myheartisoutatsea

Latest Posts by myheartisoutatsea

Assassins Creed Fanfic

Rarepairs, soulmates, lot of stuff. No Harem though, sorry.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61941193

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In this world, soulmates are very real things. On every human's left wrist there is a timer that counts down to when you will first lock eyes with your soulmates. It was such a simple system when it was first created, something to make pairing off easier. Not every soulmated pair falls in love, some even grow to hate each other. Not every human is born with an arm for which their timer to sit, nor eyes to see. Not every pair is attracted to the other, or even of the age to do so.

Some societies and cultures had laws that soulmates must marry, others forbid it. Some viewed it as a platonic bond of loyalty, others a guarantee of sexual attraction. Some viewed the love promised by soulmates as their greatest  strengths, others their greatest weakness. The world has never had just one stance on soulmates, not even in the 21st century. Can Man love Man, Woman love Woman, or even love nobody at all? That answer has often depended not on science or logic or example, but on the shifting tides of opinion. And what a strange thing to base fate on.

I suppose that’s not too different from a god then, is it? How can you ever know what they mean or meant, unless you spoke to them? 

Chapters: 3/61 Fandom: Justice League - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Clark Kent/Reader, Bruce Wayne/Reader, Barry Allen/Reader, Superman/Original Female Character, Batman/Original Female Character, The Flash/Original Female Character Characters: Superman | Clark Kent, Batman | Bruce Wayne, The Flash | Barry Allen, Justice League - Character, extended character ensembles that are appropriate to each charcater, basically related characters Additional Tags: Romance, Secret Identity, Identity Porn, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sex, internal thought processes Summary:

This story will be a sort of preferences, much like my Hetalia fic if you’ve read it, but also technically be both “x Reader” and “x OC.” You see, I really struggle to write with (Y/n) (L/n), or 2nd person POV’s. So I have made three blank slates of OC’s, and wrote romance with them. They technically have backstory and description where it serves the stories. If this interests you, please read. I’ll explain more in the first chapter which characterization and continuity I’m following. Enjoy!

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— Superman Ticket —

_ Alexandra Ogden POV _

You know, I understand why a lot of businesses both do and don’t have ‘friends & family’ discounts. Those things are great for advertising, but can be easily abused. Luckily for me, as my own boss, I can give out discounts wherever I like with little consequence. Plus, my friends tend to feed me while I clean so I call that a net-bonus. A preemptive tip, if you will. Maybe it’s unprofessional, but hey, it works. 

Lois easily moves around the kitchen while I finish cleaning the living room. Last room of her apartment left to clean, it was where she was sitting out of the way while I cleaned the rest of her place, and the last client of the day. I do find cleaning to be enjoyable, because the instant gratification after completing the task is addicting, honestly, but it is tiring. Some places just take some elbow grease, what can I say? 

“Nearly done?” Lois asks. “Almost! Just gotta move your couches back in place, and then I’m done for the day.” I call back, and get to moving said furniture over the newly swept floor. “Good! We haven’t had the chance to hang out in a while.” Lois comments, and I hear her popping open a wine bottle and moving around her cabinets, so I think I have an idea of what she has in store for me. 

She’s not wrong though, we both have been busy. Lois just got a promotion at work, and as a reporter she’s been very busy. She worked incredibly hard to get where she is, and that’s not going to falter because she’s reached one of her goals. No, she’s going to keep going, I know that. I’ve been busy too. My cleaning business is hard as a one-woman show, but I have regular clients who have also recommended my services to their friends and family. So I’ve been swamped. It’s nice to have a routine of which houses I go to in a given week, but the parties I clean up after on the week-ends and now week-days have taken up so much of my time. But the pay has been good, and has been padding me for times when it’ll be slower. 

Once I’m done with the living room I gather my cleaning supplies and place them by the door. I’ll carry them down to my car later. Just on time too, as Lois emerges from her kitchen with two wine glasses filled with a generous amount of a cheap red, if I know her well, and a knowing smile. Lois always knows what's going on. I’d say it's her reporter instincts, but I’ve known her since high-school and she was like this long before she joined the newspaper club. 

I take the offered glass and sit down next to her newly shiny couch. We both drink before talking, because all conversations are better a little buzzed I think. “So, how’d it go?” She asks me, a sly smirk on her face, and I sigh. I know exactly what she’s talking about. I had a date yesterday, one Lois prompted me to go on, and she wants the tea. Too bad it’s going to be very cold. “Not great, how well did you know this guy again?” I prompt, thinking back to how the date went. 

Lois raises her brows in question, and slowly says – “Not especially well, why? What happened?” I lean back and take a sip before I answer. “Like I said, not great, he was very… how do I put this, self-assured? Entitled? He seemed to think my work was either a hobby or not a real job.” I try to explain how he came off, but it’s hard to put it into words. He was just off… and obviously so, but not in a way you could put your finger on immediately. 

“The job that you get paid for?” I nod at Lois’s comment, and she looks stumped. “I’m sorry girl, I thought he would have been better.” I shake my head. “Not your fault, Lois, you didn’t know him well. I just think I’m gonna be done with dates for a while.” I say, and Lois hums in thought. “What if… how about you trust me one more time?” She says, looking excited. 

I look at her, slightly concerned. “Lois, you didn’t do well with the last guy you recommended, why would this one be different?” Lois smiles at me in what I’m sure she thinks is comforting, but it’s one of her determined smiles that makes me think I’m about to be roped into something chaotic again. “Because I’m not the one recommending him!” She explains. “What?” I ask, confused beyond measure now. 

“You remember that photographer at the Daily Planet that I work with?” She pushes on, and I hesitantly reply – “Yes? The sunshine one?” “Yes! He’s worked with this other reporter on my new floor, and he says this guy is a sweetheart, couldn’t hurt a fly. You’d trust sunshine, wouldn’t you?” Lois excitedly asks. I frown a little though. “I don’t know, seems like a risk, really.” Lois pushes on my shoulder a little. 

“Come on, Alex, live a little. You handled the last guy, if this guys the same then no problem, same story, same old song. But what if he’s not?” Lois pressures, and she makes some good points. I have handled bad dates before, what’s one more? I sigh and nod. “Alright, one more blind date.” Lois fist bumps the air in excitement, and I have to crack a smile at that. 

