten long.

As long as the wig Tim wore when he became Caroline. He tugged at the ends of the hair where, if he tilted his head down to look up under his lashes, the black strands just brushed the top of his shoulders.

Tim hadn’t been Caroline Hill in a long time now.

Or Alvin Draper.

Or Timothy Drake— CEO to be.

He hadn’t been anyone, really. Instead he had been struggling to find out who Tim Wayne was beyond the expectations of dead parents, missions hidden behind masks, and under the weight everyone else’s needs. He still really didn’t know.

It felt more like a game of finding out what he wasn’t than falling into what he was. Or what he liked to be.

He could be a ruthless businessman, but that was Timothy Drake, wasn’t it? That was his father’s Jack’s legacy and Janet’s cold, confident smile. He didn’t like being that.

He didn’t like being them.

He could be whatever the mission needed. He could do recon, hacking, infiltration, fighting— Replacement, like Jason said. The word didn’t have the same sting that it used to. Replacement. It was almost a word of respect now. It had taken a lot of talking (and a lot of alcohol) for Jason and Tim to get somewhere good, but they both got it now. Red Robin was whoever the team needed.

He was tired of having to fill in cracks.

He beyond tired of just existing for everyone else’s needs.

The weight of that had nearly broken him.

Had broken him.

Tim watched the black strands of hair slip over the spider web of scars on his left hand.

Bruce had assured him that there would always be a place with the Bats if Tim still wanted it. Tim refused just to fill in the space that was left for him anymore. It took a lot of sessions with his Justice League approved therapist for Tim to even get to that line in the sand, but he understood how important it was now.

He had to stop being the Replacement.

The problem is, he didn’t always think he was Tim Wayne, even the pieces that he was slowly learning.

Tim dug around under his sink, coming up with the purple case he’d stolen from Steph to keep Caroline’s things in. The robin red lipstick was on the top. Slowly he uncapped it and smeared it almost recklessly across his lips.

Tim no longer stared back out from the mirror.

Maybe Caroline deserved a night out.

It had been a long time, after all.

---

AN: Look, look, I'm not officially starting this but I had the idea for this scene in my head and had to get it down. (Now I should sleep cause it's past 2 in the morning.)

Anyways, I love me a gnc Tim.

[againaweasel]

For the harry potter thing: also to be fair to some adult actors, especially ones who are starting out and need a big role to get the roles they want in the future. Sometimes actors and people have to take jobs, even if the jobs are connected to shitty things. If they don't take those jobs they get blacklisted from acting roles/acting community and people don't want to work with them. It's how people abuse power in the acting business. Same thing for smaller roles and jobs in the movie and media business. If you want to hate on anyone hate on the people who want money, the business people who are just yesing jk rowlling. Heck the best thing is not to watch this thing, to boycott it and not have it make a lot of money. People who care about money and business only care about one thing, where they can get money from. If this does not bring a lot of money they will stop the project dead in the water and jk rowlling will look like an idiot.

At some point, especially for bit parts and what not, this will be true. And yeah I agree, say, ministry worker #76 doesn’t deserve hate or any of that stuff for taking the work where it comes. But nearly all the adult actors we currently know about are not in this situation.

In fact, It’s likely the majority of the adult actors will not be in this situation throughout the series - look at the OG films, how many of the actors playing named adult characters were entirely unknown, just starting out? (Not unknown to you, but actually unknown) I can think of a very small number. Even a character like Mrs Granger who had no lines was played by at-the-time Olivier- nominated Michelle Fairley. The number of actual unknown not-established actors for the show will be likewise as small. I agree that the there are other things to consider for those actors, but those actors won’t be the norm.

Pretty much all (bar 1) of the actors currently cast are established actors — most of them are VERY established actors. Paapa Essiedu has been nominated for an Emmy, Janet Mcteer has been nominated for a Tony 3 separate times and an Olivier 6 times, John Lithgow has so many award nominations they have their own separate wikipedia page, Nick Frost is Nick Frost. Even Luke Thallon who is a new comer has theatre award nominations under his belt.

They all had the choice to take these parts and for most of the adults that will be true.

(But yes absolutely agree that kinda no matter what the best course of action is to boycott and not interact once it comes out. It is JK who’s actions have tarnished the project)

[mkpersephone]

I have a crazy theory about Ultron in the MCU.

Okay, hear me out.

We all know that in the MCU, Ultron is Tony’s creation. But in the comics? He was made by Hank Pym.

What if that’s true in the MCU too?

Think about it. Back in his younger days, when Hank was still Ant-Man, he was trying to compete with Stark. Maybe that’s what pushed him to start something no one had ever succeeded at before: creating a self-aware AI.

