So Slay

canon: they died

fanfic: fUCK YOU

Remember when that cop pepper-sprayed students in 2011? UC Davis paid $175K to scrub it from the internet’s memory https://t.co/5prbgrx1WL

— Xeni (@xeni) April 14, 2016

You'll never be able to love a single person, you love everyone, you love too much, you'll never be able to place all that love into a romantic relationship.

(My exhausted, sick, and in pain mind came up with when thinking on me being aroace.)

Boss is asleep, cannot stop me from frogposting

I will work on it, It shall be done most likely by this Saturday. I have some homework to do first but I'll start it after that trust. It'll probably be traditional but I'll maybe make it digital at some point and tag you. :p

If I work on my art and draw you a pregnant Jason (for the funsies) how would you react?

How did I miss this ask—

Words cannot express the joy I'd feel to see that f#-%## (/pos) pregnant.

I would probably explode from the happies.

I would sell you my spleen.

Okay, so hear me out. There are species of animals that reject their offspring if they don’t “smell” right. Like something about the pheromones are off and thus the vibes are bad. You can’t be mine, you smell funny. Similarly, we know that hormones and neurochemical reactions play a large part in bonding between human babies and parents. Our brains are swimming in chemicals that have us looking at our squishy, decidedly odd-looking newborns and saying “it’s so cute, I wanna bite it.”

My dudes (gender neutral). My people. My fellow nerds. Superman initially rejecting his clone because he doesn’t smell right. The kid was in a soup of artificial, clone-making chemicals and he doesn’t smell like he should. But what the fuck is he supposed to smell like? Superman having no frame of reference for this crazy feeling, for this intense dislike of a person with his face, and struggling internally with it because he knows logically that this deep revulsion doesn’t make sense. Problem is, he physically can’t help it. Something about this kid makes his teeth itch and his fingers twitch.

Then the kid takes a shower and changes his clothes and oh. Why would I push him away? That’s my baby. Hate him? How could I hate my baby? My baby. My sweet, perfect, amazing angel baby. My baby. My baby. My baby. Mybabymybabymybabymybaby.

And it’s probably hilarious from the outside looking in, because Superman looked ready to light the kid on fire a minute ago and now he’s all gooey-eyed. No thoughts, just sappy smiles and burying his nose in the clone’s hair. He’s ready to pluck the moon from the sky and hang it on a string for his kid. It’s sweet and adorable.

It’s also completely, utterly terrifying. Seeing how quickly one of the strongest beings in the known universe fell victim to his own biology, how wildly the pendulum swung from one extreme to the other. Batman’s immediately planning a trip to the Fortress to gather intel on this reaction. How long does it last? Is it normal? Is it supposed to be like this? Does it have anything to do with the clone being a teenager and not a newborn? Would it be worse with a newborn? Does the League, does he need contingency plans for this?

And Superman—Clark recognizes the sudden shift, but can’t do a thing about it. He should be scared of how every concern in his mind gets swept away by this out-of-control hormonal response, but he doesn’t want to do a thing about it. He can’t help the smile plastered on his face when Kon—what a perfect name, a beautiful name for my baby, mybabymybabyMYbabymyBABYMYBABYMYBABYMYBABY—sighs contently in his sleep or scrunches his nose in disgust at new foods, new sensations.

Something in Clark’s eyes says “I don’t know what’s happening, help me,” but it quickly gets snuffed out by “I will flip this entire universe over if a single hair on my baby’s head is out of place.” And honestly? Yeah, it’s scary, but every parent he knows—Bruce included—totally gets it.

crazy how fanfic authors drop the most beautiful and gorgeous pieces of work ever, leaving you speechless and sobbing at three in the morning as you quietly contemplate the masterpiece you just read

and they don’t get paid for it they just do it because they’re having fun and they want to share their joy with you

like I would literally die for all of you fanfic authors out there reblog to swear your allegiance to fanfic authors

characters going “we were lovers once”: eh, it’s okay i guess. it’s nice enough

characters going “we were friends once”: absolutely devastating. one hit knockout i’m gone

"You could just use ai" yeah well I could also just kill you.