i don't know what it is this

So like. 

“dirkjake is bad and unhealthy”

That’s sure a statement. It really bothers me deeply. The level to which its dismissive and coldhearted really just.

Dirk and Jake were two teenagers who were struggling with their emerging sexualities. They were two people who lived alone for the vast majority of their lives. Their entry into the game was their first significant interactions with people, for Jake in most of his life, for Dirk in his entire life.

And they were bad at it. Holy shit, what a novel concept. A massive, stressful part of your life happens, and you don’t handle it with calm. You’re in a game out to kill you with monsters and traps, and you don’t nail it at every turn. You fumble through your new life, overloaded with new situations you could never hope to prepare for, and it doesn’t go well.

“bad and unhealthy.”

What really… fucks with me. What gets me hard, is that I’ve been in Dirk Strider’s shoes. I have done things that I’ll never be fully forgiven for, some real and some made up by my brain, but like Dirk, I want to be better. I think at my core there is a toxicity that I might never be able to pull out from the roots, but I’m fucking trying.

And I know so many people who resonate hard with Jake’s character, who have walked his path and made his mistakes, who are honestly sometimes so fucking relieved to see themselves reflected with such fidelity.

When people take these complicated characters who made mistakes, and they just write off their futures like that, they say “these two people cannot be together because there was a time when it was bad,”

the little voice in the back of my head, the one that thinks I can’t be redeemed no matter how much I try, gets louder.

I need there to be hope for the people who make mistakes. I need there to be forgiveness in the world. I need there to be the understanding that, dude, the person you were when you were 13 is not who you are at 16 or at even fucking 18.

And maybe that forgiveness is not going to come from you in particular, but the fact you put out these broad stroke statements out to the people who will extend that hopefulness like they should be ashamed of themselves, that’s sick.

This entire culture of “this person did something I think is bad, so they get written off,” that’s damaging. Especially with characters like Dirk and Jake because, y’all, people relate to these characters. They have lived similar traumas and hurts. They have hurt people in similar ways. 

And they’re just… hopeless, right? They’re bad. They’re unhealthy, huh? And the book closes and that is the end. Nothing happens next.

That’s fucked up. And frankly, the people who do that, who the hell are you to arbitrate that? And in your life, when you fuck up in a big way, when you hurt people, do you also become damaged goods that can never be better?

What the hell does that say about us all?

You know who else is unhealthy and bad? Terezi. Karkat. Dave. Jane. Roxy. Vriska. Rose.

If you are going to say the past missteps in a relationship make it and the people involved irredeemable, then there are very few people not sullied by that broad stroke.

Please for the love of god, stop shaming people for a ship, especially to this particular hopeless, unsympathetic tune. Because man. Think about how much you’ve changed in the time between when you made a mistake and now. Think of every person who gave you that chance and who cared about you since then. Were they wrong?

I don’t think so.

anonymous asked:

hey, I know you usually don't take prompts but would you ever consider writing a supercorp fic where Lena confesses to Kara that she's a Luthor by blood? I just, I love your writing, but it's okay if you don't feel like doing it. thank you anyway :)

I love prompts! Always feel free to send them! This wrote itself. I have no idea where this came from?


Lena lies awake, years after knowing the truth, and feels it slithering inside of herself. Pounding with every thump of her heart, layering her vessels, starting in her marrow and flooding her heart and sinking into her tissues, the very fibres of her muscles.

That utter truth of her blood, her genetics, her DNA.

The Luthor part of herself.

It was something she’d clung to, as she’d gotten older. That maybe nurture wouldn’t beat nature and she wasn’t really a Luthor. That she could break that trend and step away from it all and show the name was just that: a name for her. But then her mother took that away from her and left Lena’s ears screaming with the truth: Lena was a Luthor through and through, nature and nurture, blood and mind. Born and bred.

