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[writing-prompt-s]

After accidentally summoning something not from this world, all you can think to ask is to breathe better. You’ve always had a breathing problem, and you want it gone. “Oh honey, That’s all?” she says, “you’re such a good soul, I can help with so much more. I’ll help, on the house, for you.”

[shouldnotbethunking]

“Oh, shit,” was the first thing out of Jade’s mouth when the puff of smoke appeared in the middle of her living room. Next was an undignified serious of coughs as she doubled over. She recovered fast, though, when she noticed the distinctly not human feet she was staring at, and jumped with a shocked noise. Her eyes met the…creature?

It wasn’t humanoid, that was for sure. It had nine spindly limbs, darker than shadow and thicker than smoke. There were three limbs on either side of it, one in the front expending for its equivalent of a belly, one in the back from where she would imagine a tailbone would end if it had one, and one like a horn from the top of its head. It was taller than Jade by a few feet (excluding the top appendage), forcing her to look up to meet what she assumed was its eyes, two glowing white trapezoids in the center of its spherical head(?).

Its head turned to the side softly, and it emitted a noise that made Jade’s stomach turn. If her feet were not metaphorically frozen to the floor in fear, she would’ve bolted. After a few moments, it made a noise that, while grating, sounded close enough to English that she understood it. “You have brought me here,” it croaked out, and she almost squeaked at the sound like…like…like a dolphin dying of asphyxiation inside of a giant beach ball. She’d have to workshop that one. “What do you want?”

“I…” she swallowed after a few awkward moments of silence when she realized it was talking. To her. Meaning it wanted her to respond. See, she didn’t like that. She also had absolutely zero clue what was going on. “What?”

The creature turned its head in the other direction, cocking it to the left this time. “What,” it asked again, voice shaking the room this time from its intensity, “do you want from me? You have summoned me. Beware, gifts come at a great cost.”

Jade gaped at the creature. What? “What do I want,” she said slowly, trying and failing to keep her voice steady, “from you?”

It bristled, the shadows it was made of growing larger behind it like a balding parrot’s squawking would look if it were turned into a physical presence. Point was, it made her chest seize and her take a stumbling step back. “Yes. Answer the question,” it snarled, and a glass fell off the cabinet behind it.

“I, uh, I’m good,” she said dumbly. “I don’t really want anything for a, you know, drastic cost and all that.” Play it cool. If she pretended that this was normal, and she wasn’t scared, then it would leave, right? Probably. Hopefully.

“That is not an option,” it bristled once more, voice growing louder, but a tinge of what sounded almost like confusion slipped into its tone, before melting into something between rage and annoyance. “You dare summon me just to waste my time? Why, I ought to teach you a lesson, mortal.”

“No! No, I didn’t, I swear,” Jade blurted out, probably out of turn. “I didn’t even mean to, like, summon you or anything. Not that I don’t like you! Just that I’m not, you know, really into summoning demo….things. Summoning things. Yeah,” she rambled awkwardly, slowly backing towards the kitchen where her half-constructed sandwich laid.

“Do not lie to me—“

“Not lying, I swear!” She interrupted, before slamming her hands over her mouth. Shit. Probably shouldn’t have done that. Well, too late to take it back now. “Wait. Actually, if you’re offering,” she trailed off. She hated her stupid freaking asthma. And she means, how much could it ask to just get rid of that one, teensy, tiny medical condition. Not much, right? Hopefully not her soul. She’d like to keep her souls as it, thank you very much. “Could you, like, get rid of my asthma? Without killing me, of course.” She added the last part hastily, remembering everything that she had heard about genies. Dumbly, she held up the sandwich. “I’ll give you a sandwich. It’s good.” Oh god, just kill her now.

The shadow creature was silent moment. “You did not mean to summon me?” It asked slowly after a moment. When she nodded, its entire form seemed to soften, shrinking down. She swore that it had less limbs now. “You want to breathe. In exchange for a sandwich?” It croaked out, voice just as haunting.

She nodded slowly, trying to school her expression.

“Oh honey, that’s all?” It said, and she blinked at the nickname. “You’re such a good soul, I can help with so much more. I’ll help, on the house, for you.”

