#(heh heh)

[mellounir]

a bit more practice Soaps of different kinds

you know where to find full pics

[occasionalauthoring]

No 16 from the prompt list, Character A made to live through/experience B's worst memory but make it the kids going through his memories in general. Not only his parents tho, I'm thinking more like his training years (getting tortured for days to test him, him almost dying before being able to train with the monks, LoA, etc etc)

No pressure tho!

Of course you went to the angst page niki

Bruce storms down the ramp of the ship, cape whipping behind him, and Clark springs up from the wall he was slumped against. "Report."

"Robin was reported missing at oh-three hundred hours by Wonder Girl when he missed the third check-in with base. Code M7 call went out by oh-three-twelve when Impulse had cleared his residences, and Tier 5 mobilisation was completed within fifteen minutes."

Heroes plaster themselves to the walls as Clark and Bruce storm by, rapidly getting out of the way. It seems everyone knows what's happening with his son except him, and the controlled panic he's been in since Diana arrived on Thungae to relieve his diplomatic visit and take his place is fraying at the edges.

"Robin was located by oh-six hundred," Clark continues, his own frantic energy simmering under a level tone as he reports the last two days. "And retrieved from an underground bunker in Kraków by three assets in a stealth operation."

They veer left towards the medbay, and Bruce feels his anxiety ramp at the crisp, chemical air suffusing his senses. "He has been almost entirely unresponsive since his retrieval, to both audio and physical stimuli. Limited mental probes were authorised by Nightwing twenty-nine hours post-retrieval, and corroborated reports from the rescue team on equipment present and the hypothesis Robin suffered mental manipulation."

"What type?" Bruce asks, storming through the emergency centre, past heroes getting patched up, towards the long-term care corridor.

"His mind was suspended and overriden to show the memories of someone else. We extracted him from the coma but there seems to be lingering psychological effects we can't diminish."

"Who's memories?" He stops in the break room, filled with snacks and beverages for bereaved colleagues and friends.

Dick stands from one of the couches, and Bruce reaches out to his eldest, cataloguing his sagged shoulders, eye bags, and stained t-shirt. It doesn't look like he's left the Watchtower since Tim was taken, and tripped right out of bed to get here.

His son sags against him, and Bruce brings him close, looking back to Clark, who suddenly seems awfully reluctant to keep debriefing him.

"It was your memories," Dick whispers into his neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, and Bruce freezes.

Suddenly, everyone else hanging around seems like they'd rather look anywhere else, and Clark visibly shifts between himself and the persona, before settling into it like an armour against the truth. "A team has been dispatched to find the scientist who did it. She has a comatose brother who's assault was never solved, and created a serum that used the blood of another individual to show their memories."

"And she used Robin?" Bruce growls, cradling the back of Dick's head as he stifles his tears.

"She used Tim Drake," Kon corrects, slipping out of the room across the hall, carefully closing the door behind him. "The life of a billionaire is common knowledge, so she figured other than your parents, there isn't anything too bad in your history, which was apparently better than risking it with a civilian who might have hidden tragedies in their past. She was trying to do her experiments with the most harm reduction she could manage."

"'Cept you're Batman," Dick mumbles. "And we have no idea what Tim saw."

"Do we have a chemical breakdown of the serum yet?"

Barry lifts a clipboard, and Bruce lets go of his eldest reluctantly, reaching out to take it and pushing a foot back so Dick falls into Clark's arms.

He scans through the different compounds listed in neat print, scanning through his mental logs of their properties and—

"This is designed to bring forward the most traumatic memories of an individual," he surmises, and gulps. The room seems to collectively shrink back, and Bruce refuses to look up from the page. "I'd need to analyse a sample to be sure, but it seems to be that using DNA, and specific chemical compounds, it induces on the subject the worst memories of the person the DNA sample originated from. In this case...me. Probably—"

"Bruce—"

"—built on her own knowledge of her brother, and the fact whatever attack hospitalised him is probably the worst event in his life. So—"

"Bruce."

He stops, glaring at Hal, who doesn't react. "Do you know what the kid saw? Why he's unresponsive?"

The heavy weight of the room's attention settles on him, and Bruce swallows, looking away. "No."

"You don't know your own worst memory?"

Dick dying. Damian dying. Jason dying. His parents dying.

"Hal." Clark gives him a look, and the Lantern slips away, back down the hall, while Barry steps forward again.

