tim with a knife in his hands: damian, step away from the computer

damian reading superbat fanfiction on tim’s personal laptop: i wanted to play roblox, but this is adequate writing, are you in need of a beta reader by chance?

david jenkins only ever wanted 3 seasons.

3 seasons to tell their story.

and even after slashing their budget nearly in half, making them cut the amount of episodes and their runtimes, and having to cut out and rewrite entire storylines, that still wasn’t enough.

fuck you, david zaslav.

Funniest bit of the dnd movie is Xenk clearly being an NPC the DM introduced for lore and plot purposes who’s a competent fighter because of course he is, his reputation and backstory require it. But whoopsies the DM made him too powerful, the whole party likes him, and now they want him to come with to fight the BBEG which will completely and utterly fuck up the encounter balance

So instead of there being any actual plot reason he can’t join Xenk just says “I can’t. This is something only you can do.” And then walks off, never to interact with the party again because the DM just knows those little shits will find a way to use their OP creation against them

Begging swifties to understand that Taylor didn’t write reputation and Lover with the knowledge of how the relationship was going to end and that trying to “excavate” those albums for evidence to prove a specific theory as to why it ended is not how they should be viewed. Taylor wrote those songs feeling a very specific way because that’s what she was experiencing and she is now reflecting on them with hindsight and relates to them differently than when she first created them. These conflicting emotions can exist; how she views it now doesn’t diminish how she felt about it when she first released it.

going insane thinking about the harrow and palamedes friendship. harrow, who has never met another necromancer her age forming a bizarro 3D chess rivalry while pal worries about her safety at every possible turn. harrow, who is up to her eyebrows in paranoia and secrecy, trusting the sixth house with gideon unconscious and hurt, letting them into the ninth house quarters unsupervised. if “i cannot conceive of a universe without you in it” is goth for i love you, “death first to vultures and scavengers” has got to be goth for i love you (platonic). pal’s first reaction when harrow comes into his bubble in the river is to scoop her up in a hug, and at this point she doesn’t remember anything about him because cutting out all her memories of gideon is impossible without cutting out memories of the sixth, but she still makes him a skelehand to inhabit anyway. when harrow’s memories are finally whole, she tells dulcinea she couldn’t face pal knowing that his pen pal girlfriend died on her account, but the next time she “faces” him, palamades’s soul is in someone else’s body and harrow’s body is full of nona’s soul. he spends six months protecting and caring for harrow’s body (and nona obv), believing in the possibility of bringing her back to it the same way cam believed in him. “god, do you know i miss harrow terribly.” and by the time harrow comes back to her body at the very end of ntn, pal is gone forever, fully pauled. the last time harrow and palamades see each other as their complete selves is in canaan house, alive and unlyctored. two of the smartest and loneliest people in the solar system meet each other in the worst of circumstances and spend the rest of the story dancing around each other as fragments of themselves, trying to care about each other in the interim but never fully meeting like they did the first time. a friendship made almost entirely of missing the other person. “do you know i miss harrow terribly.” god. i need to lie down

Wyrm on a string

Turn me inside out

Never thought i'd see or hear the day where movie Mike would say "Ight bet"

I love making Mike talk like this

Nobody is as excited about the preview as I am. I have paragraphs.

finnick odair who has been by your side for as long as your memories stretched. as children, you played on the beach, celebrated your birthdays together. your parents often remarked, “they’re attached at the hip,” with chuckles and eye rolls when you’d ask your mom for the third night in a row to have a sleepover. you and him were inseparable.

he was the same finnick odair who would give you seashells that resembled the colour of your eyes or braid your hair after a tiring swim. he was the same finnick who stood tall; gave you a nod of ‘it’s going to be okay’ when he was reaped for the 65th hunger games. he was the same boy you always knew when he hugged you goodbye as you sobbed into his chest.

he remained the same finnick odair who returned home after the games, only to eventually turn into what they called the capitol’s darling—meaning he was absent more often than you’d prefer. for some time, you were left in the dark. he’d return dejected, eyes weary, and quiet. the truth eluded you until that night you held him in your arms, the both of you cried, your fingers gently brushed through his hair as he told you everything.

he was still the finnick odair you knew when your named had been called during the reaping for the 70th hunger games. fortune could have favored you; you were recently eighteen, and you could’ve been free after this year’s games. yet, there you were, standing next to another district 4 boy who once worked for your father. when you found finnick in the crowd, you nodded, as he now occupied the position you were in years before.

he stayed the same finnick odair you forever knew, who embraced you as soon as you returned. he was still the same man when he gently brushed your hair away from your traumatized eyes. you didn’t eat for a week, despite his attempts to encourage you. he was there when you woke up screaming from nightmares, and he was there when you ran to the bathroom to vomit.

“we’re alike in ways i wish we weren’t, sweet girl.” finnick had finally gotten you out to the beach since your victory in the games, it’s almost been a year now. he worries at his bottom lip, looking down at you while shaking his head softly. “i love you… and…,” finnick started in a whisper, “you’ve always been my anchor. you’ve always been that one thing that could mend the broken parts of me.” you took a sharp inhale, unable to help the stinging feeling in your eyes as tears formed. finnick odair, the man that never changed in your eyes; the man who cared for you at your worst. he was the same man who had a collection of seashells on his nightstand, only because they were the colour of your eyes. the man who loves you.

I bet choso is so weird when he’s into u like u go out with friends and he just stares at u and it’s like that for weeks like he just doesn’t say anything to u first ever but he’s just. Always there he doesn’t really know what to do about it but he knows in his brain ur already his and like sometimes he’s next to u in the bar like on guard looking over your shoulder and u don’t even realize it until u turn around and more often than not he scares the shit out of you but eventually u get kind of used to him always being there and you’re not sure what changed or if anything ever did but now your leaning into him and letting him hold his arm across your chest protectively and sometimes he gets this scary look on his face when people look at you but honestly you don’t even mind it

average childhood “best friends” marriage pact

I sincerely hope every artist gets to have the experience of falling in love with their art someday. even if you have to fight for it. i think we all deserve to look at the result of our creativity all giddy and go holy shit, I loved making this! I love the lines I put down and the colors I used and the indulgences I’ve taken. I love seeing things I liked and taking it for my own, pushing and molding and playing. I can’t wait to do it again

loop my beloved

you started measuring yuujis height on the wall of your closest, and one day yuuji asks sukuna to measure him because he desperately hopes he can be as tall as his brother, but sukuna being sukuna without yuuji looking, draws a little pencil line on the wall a couple inches shorter than the previous one from months prior. he then proclaims that the boy didn’t grow, but in fact has shrunk. anddddd of course the kid comes into your room in hysterics absolutely terrified of getting even smaller, and you have to reassure him the his brother was a messing with him and he is in fact NOT shrinking