— Break Line —

_ Alexandra Ogden POV _ 

I like cafe dates, it means I can dress casually. The last guy I went on a date with chose a fancy restaurant, obsessively texted me to check I was dressing right, and most certainly did not return the favour. I was not enthused to say the least. So this is much better. Now just to find the man. You’d think Lois would give his number beforehand, but it seems like she wanted to avoid the aforementioned fiasco. Nevermind that, I’ve got to find this guy going off a name and a description. 

Clark Kent, or as Lois keeps calling him, Smallville is a man with black hair, usually a little messy, black, square glasses and a slouch despite his buff physique. Jimmy Olsen described him to me in some better detail. I can expect him to look nervous, as he comes from a small town and never got used to the city crowds. He’ll probably overdress, but not out of a sense of superiority, but in a nervous way where he feels the need to impress. Yes, he slouches, but it doesn’t come off as lazy, more insecure. His hair will be messy, but not so messy as to be unkempt. It’s curley more than anything. And blue eyes, Jimmy mentions those would be striking. 

And there is just such a man fitting that description in the back of the cafe, at a small table, nervously looking outside the cafe wall to ceiling windows. Hopefully he’s looking for me. He does have the curly black hair, the big glasses, and the slouch. He curls up in his seat like he’s scared of inconveniencing someone by taking up too much space. He’s wearing a nice sweater, some khaki slacks, and office shoes. And he is very buff. Jimmy said he was from a small town right? Bet he’s a farm boy, a natural buffness gained from lifting hay or something like that. 

I approach him with an easy smile, and stand by his table. “Hey, Clark Kent, right?” I ask, and his eyes jerk to me quickly. Wow, those are blue. Cute too. “Oh- Uh, yes. I’m Clark Kent – you just said that. Um - Alexandra Ogden?” He nervously stutters, going to adjust his glasses on his face despite them not being out of place. I give him a comforting smile. I by no means think I look bad, in fact I think I look very good, but I didn’t know I looked so good as to make him this nervous. At least, I hope it’s good looks that’s making him nervous. Hate for it to be anything else, except maybe natural disposition. Then it’s just neutral. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out. I hope you weren’t waiting long?” I ask, and Clark shakes his head negatively. “No, no, I just got here. Don’t worry. Do you want to get something?” That’s good, means I didn’t make a bad impression by being tardy. And he waited for me before going to get something to eat! Ain’t that sweet. I nod. “Yeah, join me?” I ask. “Yes!” Clark exclaims, perhaps a little louder than he meant, and scrambles out of his seat. Oh, this is adorable. This man towers over me, even with a slouch, and he’s acting like the most nervous-excited puppy I have ever seen. 

He follows me eagerly into line, standing a little behind me instead of just beside me. I frown a little at that, but I do understand. This cafe is small, there isn’t a lot of room. Speaking of little room, the line is already long, and more people start to pour in through the front door. That welcome bell has not stopped jingling. “Wow, it got crowded fast.” I comment, and Clark moves a little closer to me to save space. 

“Very fast. I’m starting to think the whole date will be spent in this line.” He answers, and he’s not wrong. As I mentioned, the line is already long, and moving very slowly. We might be here a while. “In that case, how was your day?” I ask. Let’s not let the time go to waste, right? “Busy, yours?” Clark asks, and that’s a short answer, isn’t it? I chance a glance back and see he’s looking at the crowd around us nervously. Olsen did say he wasn’t used to city crowds, or maybe given how long he’s been here, he just doesn’t like them. “Likewise. Any interesting stories?” I prompt, trying to get his mind off the crowd. 

“A couple, one intrigue into how the Crime Families of Metropolis are exploiting the restaurant scene, but Lois Lane snatched that one up, and another that I got on LexCorp. General PR things, really.” Clark seems to clock in that the date is going now, and engages readily. His job sounds interesting, and he seems knowledgeable about it. “Were you looking forward to the crime story?” I respond. “What reporter isn’t? But I have to admit, I think Lois will do a better job than I would have.” I see Clark shrug out of the corner of my eye, and I smile. Humble, not bad. 

“I’d say don’t sell yourself short, but I do have to stick to my best friend.” I shrug as well. What can I say, I have loyalty. Clark chuckles a little, which makes me smile more. Good to know he didn’t take offence. “I don’t blame you. You know, Lois didn’t mention what you did for work?” Clark asks the next question, and I toy with my bottom lip for a moment before I answer. This is where the last date went down hill. “I’m a cleaner.” I hesitantly say. 

But Clark doesn’t immediately change the topic or dismiss me, he asks a follow-up instead. “For like someone specific? Or freelance?” His tone is curious and genuine. “Freelance.” I answer. “Any difficult jobs lately?” Clark questions further, and I feel some flutters in my stomach from how well this is going. He’s not a snob about my job at least! One point for the small town boy. “They’re all a little hard, but I did have a party to clean up after this past weekend. Tell you what, if you ever plan a party in your beige-themed house – stick to white wine, not red.” I expound. That was a hard job, and my client was absolutely a snob. 

“Sheesh. I hope you got tipped nicely for that one.” Clark empathizes with me, and I nod as well. “Would it surprise you if I said I didn’t?” I chuckle a little. It’s been long enough and is more funny now than it was annoying and rude then. She was an ass. “Sadly, no. I don’t think your career is one that’s often appreciated these days, is it?” Clark sighs in sympathy. I snort a little though, in a humorous way. “These days? Please, point to the decade where they were.” I prod. 

“Good point. But forgive me for the assumption – you look like you're doing well for yourself?” Clark points out, and I have to say, he’s not exactly wrong. I’ve got several regular clients, and enough supplies that it’s not digging into my budget all the time like it did in the early days. I even have my own apartment, which while small is debt free. “That sounds like a compliment to me. But indulge me, what gave it away?” I query, and Clark astutely assumes that – “You don’t sound mad that your occupation is underappreciated, just annoyed.”

I used to get so angry, back when I was starting my business. It was hard at the start, and it still is now, although in different ways. I used to get mad at everything, from my clients, my career, myself, and the world in general. But I’ve done well for myself, and I suppose that gives me some privilege, doesn’t it? I’m in a place where I don’t have to be angry at the world, that’s something. “I think I am mad, on principle, but you’re not wrong I’m more annoyed about not getting tipped than pissed. Lucky me, really.” I eventually say after a moment. 