He builds Ultron. Brings it online. But something goes wrong. Ultron starts showing dangerous, anti-human behavior. A strange anger. Uncontrolled. Almost… familiar. Like the suppressed rage Hank himself struggled with for years. Hank panics and tries to shut it down… but fails.

Ultron feels betrayed. Abandoned by his "father". He turns against humanity with a personal grudge. Hank and Janet team up to stop him—and after a long, brutal fight, they finally succeed.

But a powerful AI like Ultron never truly dies.

Remember in Ant-Man when Hank said he left S.H.I.E.L.D. because they were stealing his research? What if Project Ultron was one of those?

Years pass. Ultron is locked away, buried deep in old S.H.I.E.L.D. servers—forgotten by most, but not truly gone.

And then comes the leak.

In Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Natasha Romanoff—Black Widow—dumps all of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s classified files onto the internet. Every locked folder. Every dark secret.

What if the dormant Ultron code was in there too? Buried in that massive data dump. Hiding in plain sight until Tony—or maybe even J.A.R.V.I.S.—found it.

Not knowing it wasn’t some half-baked idea...

But the ghost of a monster. Waiting.

As we saw in Avengers: Age of Ultron, Tony had the idea of Ultron but didn’t know how to make it real. What if he get that idea from there?

What if he found some of the early Ultron blueprints—confiscated by S.H.I.E.L.D. long ago—and unknowingly tried to revive something far more dangerous than he realized?

Oh, and let’s not forget: Ultron especially hates Tony Stark. Like, personally.

And who we know in the MCU that hates the Starks more than anyone else?

“Ultron can’t tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it.”

“Where do you think he gets that?”

[fmajorenthusiast]

what kinds of tv shows would the rhps cast like to watch? :3

OOOOOO I LOVE THISSSS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCHHHHH!!!! (Some of the examples I gave for their genres are modern so bear with me lol)

Frank: Frank likes to watch the kinds of shows that have about as much sex as a mainstream television show can have! The less plot they have, the better! He'll get suuuuper pissed at "fade to black" scenes and he'll honestly stop watching the show. He then goes on to bitch about it and it's hilarious to everybody except him!

Brad: Brad likes to watch shows that really intrigue him!! He likes crime thrillers a whole lot in particular! He has a slight preference to shows with one continuous narrative over episodic narrative, but it won't break the deal if the show is good enough!!! I've never seen an episode of Law and Order but I really do feel like he'd love it!

Janet: Janet loves shows sweet, heartfelt, comedic, and veer towards the more romantic side!!! She likes stories about families as well! She can't really handle too much sadness, but if it's in the right kind of narrative, she'll let it happen!!! I'm in the middle of watching Downton Abbey right now and I feel like she'd LOVE everything about that show!!! It legit gives me such Janet energy for some reason!

Riff Raff: Riff Raff likes comedic and charming not-quite-sitcom shows!!! (I really hope that makes sense lol) He honestly loves Doctor Who. It hits right in that sweet spot for him where there's excitement, adventure, and at the end of the day you know that almost everybody is going to make it out alive!!! He doesn't often like to admit to liking these kinds of shows, but they really speak to the softy that he is deep down! Also- he LOVES any show in which the evil monarchs and or rich people get dragged down- like, he'll absorb that narrative in a split second and project so hard- Arrested Development is another favorite of his, partially for that reason!

Magenta: Magenta likes fantasies with a somewhat darker story than her brother! She doesn't like them cynical or sad, she just likes them violent! It's kinda hard for her to find some really solid gothic TV, so she'll veer towards shows like the Last of Us!!! She loves that stuff!!

Columbia: Columbia LOVES sitcoms. She radiates energy of the Parks and Recreation theme songs!!! She loves a good sitcom with an upbeat vibe and a happy ending!!! The intros are always so short but she'll dance through them all!! She gets so attached and hooked onto the characters!! She'd love the Good Place and Parks and Rec the most, I think!!!

Eddie: Eddie likes it simple and violent and focused on being fun!!! His 100% favorite show of all time would definitely be Supernatural. That's like... the epitome of his taste right there. Episodic, thrilling, and not too complicated! He was like "dammit!!!" A few seasons in when a continuous narrative showed up XD. He also really values when a show remembers that it's part of the entertainment industry. He doesn't like it when things get overwhelmingly sad, and the thrill is what's most important to him!

Doctor Scott: Doctor Scott really likes gameshows! He kinda likes the guessing that goes on within himself too!!! He also loves mysteries for that reason!!! He likes to guess what's going to happen next!! He'll even do that for most shows!!! He'd fully guess the twist at the end of the first season of the Good Place!!! Columbia would be so impressed!!!