[shouldnotbethunking]

The worst part about it wasn’t them hurting me. It was how okay you were with me hurting.

[shouldnotbethunking]

I met you when you needed me most and lost you when I needed you most, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that

[shouldnotbethunking]

I’m not challenging your authority. I am denying it’s right to control me.

[shouldnotbethunking]

I see your Bruce Wayne is dating Batman rumors and raise you this:

Everyone knows that Bruce Wayne is dating Batman. Everyone knows that Jason Todd is Red Hood. Everyone knows that Jason Todd is Bruce Wayne’s dead son. Everyone knows Red Hood hates Batman. This is all a very open secret. Everyone knows Tim Drake and Red Robin have a very public beef with one another. And that Red Hood used to have a very public (but much more violent) beef with the third Robin.

This leads to the general accepted truth being that Red Hood hates Batman because he is fucking his dad, and Tim Drake and Red Robin dislike each other because Tim’s brother beat up Red Robin, and, once again, Red Robin’s dad is fucking Tim’s. Everyone feels a little bad for Red Robin, being at the end of both Red Hood’s and Tim Drake’s distaste, because the former is a crime lord and the latter is *Timothy Jackson Drake*.

This, naturally, reaches the JL whom does not know Batman’s identity yet. Green Arrow makes a passing comment about having also fucked Wayne, which Batman overhears. Cue absolute bat confusion, which he does not show. And that was how the great Batman found out that he accidentally 100% enforced the rumors that he was dating himself by the way he replied to reporters strange questions that in hindsight were so incredibly obvious.

This whole time, Young Justice is having the time of their lives (while also becoming increasingly concerned) as they watch Tim switch between devices as he replies to himself on different accounts on Twitter to further his own feud with Red Robin.

And Jason is. Not sure how he feels. On one hand, Bruce is now very uncomfortable about many, many things. And people yell at Batman when he starts treating Jason like his son (especially when he yells “I’m not your son!” Because what kind of boyfriend would try to make their boyfriend’s kid their own when they clearly don’t want to be). That’s an upside. But on the other, this implies that he is *Bruce’s* son. And that brings up a lot of feelings he doesn’t want to deal with. And back on that first hand, people have mostly stopped making thirst traps of his dad (gross). And on the second once more, they have started shipping Red Robin and Tim.

And the others are just sitting back and enjoying the ride (they are absolutely a part of this, but I’m too lazy to type out and come up with ideas for the rest)

[unlikelycupcaketrash]

this is wonderful but i would like you to consider:

batman and bruce wayne just never mention each other. they only talk about each other when necessary and even then it’s cold and detached.

in reality he does this to limit any ties or feelings or info that could compromise his secret identity but the public doesn’t know about that so what does that leave them with?

bruce wayne and batman are obviously bitter exes.

everything is the same as you’ve already said just instead of RH hating batman bc he’s fucking his dad, he hates him bc he hurt is dad in the breakup, same for the Red Robin and Tim Drake beef.

to me this can make things so much funnier, AND limit the amount of “wait so if our dads got together would that make my bf my brother eww” bc their dads already broke up and hate each other. other bonuses are further enabling the red drake shipping + amount of angst and crack in said shipping

[dark-dragon-8]

Thank you all, I'm going to incorporate all of this into my overly delayed Batfam fic.

[shouldnotbethunking]

Yes….infect them all with the curse of this knowledge

[inks-books]

"I like my men like I like my whiskey."

"You told me you hated whiskey."

"I'm a lesbian, Harold. That's the point."

[shouldnotbethunking]

I need to get used to, like, having a presence. Or more specifically leaving a presence. Like, someone was here, I existed, and I’m not afraid or ashamed of that. Not be scared of what will happen if I try to carve out a space for myself in the world and the world carves me back out. Because that’s the beauty of life isn’t it? Trying to carve out a place in the world for ourselves only for the world to try and carve us back. Idk. Just thunking again I guess.