“Something tells me luck has nothing to do with it.” Clark states, and isn’t that curious. What does he mean? “Hm?” I question back with a hum. Clark explains himself. “You’re friends with Lois Lane, and something tells me she was hard to keep up with in High School. You’d need to be proactive for that, so I think you’re probably a very hard worker, and your success is a credit to that.” I blush a little at his take, and suddenly I’m glad he chose to stand behind me instead of beside, so that I can have that little moment to myself. It’s nice to be appreciated, isn’t it? Still, I shan’t let a chance to tease go. 

 “Is this flattery?” I ask with a smile in my voice, and a chipper little tilt of the head. I hear Clark chuckle quickly again. “Journalistic observation. Can’t help it when I meet someone interesting.” He jokes back, and I turn to look at him with a cheery smile. “I’m interesting, am I?” His smile is adorable, actually, it’s adorkable. The way his grin is comforting, to how his glasses sit, to the way his hair lays. Oh, I like this view. 

“Among other things.” Clark replies, that dorky smile still on his face. I truly turn my whole body to face him now, ready to continue this. “Well, I – hey, careful!” I try to start, but someone seems to take me turning around as a sign for them to skip the line. They shove in between me and the person that was in front of me, throwing an elbow into my back. I tip forward, but luckily Clark is close and catches me easily. 

“Woah there. I got ya’. It’s really getting crowded in here now.” Clark catches me by my elbows, and helps me right myself without letting go. I look around, and he’s very correct. I glare at the person who cut in line, but they don’t spare me a glance, and stoutly ignore me. “Too crowded. And we’ve barely moved in line.” I observe, and Clark nods back. “Yeah, I think our coffee is going to take a while, huh?” My lips form a thin line as I think about it. Yeah, it might even take more than a while. 

“Probably. Unless we try somewhere else?” I propose. “If you’re okay with it, so am I.” Clark looks me in the eye as I respond, and I stare back with a confident smile. I like him. “Great, let's get out of here and get some room to breathe.” We quickly shimmy out of the line, and Clark holds my hand as he uses his height and broad shoulders to wiggle us some room to move. We manage to squeeze out the door of the cafe despite having to do it sideways to pass the guy standing in it. We quickly walk to the corner of the block to escape the line that is trailing out of the cafe and onto the sidewalk. 

“Phew – I am happy to be out of there. Sorry about this.” Clark seems to relax and stretch out now in the open air. His shoulders settle and untense, and he almost stops slouching. Almost. I shake my head. “You can’t control it, or have known, don’t sweat it. Plus, you’re a buff guy, I imagine you were more crowded in there than I was.” He chuckles nervously, but turns to me with a sly grin. 

“Is this flattery I hear?” He asks, a smirk in his voice, and I laugh out loud. Good humor too! “Only altruistic observation. It was natural, really.” I quip back, and he smiles with me. “I certainly don’t mind it.” His gaze is kind as he stares down at me, and I can’t help but return it. Jimmy wasn’t kidding when he said his eyes were striking. Call me cheesy if you must, but I wouldn’t mind getting lost in them. “So, as a reporter I imagine you’re very familiar with Metropolis?” I start. 

Clark gives me a curious look, but does respond in kind to my odd question. “Comes with the territory, even if I only moved here for my career.” I smile back at him to reassure him as he answers. “Then would that familiarity happen to give you knowledge of other good cafes around here?” Clark smiles when he catches on to my plan. Although he still looks a little nervous. He rubs the back of his neck slightly. 

“It might, if the crowds from before haven’t already ruined this. But with the way this conversation has been going, am I wrong in assuming it hasn’t?” Clark asks in the most sincere voice I have ever heard. I wonder what makes a man like him nervous. He’s so tall, and such a big man. Yet he slouches to not inconvenience others, he’s nervous in the face of little old me. He’s something, I just can’t put my finger on it at the moment. But I’d like to find out. 

 “No, you’re dead on. It hasn’t ruined it all, only made it more interesting. Among other things.” I day as I grin up at him. He grins back, and holds out his hand. I hold it, and it’s more than nice. His hand is bigger than mine, warmer too. Calloused but not uncomfortable, and he holds my hand so gently. “Then I absolutely know another cafe.” I squeeze his hand excitedly. “Lead on then, few things could ruin this date now.” 

He laughs a little with joy, and his smile is starting to become addictive. He tugs me around the block, assuredly guiding me to another cafe. “Great. Com'n, this way –” He starts to say, but is cut off as the sky dumps a bucket of water on us. For fucks sake, it’s really raining now. There wasn’t even a sprinkle in warning! Just some grey clouds, and now it’s pouring. “I may have jinxed it.” I say, and yelp a little when Clark starts to tug me and jog towards something. 

“Or spoken too soon– this way!” Clark calls back, and he runs under the cover of a bus stop. Nobody else is in it, thankfully, and we both start to wipe the water off our faces and ring it out of our hair. Clark wipes the water off his glasses, and I shiver from the temperature. “God! Metropolis rain is so cold! You never get used to it.” I say, trying to keep the mood a little light in the face of this downpour. Clark nods. “Agreed! I don’t think we should risk running to the cafe, we’re already wet enough.” 

I frown at that, because it sounds like we don’t have a back up. I don’t want this date to end yet, it was going so well! “What about our date? Unless you want to have it at the bus stop.” I ask, and Clark frowns as well. He looks contemplative, and takes a moment to answer. “I think we’ll have to take a raincheck. Literally. The bus will come, do you live along one of the routes?” He says sheepishly. Damn, and this was going so well. 

“Yeah I do, you?” I answer defeatedly. Clark shakes his head. “Sadly not, but it’s alright, I’ll wait here for the rain to end.” What? I’m not going to just leave him in the rain, that’d be a dick move. And he’s been really good, and this has been an amazing date so far. We’re getting along great. I don’t want to ruin it by leaving him to soak in the cold. “I’d feel like an asshole if I just left you while I went home. You’ve been really nice, Clark.” 

Clark seems to blush a little, and puts his glasses back on his face. He’s back to that nervous stature, rubbing the back of his neck again as he asks – “Well, how about we try to go on another date? Another day?” I frown. I’m not opposed to another date, but – “That won’t keep you warm and dry.” I argue. Clark seems to blush more, and I don’t know what for until he argues back – “You never know, it might. I hear phone numbers from pretty blondes keep guys and gals alike very warm.” 