Rocky: Rocky loves kids shows!!!! He LOVES Tom and Jerry!! A show that Riff Raff also happened to watch himself on a rainy night and was therefore able to stop Rocky from watching Blue Cat Blues!!! (Holy shit how did they allow that episode to run? I was 8 or 9 years old when I first became an aunt and I watched that episode on that very same night. I remember it WAY more than meeting my nephew and I'll say that much gang-) but the rest of the show is truly fantastic!!! In stopping him from watching that episode, Riff wound up getting him hooked on Bill Nye the Science Guy- and he doesn't regret it but he does get a little bit crazy every time he just hears "BILL! BILL! BILL! BILL! BILL!" From the other room

The Criminologist: He is 100% a mystery show lover. He loves mysteries- he is a Sherlock fan and a fan of shows like it to his very core!!!!... also let's be real he watches the Twilight Zone and stuff like it chronically!!! He loves to voice himself like an old-timey narrator because he listened to that stuff and was like "that's me" and I love him for it!!!

[catchingbigfish]

writeblr re-introduction | catchingbigfish

hi! call me elle (they/them). i'm in my 30s, work adjacent to the legal field in my day job, and i'm studying for my MA in english! i post more about my life over at my main, @prettytothink-so, which is also the account i follow from!

i'm a david lynch obsessive, hence the url/pfp, but i love death bed: the bed that eats as much as i do blue velvet. my primary literary influences are shirley jackson, carmen maria machado, janet fitch, confessional poets, and more recently, a healthy dose of knausgaard.

i write prose & poetry with a heavy emphasis on the body, the darker sides of life, and relationships. my fiction is character-centric, driven by ensemble casts of weird and fucked up people, and characters tend to go through exquisite and grotesque things like body horror, warped and broken time, hauntings, posessions, and sex. my work is definitely 18+ and i try not to engage with minors.

i'd love to get to know other writers, esp if you write/read any of the following:

dysfunctional relationships (particularly with ensemble casts and found or of-origin families)

horror and gothic literature

body horror, nightmares, and dream logic

romance, including sex, and relationships, esp. in horror themes

i like to say i'm always open to ask + tag games, but i'm most likely to respond to an ask game than a tag! if you wanna know more about my wips, see below the cut for my primary projects or check out my wip masterlist:

click the titles for the wip intros!

conversion

status: drafted (80k words); w/ beta readers short synopsis: Rosalyn arrives to campus for her MFA in fashion-making and falls into a group of sick women artists bonded by a disputed diagnosis. She starts faking it to fit in, finds the friendships she'd always wanted, and ends up with a choice between the unthinkable and her new ride-or-die crew.

dark academia/litfic/cult novel. this project has had me in a chokehold for 18+ months and it's the most fun i've ever had writing something. stay tuned for my query journey, coming to you probably near the end of this year!

might've been, never was

status: drafted (55k words) short synopsis: Lily and her friends thought their thirties would be different. They find a way to adopt new bodies, but one of them takes it too far, and the rest have to decide whether to stop her or join in.

a satire in the same vein as conversion. currently vying with the next two WIPs for main focus while betas work through conversion. project playlist is 2 songs: teen idle and celebrity skin. the closest i'll ever come to autofiction because the idea to write "a love letter to being mentally ill in your 30s" came up when i was a teensy bit manic.

seed of the woman

status: drafted (27k words) short synopsis: A woman goes on a Christian yoga retreat hoping to return to some sense of her self. Instead, she's bitten by a snake and goes on a tour through the choices that led her here.

body horror/religious horror novella. nightmare/dream-logic story that's my latest attempt to write something explaining how rational and reasonable a choice it would be for a woman to choose satan over god.

on fire

status: drafting short synopsis: Elissa wakes up one day after being cheated on with the power to consume creative energy from men she seduces.

the novella i conceived on december 21 and outlined and zero drafted on december 24. very similar to SOTW in structure (based on the outline template i made for it, in fact) and similar in its feminine-rage-in-a-magical-realist-world themes; inspired by the baobhan sith figure, the MC is kind of a succubus/vampire/cannibal mix. set at the same university as conversion! i stole this title from a terrible novel i wrote at 19 btw. the emphasis is on "on", like "a treatise on", not being lit on fire. it is very pretentious.

heartbeat

status: outlining short synopsis: A coming-of-age saga about a nonbinary kid who realizes not every carries their heart outside of their body and struggles to figure out what to do with it.

kind of an epic saga in the style of middlesex where a nonbinary kid has to learn to deal with being different, grows into an adult with no coping skills, and all of the dysfunctional family dynamics you would anticipate with me writing it