She buried it, though. Buried that truth into the deepest part of herself and didn’t tell a soul. Not even Kara. The truth of it burned in her throat, a lump of shame so large Lena thought she’d drown in it. But still she didn’t offer it to her. The only thing she kept from Kara, ever. The second thing, but that first was one that was useless, was not for sharing. Was just for Lena. 

Kara Danvers, with the smile that lit up something in Lena’s chest, stole the air from the room, sent a flush through her cheeks and left her breathless. Kara, who stood by her through ever scathing article, every attempt to pull her down with the Luthor name and believed, believed, believed. Kara Danvers and her relentless belief made the entire year after Rhea bearable. More than bearable, she made it liveable. And Lena kept those two secrets smothered so far down she thought, some days, she didn’t even think of them.

Somedays, Lena felt that blood crawling through her system post a Cadmus attack, post her mother’s spouting of something xenophobic, post a manipulation attack, and all she could think was how to distance herself from the Luthor. Any decision she made she wondered what her mother would do, what Lex would do, and Lena would do the opposite. Jaw clenched and heart pumping that traitorous blood through her body and aching, utterly, with the need to prove herself.

And Kara, by her side, every time. The brush of her hand. The sure look in her eyes. Months and months after Rhea, after Mon-El, and Kara ended up closer and closer, and Lena would suck in a breath at how sheerly lucky she felt to have Kara Danvers so close. So close and always there, gaze heavy over lunch and hugs a bit too lingering. And still months on, Cadmus made a final play, Lena’s mother at the forefront, and Lena found the strength to help take them down with Kara standing fiercely in front of her, eyes blazing in a way that was almost alien, as she spewed her belief for Lena in the way that only Kara could. Captivating and pink cheeks, fists clenched and jaw tight.

Breathtaking.

Always breathtaking.

And they won.

And these days, after so many decisions that have taken her so far away from her mother’s footsteps, so far from even Lex, the brother she loves and grieves for continuously, Lena still has nights she lies in bed, listening to her own heartbeat, feeling it thud against her palm over her chest and wonders just how important blood can be, because from what she has seen, the answer is still always: very. Even after the world has finally stopped suspecting her, years on. Even after Lillian still rots in a cell. Even after that night on her balcony.

That night Kara stood on her balcony and blinked heavily at Lena, eyes welling with tears and Lena hadn’t been able to tear her eyes off of her as Kara’s feet lifted off the balcony, oh so slowly, her face without glasses and sorry Lena, I’m so sorry, falling from her lips over and over again. A whispered apology that trembled out and Lena just stared, eyes wide as Kara’s fingers shook, resting over a crest framed by undone buttons. There was moonlight on her skin and her hair seemed to shine like it always did, permanently soaked in sunlight in a way that made sense, then. And Lena still just stared as Kara, eyes wide and terrified, floated back to the ground and just stared back at her, apologies still falling into the air between them, filling it up. 

And instead of running away, Lena stepped forward, stepped into Kara’s space and threaded her hands in her hair and trailed her lips over Kara’s, tasting salt and sun and the truth. Because Lena understood locking a part of yourself away from people, to protect yourself or to protect them, reasons blurring together until you’re trapped in the lie of it all. But instead of that secret, Lena let that second one spill out, the one that had been the first.

“I love you.”

Words that trickled over Kara’s lips. That spread through them both, followed by another kiss, one of many, soft like silk, a desperation in their mouths, in the nip of their teeth. And Kara? A year after Rhea, there on the balcony with her shirt gaping truth and with a mended heart, said it back, her fingers needy as they gripped Lena closer and Lena almost fell apart under it all. Under the weight, the solidness, of those words, of truth, of the actions that seemed to have steamrolled them all over since she was saved in a helicopter by Supergirl and stunned by a personal assistant seeking truth in her office. All of it, since then, every single moment that left either of them elated or broken or stumbling, seemed to have pushed them here, to this moment they clung together and kissed with the weight of truth and trust over them. Of words neither could take back but neither had the urge to.