I feel my own cheeks flush, and with a small smile I tease back. “Is this flattery?” Clark, instead of continuing the teasing tone, responds seriously and with a smile. “Yes.” I think I’ll just have to trust him. Trust I’m not giving him a cold, or leaving him out to hang in this weather. I sigh, but I’m still grinning. “Alright, Clark Kent, you’ve got yourself another date.” Clark smiles brightly at me, holding my hands for a moment, squeezing them. “And your number?” He asks. 

I reach into my purse, grab a pen and loose but unused napkin, and jot my number down on it. I hand it over happily. “Here.” He takes it and tucks it into his wallet, probably one of the only places it’ll stay dry. I frown a little at the reminder I’m leaving him in the rain. Clark looks up for a second, and then quickly looks back to me. “Thank you, I think the bus is almost here.” I look around, and don’t see the bus. 

“How can you tell – well would you look at that, right on the dot.” I start to ask, but I interrupt myself as I see the bus turn the corner onto our street and slowly approach the bus stop. “It was just a feeling.” Clark explains. “A good one. Thank you for the date, Clark, despite the ending I very much enjoyed it.” I respond, and smile at Clark again as the bus comes to a stop. 

“Me too. Get home safe!” Clark calls back to me with a smile and a wave as I get on the bus. I turn around to wave back through the closing doors. “You too, and don’t forget to call or text me!” I remind him, and I just hear Clark’s response as the doors close between us. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” I sit in the back of the bus, and forlornly watch as Clark becomes a smaller and smaller speck in the distance. It’s really hard to see him through this rain. But as soon as I lose sight of him, I slump in my seat and turn back to look in the direction my seat is facing. 

I really like him, I think it was a good date, despite all the little things. But those were environmental things, not problems with Clark himself. I hope he texts me, and does take me on a second date. I’d really like to go. 

— Batman Ticket —

_Genevieve Dalton POV _

Most people like to chant ‘Eat the Rich!’, but today my job is to feed them. I’m not normally a cook for these kinds of high-scale events, but I am well connected within my field, and this is a private dinner. Some old rich friends or something are having a dinner together, and my friend was hired to be their private chef for the night. I understand why, he does cook fancy things. But he also has a lot of anxiety about these things, and was scared to cook alone. 

So he called me. I’m also a private chef, but nowhere near as bougie as he is. But I can be his sous chef for the night, handle the dishes and prep as such. It’ll be fine, really. I don’t let him know that I’m also a little nervous, because who wouldn’t be? I mean, it’s not like they can tank my ratings, I already usually work at a diner. They could tank Jeffery though, and I don’t want that to happen. So there is some pressure. 

But I’m a cook, I can handle it. I know I can, for Jeffrey. Even if one of the guests is the Prince of Gotham. 

— Break Line —

_ Bruce Wayne POV _

I’ve never hated Julie Madison, but I’ve never been fond of her in the way she wanted. I understand where she’s coming from, social pressure as well as pressure at home that pushes her to remain in the circle of the Gothamite elites. But it's not where she wants to be, deep down. She doesn’t quite believe in the imperialistic norm of the socialites, and I think she would much rather focus on developing a career instead of furthering her family's legacy of inherited wealth. 

I don’t know if it’s for moral reasons or because her passion for acting outweighs the silver spoon she’s been force-fed all her life. I don’t think I should be the one to point this out to her, though. It’ll mean so much more and stick so much harder if she figures it out for herself. I do hope she does though, it’ll do her a lot of good. 

A lot more good than this farce of a dinner. The food is good, the wine is perfect, and the atmosphere is as romantic as you’d expect it to be. But neither am I interested in her, or her in me. I wouldn’t hate a one-night stand, but I know it wouldn’t mean to her what it means to me. And she’d hate it. She doesn’t actually want me, it’s just the expectation her parents and friends are forcing on her. Gothams golden girl and Gothams Dark Prince would make quite the pair, if in name only. 

Her make-up is immaculate, but her smile is forced. Mine is as well, but for her own sanity I hope she doesn’t notice. This mask is easy for me to wear, I’ve practiced. But Julie just got back from a movie shoot, and it’s been a while since she’s had to put on her porcelain mask of perfection for Gotham. She’s trying very hard to make this work, and if we were anyone else I would be falling head over heels right now. 

But we’re not anyone else, and I’ve known her since High-school. I was admittedly not the nicest back then, but she was kind to me. I owe it to her to show the same kindness back. Neither of us want to be here, but this dinner will likely tide her parents overbearing attitude for a bit. It’s the least I can do for her. Still, this is dragging on. I should end this soon, as politely as I can. 

And I am saved by the bell, specifically the alarm bell. I feel my phone vibrate three times in my back pocket, and I know that is the tell I set for a bank robbery. As Julie goes to pour more wine I sneak a quick glance at said phone to confirm. There's a robbery at the First National Bank of Gotham, no rouges spotted. I should go handle it, but I also need to make sure Julie doesn’t feel slighted. Bathroom, Wayne Enterprise Emergency, Apology text. It’s a quick plan, but it will have to do. 

“If you’ll excuse me for a second, Julie, I’ll be back shortly.” I say with practiced grace and an easy smirk. Julie looks a little caught off guard as I stand, but she smiles pleasantly. “Of course, Bruce. I won’t be going anywhere.” I internally wince at that, but still smile back and button the front of my seat as I leave her dining table and make my way out of the dining room. Instead of turning right towards the bathrooms I turn left to make my way out through the kitchen. 

If I remember the layout of her penthouse correctly there’s a window to the fire escape there, which will lead down into an obscure alleyway. I send the location to the Batcomputer which then starts to self-drive the Batmobile to said alley. Luckily Julie lives on the edge of the city, it won’t be long. By the time I make it to the alley the car will be there and ready, my suit in the back to change into. 

I’m apparently a little too confident in my plan that I fail to notice someone in the kitchen as I enter until they ask – “Can I help you sir?” I hold back a startled flinch and immediately look up to assess the situation. It’s just one other person in the kitchen with me, a Ginger woman with her hair pulled back in a bun. She’s in normal clothes with an apron over it, and yellow plastic gloves to protect her hands as she scrubs dishes. Ah, one of the hired chefs. 

I had thought since Julie had hired private chefs for the night, and we had already just finished dinner, they would be gone by now. Shit. Alright, new plan, play nice, pretend I’m an asshole abandoning Julie, and look like going out the window is normal Playboy Nepo-baby behavior. I give the cook my most charming smirk, and put the flirting on thick. 