[shouldnotbethunking]

Yall I did it ❤️ (now you’re proud of me. Non-optional. Hah. Skill issue)

[shouldnotbethunking]

“Man you’re so strong for that, I could never deal with having those kinds of scars—“

Uh. No. I’m not strong. I’m just not dead. “God” doesn’t give his “hardest battles” to her “strongest soldiers”. They give them to random people. And most of those people die. You just don’t see that because you don’t live your life in a graveyard.

[writing-prompt-s]

A vain queen routinely asked her mirror if she was the most beautiful of them all. It always responded in the negative. Despite her obsession, she sacrificed her perfect skin to save a small child from dragonfire, marring it irreparably. She sullenly checked the mirror one final time.

[shouldnotbethunking]

Authority: you don’t have to do this optional thing if you don’t want to, it’s your choice

Me: okay, no thanks

Authority: you are a bad person

Me: but you just said I didn’t have to??? And it will physically hurt me??? Like a lot??? Like I’ll probably throw up from the pain??? And I don’t want to???

Authority: bad. bad person

Me: fine I’ll do it

Authority: you’re still a bad person for thinking of not doing it and will still be punished.

Me: 😐

[shouldnotbethunking]

I gave you an olive branch, and you burned down the forest. Fuck you.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Lazy Confessions Animatic :D

Enjoy a lil treat made between chapter edits!! And featuring many scenes yet to come :)

Fic link!

[novelistwriter]

The Runaway Scientist

DP x DC Prompt

There is a young man running around the world. Normally, this wouldn't be a cause for concern for the Justice League, but this young man isn't an ordinary person. This young man is someone who rivals the greatest minds the League has to offer, who has tech with him that's very advanced, despite being made of everyday appliances, with a clean source of energy that no one knows of, no one but the young man they are chasing.

Batman was the first to encounter him in Gotham. The young man was doing something in an abandoned warehouse, and the Bats caught wind of it. Batman tried to interrogate the young man on what he was doing, but instead, he found himself flipped over and pinned down himself. The young man had realized who he pinned down and quickly fled with most of what he had. The only thing left behind was a high-tech belt. When they analyzed the belt, it was revealed to be a personal shield that could withstand a full force kryptonion punch with minor cracks on it.

Then, he began to be encountered by other League members across the US for a few months before he was sighted in other countries.

Now, it's become a race against time, as the League needs to get to the young man who may be an upcoming genius scientist, as their enemies caught wind of him.

Danny is on the run. The GIW had killed his family and friends to get to him when they learned that he was Phantom. His parents had just accepted him as Phantom as well. He took all of his parents' research and tools and destroyed the portal. He's using the Fenton Crammer to store the bigger things in a Thermos, like the Ops Center, the finished model of the Ecto Skeleton, the Fenton ATV, the GAV, the Fenton Submarine, the Specter Speeder, and the Prototype of the Fenton Rocket. He thought he could hide out in Gotham for a bit, but then he had to attack Batman, the adrenaline from escaping Amity and his training from when Pandora and his other mentors for him, Clockwork said that he needs training in martial arts because he is the Ghost King, and a King needs to defend himself. So he ran again, not knowing he left a modified Specter Deflector behind.

And now that he's on the run from the Justice League because he attacked a founding member, not knowing that the Justice League just wants to talk and maybe make him a scientist (plus the Batfam trying to convince Batman that this isn't someone to adopt). He now has to deal with the bad guys of the Justice League wanting him, as well as the GIW and the Justice League, his most recent encounter? A very old Fruitloop with ectoplasm in him that's the equivalent of Fast Food for Ghosts who wants him as his Heir, all because he easily bested the Fruitloop in a fight.

[novelistwriter]

Another of my scientist Danny prompts for you all after my recent one

[shouldnotbethunking]

Wild that when you are supposed to “respect” someone (respect defined as: treat them as if they are above you), you’re supposed to control involuntary actions. Like the “annoyed” look in your eyes. Your body language. Just. Holy power trip Batman.