And maybe Lena kept some truth, something that was hers. And still lies with it now, years later, eyes glued to the ceiling and feeling her body vibrating with the truth of her own genetics. And Kara, still there beside her, throwing warmth as her legs are twisted in the sheets, her hair a mess around her head and over the pillow. And Lena lies there, fingers twisting that band around and around her finger and loves her, with everything she is, but burns with the thing she’s kept locked away. Because suddenly, it’s important. Suddenly, it means something.

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter what Lena has done leading up to now, because her blood is still gushing through her, through her skin, her stomach, every part of her and her eyes are welling and tears are spilling over and she’s a Luthor, in every damn way that counts, and Kara Danvers is so good and laying next to her and Lena’s going to suffocate with it.

“Hey.” The word is hoarse, rough with sleep, but soothing. Everything that Lena needs. “Hey, hey.”

And Kara’s arms are around her, are tugging her in as close as she can manage, which is never close enough the last few months with this thing between them. But her fingers brush Lena’s hair back off her face and graze against her cheeks, wiping tears away and her lips press firm and sure and warm against her forehead.

Lena grasps at one of Kara’s hands, tugs it down to sit with Lena’s over her swollen belly as she pulls back on the pillow to look at Kara, feeling the kick and roll of the baby that’s so close to coming. To being solid and real and out in the world, not wrapped in Lena where she can protect it every single moment and her throat is thick with the tears that are still falling as Kara’s eyes go wide, even with the concern that’s still washing her features. Wide like they always do, even though the baby’s been moving for months and months. Kara gets a gentle look of heart-shattering wonder every time, and it always makes a part of Lena still, calm, stutter to a stop to consider just how happy she is. It works now, as Lena sucks in a shuddering breath at the sight of it and tries to calm her racing heart, that secret like fire in her throat like it hasn’t been for years as Kara presses her hand firmer against her belly, the baby responding and Kara’s lips quirking up at the feeling even as she swallows and looks at Lena imploringly. “Lena. What’s wrong?”

And Lena tells her. It’s like breaking down a wall with her hands alone. One erected for years and years, one she’s almost forgotten is there, it’s such a part of herself. She pulls it down and lets out that final secret. The truth. The Luthor side of what she’s fought against her entire life, and railed against even more since finding out the truth Lillian had given her with all but a sneer. Railed against with everything she is.

Because now she’s passing it on to another being. A living, loved, beautiful being beneath her and Kara’s joined hand, kicking and kicking against them even as the words stutter out of Lena’s lips. She closes her eyes, unable to watch Kara’s face. Unable to take her in as Lena lets out this betrayal, as Lena tells her that a Super, of all things, is going to be parent to a Luthor. 

The words are barely out before the bed is shifting and Lena’s chest heaves a sob, sure Kara is leaving. Fleeing. Lit up with anger, eyes glowing red hot with the pain of it.

But then hair is brushing Lena’s cheeks, soft and sweet-smelling. Kara always smells like the sky, like the outside. Like freedom and open space and safety. And her lips are pressed to Lena’s forehead again, to her cheeks, over her wet eyelids, trailing over her jaw, brushing her mouth, against her neck, pausing over the fluttering of her pulse, resting over her heart. And Lena is sobbing with it all, relief in her breath and everything, every part of herself that just shattered apart after being poised to do so for oh so long, is glued back together as Kara’s lips press to where their hands have just been, once, lingering, before she’s pushing back up and her hands are cupping Lena’s cheeks. Lena’s eyes open to a well of blue, the blue of space and stars and a women who shoulders the world and is Lena’s world. Kara kisses her again, once, lips soft over own, neither closing their eyes, the contact unwavering and bright and yearning.

“You’re Lena. And that’s all I need to know.” 

And between them, the baby kicks and turns and Lena pulls Kara back down.