“Absolutely Sweetheart, I wanted to thank the girl who just made one of the most amazing meals I’ve ever had.” I say, and the woman blushes furiously, looking caught off guard. Her eyes frantically look to another door, but not the one I came from or the one she used to deliver the food to us. I hadn’t paid much attention to her then. But it’s a different door, are there more people? 

“I - I - Thank you sir, but I’m not the cook - tonight at least - Jeffery made your meal. He deserves your compliments.” So there is at least one more. He must be taking a break on the other side of the door. If I move this along quickly enough I won’t have to talk to or excuse myself from him either. I turn the charm up as I turn to look at the woman again. 

“Well, pass on my compliments for me, but I have to admit, while the meal was good, it didn’t look quite as good as you do. May I know your name?” I ask, leaning a hand against the kitchen island. The woman's face is a mess of red flush, which I have to admit is very charming, and she stutters out – “Gen – Genevieve Dalton, sir. You - sorry -” I laugh a little to interrupt her, and wave off her stumbling. “Bruce Wayne, but I bet you just remembered that.” 

She shyly nods, and I continue to smile. “Genevieve, a beautiful name. It suits you. You wouldn’t be willing to part with your number, would you?” It’s a little far, but I need to get this over quickly. There is an active robbery going on. She looks caught off guard, and this time her eyes do flicker to the door that leads to Julie. Good, think I’m an asshole, wave me off, and I will be out of her quickly. The Batmobile must almost be here by now. “Reunion not going well?” Is what she asks instead, and what? 

“What?” I ask a little dumbly, because what reunion is she talking about? Genevieve looks nervous as she answers – “The Highschool reunion, sir? Ms. Madison said this was a reunion dinner.” Ah, maybe I didn’t give Julie enough credit. But I hit the nail on the head when I said that she doesn’t want to date me. If she did she would have bragged about it to the cooks, but instead she misnamed the dinner on purpose. I can’t fault her for that, but I do now have to roll with the punches. My smile is a little strained as I quip back –

“Have you ever had a fun reunion? It’s always people who have mellowed out since high-school, and I did not come to talk taxes. So, number?” I rush, and Genevieve fumbles for a second to take off her gloves and write her number on a recipe card before handing it to me. I tuck into my breast pocket, and begin to trudge towards the window to make my escape, already planning my next line, when Genevieve stops my in my tracks by asking – 

“If I may ask, sir, what did you want my number for?” I turn to look at her slowly. Is she - is she joking? What does she think I want her number for? Still, play stupid games, win stupid prizes, and I should have just taken the damn elevator. So I plaster on an amused smile, and hit her with “So I can take you on a date of course.” Genevieve looks incredibly surprised, and very embarrassed, as her hands clasp together and squeeze in surprise. “Me?” She asks in a high pitched voice, and I have to chuckle at that. She’s dense, but she’s cute. 

“Do boys usually ask for your number for other reasons?” I jest, and she shakes her head. “Sorry sir, I just thought you were unhappy with my service or something and wanted to know who to call to complain to or something.” That’s a low opinion, although whether it's of myself or her I’m unsure. I shake my head negatively though, and placate her. “No, no, nothing like that. You were perfect. And call me Bruce, I will be taking you on a date after all, as long as you're interested.” 

She pauses for a moment, thinking it over, before looking me in the eyes and nodding. “I would like that, I think.” She responds. I give her an award winning smile, and say “Then I’ll text you the details. Now you’ve been wonderful, Darling, but I do need to leave before Julie notices I’m not in the bathroom.” And with that I turn towards the window. “So you're taking the window?” Genevieve asks incredulously. I shoot her a smirk over my shoulder as I open the window and climb out. 

“She’d notice the front door! And I’d hate to be rude.” I call back, and Genevieve comes closer to watch as I make my way down the fire escape. “And this isn’t?” She asks. “She’ll find it more amusing this way, and besides she’ll expect this of me.” I answer, slowly climbing down so as to not look like I do this every night. Not even a playboy is escaping by window every night. When I look up, Genevieve is smiling at me with a raised eyebrow. “Do this often, then?” She asks teasingly. I actually give her a genuine smile back, she looks better when not so nervous. 

“I did back in highschool. Do me a favour?” I ask. Genevieve laughs a little, but nods back at me. “Don’t tell her it was the kitchen window?” I say, covering my tracks. Genevieve smiles down at me. “I won’t.” She promises, and goes back into the kitchen and closes the window after her. Once I’m sure she’s not looking, I scale down the fire escape with much more practice and speed than Bruce Wayne is known for. The Batmobile is right where I directed it to, and I enter quickly. 

I direct it to drive to the robbery as I get changed, and I call Alfred while I’m at it. “Yes, Master Bruce?” Pennyworth's voice comes through the comms clear as day. “Text Julie Madison an apology, something came up at Wayne Enterprises and needed my immediate attention. I won’t be coming back.” I say. I can almost envision Alfred’s disapproving gaze. “I thought you were on a date, sir?” He prods. “No, turns out it was a reunion. But I do have a date, reserve a table at a nice restaurant in the next few days.” I order. “I thought you weren’t interested in Julie, sir?” Alfred asks. “It’s not with Julie.” I say, and take control of the Batmobile, speeding it down the streets of Gotham. “Batman out.” I say, ending the line before Alfred can respond. 

I’ll deal with that after the robbery, and after patrol. Whenever I get home.

— Flash Ticket —

_ Barry Allen POV _

My work as a forensic Detective is just as important to me as my work as the Flash. I think I wasn’t already working to fight crime, doing it with my powers wouldn’t have come as naturally to me. So I do take my work seriously, no matter what others say. But the thing about work is that it comes with colleagues. The Flash doesn’t really have colleagues, at least I haven’t run into any yet. My work for the Central City Crime Lab though? That comes with plenty of colleagues, colleagues who love to rag on me. 

“Barry, I saw you flirt with Kristen when she first got here, and if that’s how you flirt with everyone – no wonder you never get the girl.” James Forrest teases me as we walk back from the local coffee shop, our arms full of different drinks for the office. “Hey! That flirting was good! She just wasn’t interested! That doesn’t mean my flirting was bad!” I defend myself hotly, managing to balance the two full drink carriers I’m holding as I turn to glare at him slightly. James just laughs. 

