Reblog If You Think Fanfiction Is A Legitimate Form Of Creative Writing.

There is too pure for this world Marvel iterations, and then there's slightly unhinged Marvel iterations.

"I can't drive, but I can hotwire it for you,"

"Cap, why do you know how to hotwire a car? Cap? Marvel!?"

Green Lantern: We need someone to drive the car. Cap, why don’t you get behind the wheel?

Captain Marvel: Nope, can’t do that.

GL: What? Why?

Cap, secretly 12yo: I…don’t have a license. It’s irresponsible.

GL: You don’t ha- This a covert mission! Just drive.

Cap, never even played Mario Kart before: It is my moral obligation to obey all traffic laws.

GL: Just drive the car!

Cap: YOU CAN’T MAKE ME

u ever have on mutuals whos so deep in another fandom that u know absolutely zero about and they make posts that look like they speaking another language or some shit

Since they're black bears, you go on the offensive. Big, loud, and threatening. Scare them away. If it was an Eight Brown Fucking Bears opening, you go on the defensive. Play dead. Minimal moves. They smell fear. If they were white bears, you have the bishops make peace with their gods and send forth your people as sacrifices in hopes that they will sate its hunger before it reaches you.

I'm still pretty new to chess, can anyone tell me what I'm supposed to do if my opponent plays the Eight Fucking Bears opening? I'm really having trouble.

There are several beats where no one talks. It stretches. Phantom tilts his head. "Is there a further issue?" He asks.

"Yeah, you're possessing my little brother's fucking corpse. He-fuck!" The red helmeted one (he should probably ask for names) snarled and kicked out at the wall.

"Hood-" the one in black and blue tries to speak, but is ferociously cut off.

"No, don't you DARE tell me to fucking calm down! He's dead! Tim fucking died! Another Robin died alone and in pain in a warehouse, help just a few minutes too late and- fuck! Motherfucking," Hood let out an incensate noise of raise, half cry of anger half sob, "We heard our little brother die, and you ask me if there's a fucking ISSUE?!" It was at this point that Hood turned violently and accusatorily to Phantom.

Phantom paused. He... rarely dealt with the bereaved anymore. He remembered guilt. He remembered grief. He knew that in each moment of intense grief, he imagined that it had felt like dying. Again. He knew better now.

But he also knew it was distant. It had been so, so long since he was human and felt things the way they did. He had long gotten over that, but every so often it panged back into him. The feeling of other. The feeling that though he may command Space, there was still so much between him and others.

Phantom slid off the box he was sitting on and approached Hood. The beings around him scrambled; to get out of or into his way, he didn't know. Hood refused to move. Phantom stopped in front of him.

"I grieve with you," He spoke through still healing vocal cords (deadaloneafraidpainnononoIwanttolivenonoIwantmyDad-) and let the tears he had hardly noticed holding back began to fall. "Your grief is mine, and I grieve with you," And then Phantom began to Sing.

It wasn't in any human tongue. It didn't use vocal cords so it wouldn't strain the child's (a child) body any further.

It echoed and reverberated through the warehouse and heard as others began to sob underneath its weight. It was loss. It was grief. It was despair and pain made into a noise and driven into the soul in horrible, haunting melody.

But there was hope. Of course he added hope, this wasn't the end. Trauma and memories would remain, as would scars, but healing would be found in time. A new joy of lost loved ones coming back because they would not truly rest until they did. It wasn't the end. Not a goodbye, but until I see you again.

Death was not the end.

His Song tapered off in one final warble that rang through the warehouse until silence returned. The people within stared at him. The pretty magic user sniffed heavily before lowering her head. Good, she knew the significance of a Song delivered by one of the dead.

"We are honoured," She spoke tremulously through her own tears.

Phantom inclined his head in return. "The honour is mine," he replied. Then paused. "Hood?" He asked.

"What?" The man asked, voice warbling and broken through his helmet. There was a sharp burst of static that might've been a sniff.

The edges of Phatom's vision through this body was darkening and blurring at the edges. He had forgotten a lot of things about blood loss. Like the dizziness that came with, lightheadedness, and fainting.

"You might want to catch. I don't think adding a concussion to the list of injuries is a good idea," Phantom collapsed in a rush of darkened vision and briefly feeling strong arms catch him and hearing buzzing shouts before he was out.

Danny's Nest

Tim gets sacrificed in a ritual to summon "the ALL powerful conqueror, Phantom". And by sacrificed, I mean Tim really dies and Danny is forced into his body forcefully.

There's no coming back from that. Not even after the cultists are stopped.

They couldn't let Geordi in on the "does Data count as a person?" discussion because he would have immediately obliterated anyone arguing he doesn't. Geordi would hear someone try to argue Data's perception isn't real because it's electrical signals or whatever and he'd just be like "so like how my visor works?" and then they'd start backpedaling

He was- he was- ithurtithurtithurtithurtithurt- dying. The moments were ticking down, blood dribbling down his face and from so many wounds his vision swam.