“You don’t seem up to your usual level, Joker,” noted the vigilante, staring down at his nemesis, who laid sprawled on the ground. “Having some troubles?”

The clown in question propelled himself into a sitting position, using his elbows. He looked up at Gotham’s Knight, grin firmly in place.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Bats. I’m right as rain,” he said, with this annoying high-pitched voice he sometimes used. “Why are you asking anyway? Worried about me, maybe-” he finished, waggling his eyebrows as if the subject discussed was one of very different nature.

Choosing to focus on the actual conversation, instead of the Joker’s subtle damning insinuations, Bruce retorted, “Don’t lie to me.”

Unsurprisingly, the clown decided not to cooperate with him, with voice exaggeratedly outraged and disbelieving, exclaimed “Oh, but I would never! How can you even suggest that I, of all people, would do such a thing.”

The billionaire sighed, but what said sigh signified only he himself knew.

He wondered, if the Joker and he were playing different ‘games’, or if they just didn’t see its guidelines the same way.

He stayed silent, simply observing the man before him.


He missed John.


He could sometimes see him hidden beneath all that anger this facade claimed he didn’t possess.

Then the Joker laughed, and all Bruce could think about was how could he miss someone he had barely even known so much.

hey guys i’ve been really hesitant about making this post because part of it feels like oversharing, but my dad isn’t waking up and we don’t know why. i really don’t have all the details because he was on a business trip (all I know that he is in the hospital and still breathing) but if you’re religious and don’t mind sending out prayers for him that would be great. even if you aren’t religious, just some good vibes sent this way would be greatly appreciated. i’m sorry for putting this in the tag, but my dad is honestly like my world and this day has been the absolute worst so i’m just trying to rally up as much support as possible.

“Usually I wouldn’t say this, but can you please just use your magic?”

“You were the one who suggested this, darling.”

“Yes, well, I was wrong.” Alec looked down at his once clean black t-shirt and jeans which were now covered in flour and the occasional splatter of marinara. “Obviously. So, can you please just magic this mess away and steal a pizza, or however it is you magic in ready-made food?”

“Alexander, I’m offended you would even think I don’t pay for the food I get.” Magnus smirked at Alec as he continued to assemble the misshapen pizza.

“Magnus. Come on,” Alec said, closing the distance between himself and his boyfriend so that the sides of their bodies were pressed together and he could sneak an arm around Magnus’ waist to pull him even closer.

“We’re almost done, love. If I magicked up a pizza now all of this would have been for nothing.” Magnus sprinkled another layer of mozzarella on the misshapen dough with an understated flourish that made Alec smile.

“All right. We can finish making it. But if it turns out disgusting will you at least let me order a pizza instead?”

“If the pizza we lovingly made together turns out unpalatable, then yes, I will magic a pizza in.” Alec shook his head at Magnus’ put-upon tone, his smile becoming wider with affection.

“Thank you, Magnus. I love you,” Alec said, leaning in to press a kiss to Magnus’ temple.

“I love you too, Alexander. Although, if you really loved me you would eat the pizza we made together even if it does end up being disgusting.”

“I would do anything for you Magnus. You know that.” Magnus turned away from the pizza for a moment to look into Alec’s eyes, his own eyes bright with love and a hint of disbelief hiding in their depths, still surprised by the loving words that so often passed Alec’s lips. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could Alec interrupted him. “But asking me to eat disgusting pizza is too much.”

Magnus laughed, his head tilting back and his chest shuddering. Alec wondered at how Magnus laughing somehow made him more beautiful than he already was. His face lighting up as he smiled wide, glowing in such a way that Alec was mesmerised, never wanting to look away, content to live the rest of his life taking in Magnus’ features and watching different expressions play across his face. Alec swallowed hard, his heart beating faster when Magnus turned that ethereal smile his way and gazed at Alec with so much love and softness.