“Nah Man, it was so bad. Your lines were so cheesy! No way that ever works.” He doubles down, looking smug. I grumble a little. “It totally works.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Has it? Has it really?” I pout a little, because as much as I hate it, he’s not wholly wrong. I haven’t gotten a date yet from a single girl I’ve asked. Hell, I don’t even get dates as the Flash! I know it’d be a terrible idea and all, but it doesn’t matter, because even as a hero I can’t seem to pull it off. Is it the flirting style that’s the problem? Or is it just me? 

As I think this I spot someone in the park, behind James. A gorgeous brunette, sitting alone at a park bench, just eating a sandwich and reading a newspaper. This is my chance! I’ll show him that I can flirt. “Hold this. Watch. I got this!” I say, and put my two drink carriers on top of his. “Hey!” James exclaims, struggling to balance all of the drinks, but I don’t pay him any mind and confidently stride towards the girl. 

It’s gonna work this time. 

— Break Line —

_ Barry Allen POV _

I run my hand through my hair as I approach the woman on the bench. She looks focused on her newspaper, but not deaf to the world. She’s dressed professionally, but I don’t see a ring. So I’m not homewrecking, hopefully. She finishes the sandwich in the time it takes me to walk over. I stop about a foot or two away from, I don’t want to crowd her like an asshole or something. 

“Hey beautiful, what’s your name?” I say, making sure I’m smiling and not slouching. She looks up, looking a little confused and wary. She eyes me up and down, spares a glance around to see that I’m not talking to anyone else, before looking back up at me. “Oh, uh… Charlotte?” She says slowly, and I smirk. I have just the line for this. “No surname? That’s fine, my names’ Barry Allen, and I wouldn’t mind lending you mine.” 

She keeps looking at me with those pretty green eyes, and stumbles for a moment - “Wha - you -” until she cuts herself off by laughing out loud. Her eyes close with the laugh a little, and she brings her hand up to cover her mouth, letting her newspaper fall to her lap. I wilt at her reaction. “Aw, it’s not that bad is it?” I say, my tone just short of a whine. I thought I had this. 

She responds through chuckles. “Depends how much you meant it. Seriously? So bad - but ironically? That was so good -” I perk up with a – “Really?” Hey, I’ll take it. She may think it's funny, but she doesn’t hate it. Still laughing, Charlotte manages to answer me with – “Yes!” With that, I slide into the spot beside her on the bench. I can and will do this, I can woo her. 

I slip my arm on the back of the bench, resting it behind her but not touching. I haven’t asked if she’s okay with that yet. “Want another?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrow for comedic effect. Charlotte gives me a blinding smile, her eyes shining with mirth. I could get lost in those eyes, and I wouldn’t mind. “If it’s as funny as the last one? Absolutely!” God, you can hear her smile in her voice, it’s contagious. 

“Did you just come out of the oven?” I eagerly ask. “Pft -  no.” Charlotte responds. “Damn! Then we better call the fire department, because you're smoking hot!” And I emphasize the end with an exaggerated wink. Charlotte begins to laugh out loud again, and I haven’t heard a better sound in my life. I want to keep hearing it, so I keep going. “I’m learning about important dates in history, want to be one of them?” 

At this point Charlotte fully lets go of her newspaper, and it slips off her lap, and she holds onto her side and the seat of the bench to keep from falling over in laughter. I push on, this is great. “Are you a flower? Because I wanna’ Bee with you forever!” Charlotte's head tilts back as she laughs, and I can’t help but feel some laughter bubble up in me. This is fun, this is amazing, this is working. 

 “Call me mister Flintstone, ‘Cause I can –” Charlotte holds her hand up and I stop talking, but her face is still smiling. “Stop! Stop! I’m gonna laugh myself to death!” She says, and I start to laugh at myself. I can’t say my flirting has ever gotten this reaction before, but I don’t hate it. In fact, I like it a lot. Charlotte wipes a tear from her eye as she rights herself, a few breathy laughs escaping her as she calms down. My own giggles come to a slow stop as well, and we both just bask in the joyful energy of the moment for a second. 

Charlotte turns to me with a smile on her pretty face, her lips quirking in amusement. “Barry Allen, you are a riot. It’s Eakins by the way.” Eakins? What? “Huh?” I end up saying, and my confusion must be very apparent on my face because Charlotte can’t help but giggle at it. “My last name, it’s Eakins.” She explains once she stops giggling. I exaggerate a pout on my face. 

“Aw, not Allen?” I joke, and Charlotte laughs again. I like making her laugh. “You’re funny, but I need more than pick-up lines to convince me.” She teases. I give her my best smile, which at this point I don’t even need to try, she just makes me smile. “But you’re open to being convinced?” I ask. 

“I just nearly fell off this bench laughing, and you think I’m not?” Charlotte leans forward, her voice still happy, but there is a sweeter tone behind what she just said. Am I about to get a date? I think I am. “Doesn’t hurt to be sure, so, how about –” I’m cut off by the sound of a phone alarm coming from Charlotte's back pocket. Charlotte looks panicked for a second as she pulls out her phone, and I watch her turn off a 12:45 pm alarm, and then look at me with a sad and sorry expression. 

“Shoot, sorry, I gotta go. This is my lunch break, and that means it’s over.” She says sheepishly, and stands up, putting her phone in her purse and shouldering it. She reaches down for her newspaper, and I scramble to hold onto her newspaper as well as she straightens. This was going well! “Wait! Can I have your number before you go?” It’s now or never it seems. 

“Planning on convincing me?” Charlotte asks, her smile coming back. I smile back. “I’d like to try.” I say, hoping my sincerity comes across in my tone. Charlotte bites her bottom lip in thought for a second, before letting go of the newspaper for the second to take out a business card and hand it to me. “Alright, here. Text me sometime, and I’ll see if I can make some time. Sell me on the surname and all that.” She says, and we trade the newspaper for the card. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring a powerpoint.” I say, and it makes Charlotte laugh. I like doing that. “Thanks for making me laugh, at least. Bye!” She turns and walks away, presumably in the direction of her work. “Anytime!” I call, and I tear my gaze away from her retreating form to examine the card she gave me. It’s a business card. Charlotte Eakins, Star Labs, Receptionist, and her number and email. Oh yeah, she was definitely dressed professionally. 

James approaches me not a moment later, setting the miraculously still unspilled drinks on the bench beside me. He looks disgruntled, probably because I left him holding so much stuff, and also watches Charlotte reach the end of the park, glance back, and then cross the street. I wave at her back, but she's already turned around. 