How long had he been there? Too long. B was- he was coming, right? He had to be. His dad was coming for him. But... what if he was too late? There was a bomb, and Jason HURT and he could barely move or think or- he was crying.

He face screwed up at his sobbed, and even that hurt the cuts on his face, the J on his cheek where that-that LUNATIC carved it into him. Salty tears stung at his cuts, and his ribs ached as his breath stuttered. He didn't know what to do.

He didn't know what to do.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to.

But he was just laying on the ground, bleeding out as a bomb tick tick ticked down.

Maybe it was reflex. Maybe the thoughts of impending death brought it to the forefront. Catherine came back for him. He wanted to stay for his dad. He could do that, right?

Jason began to pray. 'Please, let me live. I don't want to die. I don't want to leave dad or Alfred, or even Dick. I'm not ready. Please, please, please help me.'

His breath stuttered and his chest ached as cracked and broken ribs pushed painfully inside him. "Please..." He whispered. And then the bomb stopped ticking, and Jason knew no more.

---------------------------------------

There was a cacauphonus Boom across the empty desert, and Bruce almost felt his heart stop in his chest. No no no, he couldn’t be too late. No no nononono- his thoughts only grew more frantic as he approached the smoldering pile of rubble that used to be a warehouse.

Please let Jason be out, please not my SON-

"Robin!" He shouted, voice cracking across the smoldering rubble as he dismounted his cycle and sprinted towards the still smoking rubble. "Robin!" He yelled again, voice breaking as he started sprinting along the edges, ears straining to hear something, anything-

There. At the back, barely outside of the smoldering wreckage was an unmoving pile of red, yellow, and green.

Bruce knew he didn't have the meta gene. He had checked multiple times. But in that moment it felt like he teleported to Jason's side as he fell to his knees next to his baby boy. He was covered in ash and blood, face pale around a red, carved J (don't think about it, don't let your blood boil, Jason needs a father not a murderer-) and eyes closed behind his torn mask. Fingers to pulse fingers to pulse, where wherewherewhere-

There. There. Right there was his son's heart beat. The wheezing rise and fall of his chest. Alive. Alive. His son was alive.

Batman did not cry. But Bruce did. He looked at his wounded, broken son and cried as he called the Batplane on his wrist computer. It was better not to move Jason, he reassured himself as he checked for spinal injury. And if it was because he felt like he would undoubtedly collapse again if he tried to stand up was just a plus.

"...dad?" Jay whispered, and Bruce started crying all over again.

"I'm here, I'm here Jaylad,"

"He came,"

"Who?"

"Death," Bruce's heart jolted. "Told 'em I couldn't go yet. He saved me. He came and he saved me...," Bruce heard the roar of incoming engines and hastened to make sure it was safe to move Jason. Jason had passed out again after his cryptic words, and Bruce was trying to ignore the feeling it left in his gut.

Jason had his beleifs, and Bruce had always supported him in them. Bruce himself was Jewish by his mother. He had heard of Jason's Death God and helped gather supplies for Jason's small altar that he prayed at.

Bruce didn't really believe in any God. But in a world of monsters, myths, and aliens...

"Thank you for saving my son," Bruce whispered into the air. Even if he was wrong, and speaking to no one and nothing, it didn't hurt to say it.

Bruce lifted Jason into his arms and approached the already lowered stairs to the Batplane.

God-Brother

Jason Todd is pagan. His religion is not anything related to any pre-existing cultures, but something that's based on a throw-away comment by Catherine Todd after one of her worst trips.

"He was so kind," she said in between mutterings, somewhat delirious and dangerously dehydrated. "Didn't push me to follow. Just took my hand and guided me back."

Jason Todd, who knew that her mom had almost died that time, always thought that the Death God had granted Catherine more time to be with him. That is until she took too much and not even a soft-hearted God could bring her back to life.

That faith remained after he dedicated prayers to his God; the world seemed to tilt just right when he remembered to speak to Him. It was almost like having a guardian angel.

Jason wasn't aware how right he was.

The same thing happened to me when I saw it a few years ago. There was this little girl in front of me, who went 'no!' and was crying.

Got to see Hadestown for the first time ever today (and it was amazing oh my god I had no idea what I was missing) and I'd just like to give a shout out to the poor soul in the audience who had clearly never heard the myth of Orpheus before, because when Orpheus turned around at the end the audience was dead silent except for this one very audible gasp of "no!" from somewhere in the crowd. And after Euridyce was gone and Orpheus dropped to his knees in grief, all anybody --cast, audience, the uncaring gods, etc -- could hear was muffled weeping from the same person

Reblog if you think it’s okay to platonically say “I Love You” to your friends

what is your favorite thing to write or read in fanfiction? Or in general?

Fix-its. It's just so satisfying to see something get better. To see how authours justify and manipulate the timeline and circumstances to make a believable way that things can be better. I love seeing someone go no, this tragedy will have a happy ending because I will MAKE one. Hope is made of gritted, blood stained teeth, and fix-its are biting on and not letting go.