“I suppose it would be too much to ask. I’m sorry I even suggested it,” Magnus teased, wiping his hands with a dish towel before placing one delicately against Alec’s cheek, an action Alec invariably leaned into, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment of their own accord as they always did. Once he opened his eyes Magnus smiled gently before leaning in and pressing their lips together for a mere moment before leaning back, rubbing his thumb against Alec’s cheek.

“Now, will you help me put this definitely not disgusting pizza in the oven?”

“Yes. You know I will,” Alec said smiling and shaking his head minutely so as not to dislodge Magnus’ hand.

“Great,” Magnus said, punctuating the word by patting Alec’s cheek before pulling his hand away and turning back to focus on the pizza. “I am sure that it is going to turn out amazing.”

“So am I.” Alec shook his head fondly, unable to disagree with Magnus when he was smiling like that.

“I’m glad you’re seeing reason, Alexander.”

Alec huffed a laugh as he opened the oven so Magnus could slide the pizza in. He took one last sceptical look at it before closing the oven and releasing a deep breath. As Alec continued to stare at the closed oven doors, worrying about his near future inevitably full of him eating at best subpar pizza, Magnus entered his space,  placing his hands on Alec’s hips. Alec turned to look at Magnus happily; he took in the content smile on Magnus’ face and felt a matching one settle on his own.

“You know, that pizza won’t be done baking for at least eight minutes,” Magnus breathed, tugging Alec just that little bit closer.

“Hmm, really?” Alec’s gaze dropped to Magnus’ lips and his heart startled in his chest.

“Really,” Magnus replied, smirking as he watched Alec stare at his lips.

Alec hummed in response before breaching the space between them and kissing Magnus, catching Magnus’ bottom lip between his own. Magnus sighed into the kiss, bringing up one of his hands to the back of Alec’s neck, scratching at the short hairs there.

After what Alec believed to be much too little time, Magnus broke the kiss, pulling back far enough so he could properly look into Alec’s eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Alec breathed, unable to stop a soft smile from forming as he got lost in Magnus’ eyes and his entire body hummed with warmth and love.

anonymous asked:

can you do 1 and 33 with e or gray???

i found a prompt that said “write a scene that takes place in a driveway with a blue scarf” so i combined it with this request :-)


Waking up in the morning is a process of registering particular things, often in various orders. However, at some point, you will register that your toes are dangerously close to poking out from underneath your fuzzy throw blanket. Then, you might register that you fell asleep with your phone next to your pillow and the screen is brightly displaying a notification from one of your three weather apps. Somewhere, your mind might comprehend that the sun is rising earlier each morning and that the sun draws harsher with each time.

And last, but certainly not least, your mind awakens to accompany the very sleepy boy clinging tight to your waist as the shrill ding of your alarm draws open his eyelids.

Keep reading

  • Things I love and enjoy a lot: Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon English dub, Digimon: The Movie English dub, Digimon Adventure tri., literally everything about Meiko Mochizuki
  • Things I DO NOT love and enjoy: People who tell me not to like those things.
  • Things I ALSO DO NOT love and enjoy: People who claim they're superior for liking or not liking certain aspects of the Digimon franchise, anime, games, ships, etc.
  • Things I love and respect: People who have opinions on Digimon, but do not spread hate and do not attack people who enjoy Digimon differently.
  • Things that are perfect: Gomamon

anonymous asked:

when in times of trouble i think about what would tony stark do and i messed my legs and arms up pretty badly and so am in a wheelchair and don't have much control and so am now back in hospital because i bloody fell out trying to turn a corner and life and just imagined tony after a mission being put in a wheelchair then hurriedly removed again because it's more dangerous in the chair than out

Let’s not lie he would turn it into like. Iron Man Armour or something. Make it fly and then just descend down into a room like a boss . Red and Gold. Has Repulors and can also travel at 130mph. It’s a death machine it’s worse than the actual Iron Man armour because he doesn’t wear that 24/7 but he’s always in that fucking wheelchair causing chaos.