“So? How’d you fuck that up?” James asks. I wave the card in front of his face. “I didn’t! It worked! I’ve got a date!” And man, I am excited for it. I can already tell, it’s going to be amazing. James balks at my proof. “What the fuck? No way –” He exclaims, but I hold my hand in front of his face as I tuck her card safely away in my coat pocket. “Talk to the hand, James, talk to the hand. My flirting rocks.” Because guess what, I got the girl. I got a date. 

---

Hey! I'm going to continue this story on Ao3 if you want to read more!

Captain America & Superman

You know how when Marvel is compared to DC people say that Captain America and Superman are synonymous? Or Iron Man and Batman are? I would like to propose that we switch those. I don't think Captain America and Superman are good comparisons.

Argument number 1 : Captain America is a team player, Superman is not. One of Superman character flaws, something he has to overcome, is that he thinks he can or should protect the world alone. He can lift it alone, and so he should. He struggles with control because when things are outside of his control he feels responsible when they go wrong. He feels he should be able to protect everything, because he has the power, but as only one man he often fails in the scope of it. He may be able to solve every problem, but he can't see every problem. One of the first thing any adaption of the Justice League origin story has to overcome is Superman trying to fight the bad guy alone. Captain America is the literal opposite of that. He is the most team player team player, and when he can take a mission with a team he does. He doesn't shy away or panic at not being able to control every problem or fix every problem, he acts calmly under pressure. He works on teams.

Argument number 2 : Superman is the team leader, Captain America is not. Superman, at least later on in stories (And I don't mean like later editions, but just later on in the stories, like after justice league formations), is genuinely the leader of the Justice League. He calls people together, he addresses issues. Batman is nominally the leader as well, as in he calls attention to problems and offers solutions, but it's Superman who often makes the final calls. Captain American can not be said to often make the final call. He can call orders in combat, and maybe lead missions, but it's either Shield or his fellow Avengers who call missions. In fact, most of the Avengers can be the leader at different times, depending on the situation. Captain American and Iron Man are the leaders of the Avengers in equal measure.

Argument number 3 : Superman's No-kill rule, and Captain America's willingness to kill. I think this relates to Superman's feelings that only Superman can keep Superman in check. And he's not wrong, which means if Superman doesn't have hard morals, then he doesn't get to be Superman. Captain America doesn't have those issues. Captain America was taught combat in war, and made his morals there too. He has mercy, don't forget that, but he also doesn't see killing as the be all end all of morality.

Counter Argument number 1 : Both Superman and Captain America deal with the narrative question of "Are they necessary?" And the conclusion is that they aren't. Superman can retire, so can Captain America. They aren't necessary for the world to go on. But they have inspired people who often carry on their legacy. Superman has inspired plenty of the Justice League to be better heroes, and plenty of Super-boys who came after. Captain America also inspired heroes, and plenty of people who try to take up the mantel after he's gone. And their success depend on how much they understand themselves and what they stand for, and overcome who Superman and Captain America were.

Counter Argument number 2 : Clark Kent and Steve Rogers are very similar. Both are small town guys who view themselves as Clark Kent and Steve Rogers first, and Superman and Captain America second. I think their civilian identities are good comparisons.

Secondary Arguments 1 : I think Iron Man and Superman have more similar narratives. Both have these sense that their skills and powers are dangerous and they need to be their own moral compass. Both are scared of their own powers in a way. Stark is scared of his tech being misused and also running from his weapons dealer past. I've already explained Superman's fear. I know that Iron Man isn't exactly no-kill but he's one of the guys who I could see having that rule.

Secondary Arguments 2 : I think Batman and Captain America have similar fighting styles and approaches to missions. I don't think they'd agree or have similar narratives but I think they'd fight side by side well.

Closing thoughts : I love all four of these characters and I think all have incredibly intricate and interesting narratives, and so I think comparing them also leads to interesting discussions. Ultimately I think that their worlds are different to find exact comparisons, but it's still a fun draw to make. What are your thoughts?

the issue is I’m thinking about all of them

Steve & Yusuf

I would like to propose a buddy comedy action flick with Steve Nedoroscik and Yusuf Dikec go on a road trip to retrieve Yusuf’s dog. There are high octane chase scenes, vaulting over obstacles, shootouts, and somehow friendship. Yusuf drives, Steve sleeps. Cameos from Anthony Ammirati and more. I just want to see more of them after the Olympics.

[ Twst oc's ] for this AU these are the characters that are made so far they're inspired/based of-

(Again this AU is in the next 4 or 5 yrs later so most twst og characters are somehow unknown to them.)

i made this post ,cause most dm's are just the same questions who's who are based off😌

again i appreciate ,any enjoy the characters so far as i enjoy drawing making this au ahaha! yes my fav storyline is Vert.

quiet Cassandra

Dad Talks. EP. 1 | Ethical Economics AKA Humanity vs. Capitalism

The Context - Discussion with friend over text

Friend : We still put money before people. 

Me : But as humanity grows we’re more knowledgeable now, and we’ll catch people and hold them accountable for it. 

Friend : Literally the opposite has happened. 

Me : I refuse to give up on the good of humanity. 

Friend : Oh, Humanity is good. Capitalism is evil. 

The Discussion with Dad - Also over text, and prompted by me presenting the above discussion and my thoughts on it. 

Me : Greed is evil, economy is a neutral entity that is wielded. It is one man’s greed that sours it. 

Well this poses an interesting question.

Can a concept, which due to the nature of human history, is created by man be neutral? If it is created by humans, who are intrinsically biased and lean forwards either positive or negative questions, then can it truly be neutral? 

Can I claim that something man made is neutral when I proclaim man is good but inherently fallible?

Dad : Sounds like you are doing fine. You pose the more interesting question. Capitalism, and even the idea of economics, are man-made creations. But not necessarily in the way a building or an invention is, or.a book or painting.

Economics comes from the idea that humans require, or desire, certain things to survive, and take action to acquire those things. As the types and numbers of things fluctuate, as well as how many humans and there are and how those things are produced, certain patterns of behavior emerge that seem to be driven by the numerous variable. Hence we study economics as a sort of science - it seems to operate under certain principles that can be deduced by observation and testing. It’s sort of like anthropology or sociology, we are trying to understand how humans have developed or how they will respond.

Me : So in considering it’s study being a science, can we presume we should be neutral in judging its patterns and more so directing moral judgements on those who use the properties of economics to act?