"We believe that you, being the origin of what he saw, may be able to pull him out of this... fugue state that he's in. If not, I have some ideas for a stimulant that could work, but I can't be sure how that will react with the chemicals already in his system."

"What if I, as the origin, make it worse?" Bruce asks, and Bart appears under his grandfather's arm.

"He ain't responding to anything else. You might as well."

Bruce sighs, hesitates, then marches towards the door behind which lies his son. Not allowing himself to hesitate, he opens the door in one smooth movement, revealing his son to him. Lying down under the sheets, eyes open and unresponsive as he stares at the ceiling. The person in the bed bears no resemblance to Bruce's son, too still, too quiet, too placid for it to be his Tim.

His hand slips off the door handle as he steps further into the room, reluctantly leaving the door open, as he knows Tim is under observation and needs to be monitored.

His black strands are swept back from his face, laying in that awkward way that tells you some devoted soul has been by his side for some time, same as the way only one hand lies atop the sheets, turned at an angle it wouldn't naturally fall, left as someone let it go.

Bruce takes that place, easing himself onto the edge of the bed, cradling Tim's hand and pulling it into his lap.

He opens his mouth to speak, finds himself void of any words, and closes it again, then buys himself some time by sliding back the cowl, letting it drop behind him.

He takes up Tim's hand again, stroking his thumb over his knuckles. "Hey, sweetheart," he murmurs, unable to speak at a normal volume, voice suddenly gone. "I know you're probably having a hard time, but I just want you to know I'm here for you, whatever you saw." He gets no response, and some of the desperation he's been bottling up spills over, and he leans closer to Tim's head, clutching his hand. "Can you hear me sweetheart? It's me, it's Bruce."

Tim takes in a shuddering breath, Bruce leans forward, he hears the group by the door tense, waiting for Tim to say something.

His eyes don't leave the ceiling, but winkles form on his forehead, and when he speaks, his voice is weak and grieved.

"Bruce is dead."

[silly-little-arson-frog-offical]

love.

isn't that a funny word? what does it even mean?

of course, you could look it up. read it in a dictionary, or have the meaning light up on pixels in a machine. but that machine has never felt love. and neither has the book, even though it had its wings spread much longer. it doesn't know love.

so why does it get you to tell you the answer?

one could say love is taught. something you see throughout your life, something someone does when their love makes their blood rush with danger and their heart swoon with affection. but there are no class rooms for love, or one kind of love. love is in every house, every different house, every different person. there's rough love, there's kind love. there's unrequited love, there's even languages of love.

but if someone was never taught, then why do they feel love?

some people don't know love. some people have never been loved. they feel the need to find it, to tear their skin open and bleed, to use their insides as ink to write out their utmost feelings to the ones they need to feel love from.

but that's not what love is.

so, i ask again, what does it even mean? what is love?

love never fits into one place. it's a mess, it oozes into every corner of the word and consumes. it takes and makes, it infects, it breaks, it burns. but it's needed as air to lungs, as life to death. and it's beautiful.

there's no one love.

there could never be one love, no matter how morphed and molded it is. no matter how felt, no matter how expressed, no matter how reciprocated. platonic or romantic, organized or spilled, exploding or contained. it could never be uniform no matter the unity.

love is fluid. love mends as much as it harms. it fits everyone uniquely.

that's all i know there is to love.

"Defining Love" By Froggie June 23rd of 2026

[dduane]

EXCLUSIVE: Hackers breach Andrew Tate's online university, leak data on 800,000 users

The hacked data includes roughly 325,000 users' email addresses

“…On Thursday, the hackers made their actions known by flooding the course’s primary chatroom with emojis they uploaded while Tate was streaming an episode of his show “Emergency Meeting” on Rumble. The emojis included a transgender flag, a feminist fist, an AI-generated image of Tate draped in a rainbow flag, another where his buttocks are enlarged, and the cat character used in the “boykisser” meme.“

[bloomness]

⋆˚࿔ shared spaces

kaminari moves into the spare bedroom in your apartment

contains: roommate!kaminari and gn!reader but feminine terms used. weezer mentioned

authors note: honestly this can be taken as romantic or platonic! i just had this idea and wanted to make a little smau out of it

[gluttiny]

{💙pride}

I've been all excited about my silly oni! project lately and really wanted to illustrate the feral form of the first-born on a whim. i just kept thinking about how pretty a deep blue ogre would look. the new trailer for Sinner's Choice also revealed these beautiful demon-eyes that fit perfectly into the AU!

[glitchys-corner]

"this what his stupid ass was doing with spool on that roof"