[shouldnotbethunking]

My morals are not conditional. You can hate someone and still protect them from something that nobody should have to go through. Horrible people can be kind, and kind people can be horrible. My morals are NOT conditional. If I had to choose between justice for myself or protecting the worst on this earth from unimaginable suffering, I would save them every time. It’s like what they say about community—I want you to eat, just not at my table. Too many people don’t realize that. If we start setting precedents for when morals are conditional, where do we draw the line? When is it enough? Will we ever be satisfied? Morals are not conditional.

[mygoldendear]

“Non-violence is an inherently privileged position in the modern context. Besides the fact that the typical pacifist is quite clearly white and middle class, pacifism as an ideology comes from a privileged context. It ignores that violence is already here; that violence is an unavoidable, structurally integral part of the current social hierarchy; and that it is people of color who are most affected by that violence. Pacifism assumes that white people who grew up in the suburbs with all their basic needs met can counsel oppressed people, many of whom are people of color, to suffer patiently under an inconceivably greater violence, until such time as the Great White Father is swayed by the movement’s demands or the pacifists achieve that legendary “critical mass.” People of color in the internal colonies of the US cannot defend themselves against police brutality or expropriate the means of survival to free themselves from economic servitude. They must wait for enough people of color who have attained more economic privilege (the “house slaves” of Malcolm X’s analysis) and conscientious white people to gather together and hold hands and sing songs. Then, they believe, change will surely come. People in Latin America must suffer patiently, like true martyrs, while white activists in the US “bear witness” and write to Congress. People in Iraq must not fight back. Only if they remain civilians will their deaths be counted and mourned by white peace activists who will, one of these days, muster a protest large enough to stop the war. Indigenous people need to wait just a little longer (say, another 500 years) under the shadow of genocide, slowly dying off on marginal lands, until-well, they’re not a priority right now, so perhaps they need to organize a demonstration or two to win the attention and sympathy of the powerful. Or maybe they could go on strike, engage in Gandhian noncooperation? But wait-a majority of them are already unemployed, noncooperating, fully excluded from the functioning of the system. Nonviolence declares that the American Indians could have fought off Columbus, George Washington, and all the other genocidal butchers with sit-ins; that Crazy Horse, by using violent resistance, became part of the cycle of violence, and was “as bad as” Custer. Nonviolence declares that Africans could have stopped the slave trade with hunger strikes and petitions, and that those who mutinied were as bad as their captors; that mutiny, a form of violence, led to more violence, and, thus, resistance led to more enslavement. Nonviolence refuses to recognize that it can only work for privileged people, who have a status protected by violence, as the perpetrators and beneficiaries of a violent hierarchy. Pacifists must know, at least subconsciously, that nonviolence is an absurdly privileged position, so they make frequent usage of race by taking activists of color out of their contexts and selectively using them as spokespersons for nonviolence. Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. are turned into representatives for all people of color. Nelson Mandela was too, until it dawned on white pacifists that Mandela used nonviolence selectively, and that he actually was involved in liberation activities such as bombings and preparation for armed uprising. Even Gandhi and King agreed it was necessary to support armed liberation movements (citing two examples, those in Palestine and Vietnam, respectively) where there was no nonviolent alternative, clearly prioritizing goals over particular tactics. But the mostly white pacifists of today erase this part of the history and re-create nonviolence to fit their comfort level, even while “claiming the mantle” of Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi. One gets the impression that if Martin Luther King Jr. were to come in disguise to one of these pacifist vigils, he would not be allowed to speak. As he pointed out: “Apart from bigots and backlashers, it seems to be a malady even among those whites who like to regard themselves as “enlightened.” I would especially refer to those who counsel, “Wait!” and to those who say that they sympathize with our goals but cannot condone our methods of direct-action in pursuit of those goals. I wonder at men who dare to feel that they have some paternalistic right to set the timetable for another man’s liberation. “Over the past several years, I must say, I have been gravely disappointed with such white “moderates.” I am often inclined to think that they are more of a stumbling block to the Negro’s progress than the White Citizen’s Counciler [sic] or the Ku Klux Klanner.””

— Nonviolence is Racist, How Nonviolence Protects The State by Peter Gelderloos (via quietlyexhale)

[shouldnotbethunking]

Failed my DECA area competition so bad my organs failed me /hj