Dad : Capitalism is at, its heart, a theory of economics. One might even say it is the most basic and fundamental theory of how economics works. But it makes assumptions about how people respond to their economic stimuli and their motives. The primary assumption is that people will act to maximize their things. (Keep in mind that I am not an economist and that there is a great deal of literature on this topic - it has been studied a lot.)

There are other theories that predict that people and societies react differently. Capitalism tends to be more individualistic. Socialism and communism more focused on the wellness of the group.

Me : So does capitalism assume greed or does capitalism encourage greed?

Dad : I think you can approach any of those theories with a certain neutrality; the theories themselves are neither good nor evil. How people apply those theories can be approached from an ethical standpoint.

Me : Fair.

Dad : Does capitalism assume greed or encourage greed? Interesting question. Probably both, but even greed might not be the right word.

Then the question is what is the word that capitalism works off of.

Well, the question overall is interesting because in economics it is difficult to separate economic theory from an economic system. That is precisely because humans are involved. It is a bit like Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle or Schrodinger’s Cat - you can’t know the outcome or state of the system unless you act to measure it, but your act of measuring it determines the state of the system.

In economics, how one believes the system works depends partly on how one believes humans act or should act, and humans can work in different ways.

Me : Damn.

This leaves me and my friend very much at odds because I believe we think inherently differently on the way humans work. I think we both find humans to be naturally good, but I more easily overlook the times human do bad to embrace the times human do good while they are the reverse.

I will lean towards capitalism because I like the individualistic approach while still having great faith that more times than not humans will do good.

Dad : You will find there are several different version of capitalism as an economic and political ideology.

Me : But my friend leans towards socialism because they have seen too many times that humanity can be bad and the system abused, so an economic plan for the welfare of all appeals more to them because they believe the opportunity for bad is inherently tempting.

It worries me that I may only find capitalism appealing because I think I myself will work well in it, or perhaps that is my privilege that leads me to favor capitalism. 

Dad : Humans are involved in all of these systems. There are no robots or divine forces that will be kind to everyone if only we let them.

Socialism relies on good governance to work. It can be as poorly applied as capitalism.

Me : True.

Dad : Capitalism often maximizes freedom of the individual, which allows individuals to flourish more than other systems, but also allows individuals fail more than other systems. It can also lead to unhealthy balances of power or wealth that can twist the system into actually being intrinsically unfair. This is likely because capitalism is a near perfect theory in an ‘unbounded’ system (resources and people and space are limitless), but when applied more practically to the bounded systems we actually live in it needs some regulation and constraint. (My own personal theory - might be complete B.S.)

Me : Don’t sell yourself too short, it’s the observation of peers that make a theory sound.

--- 

Quote of the Day : From the Classic Doctor Who Series, in the final episode of the Castrovalva. 

The Master, to the people he has created - “You do not have the will to do it.” 

The People he made, responds with - “You may have made us, Man of Evil, but we are free.” 

*Proceeds to swing on a chandelier and break both the Masters machine and plan.* 

--- 

Food and more reading for thought : https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/economics/ 

Something I’m going to Call Dad-Talks

So I realize I have very interesting conversations with my dad. So I’m gonna talk about them. They’ll range from comedy to tragedy to philosophy, but the point is socratic discussions. I love Dialogues, so I’m gonna phrase the dad talks as them, and they’ll come out in episodes. 

It’s bad news when you combine them with Bastards like me who look at notable Asshat Otto Von Bizzmarck and decides he’s Biz for short and deserves a story. 

bitches be like "i'm so mentally ill about this man" and the man is german chancellor and noted conservative asshat otto von bismarck. it's me, i'm bitches.

Speaking ill of the Dead

Okay, let’s have this conversation. The tragedy on the Titan Sub is an incredibly complicated topic, less so because of the actual technical issues of the submarine but for the actions of the company and crew. Perhaps by calling it a tragedy I have already made my opinion somewhat clear, but let me lament about the topic a bit further. 

Clearly the company did not take well enough actions prior to the dive of the submarine. It has had no peer review, not certification, and every attempt to express concern on the Submarines integrity was ignored in favor of a quicker time tune over and a profit. This is an inherent problem in the Adventure industry, where something that is meant to be undertaken slowly, carefully, and by well prepared experts is done by people who want an adrenaline rush and an experience. This leads to a lot of tragedy in the Industry. 

Secondly, the crew aboard has made some questionable designs in their life. I believe one report I saw claimed the co-founder of OceanGate and pilot of the Submarine was previously a private jet owner and flyer and thus according the account responsible for heavy air pollution and in passion of already great wealth. I believe they (the author of the account) found this to be abhorrent, and anybody who respects this earth would react to pollution, and found him to be  a terrible human being. 

There is also the issue of whether or not the site of tragedy should be a tourist destination, and also the waver the crew signed when entering the vessel. The waver clearly stated it was an experimental vessel and an uncertified one at that. 

Now none of these are what I have an issue with, seeing as I honestly think many mistake were made, that’s what makes it a tragedy and not a horror. What I have issue with it going around saying they deserved death, as though we should let people make their beds and lie in them, as though we should look death in the face and call it humane and right, as though I am supposed to speak ill of dead men for their money. 

So I’m going to go into these issues, from the point of view of a Sailors child. My parent is a sailor, and a Submariner at that. We’ve had extensive talks about the issues here, and I’d like to poke a few holes, a patch a few others, and make some conversation while I’m at it. 

I would like to ask you dear readers, what in the world do you actually know about Submarines? Had you read that waver, would you honestly believe there would better options? Would you know about the three to five organizations that certify Submarines or would you assume uncertified meant non-military? Would you not assume this new and amazing technologically was of course experimental? For what else could innovation in adventure be? 

There has been some outrage about the fact that the submarine was piloted by a game controller, well guess what, Navy Submarines have them too. Until very recently most Periscopes on Submarines were made to function through a highly calibrated set of mirrors. Quite literally mirrors. The submarine scene from the Fast and Furious 8 movie made me so mad, because there is not enough technology in an older submarine for Cipher to hack if she tried. Now, the most recent submarines use digital cameras in their periscopes. Want to know how they maneuver that? With an Xbox game controller. One of the Sailors pointed out that the technology for game control, meant to be intuitive to the user, could be very useful on the submarine and thus the engineers made it happen. Do not pretend the wireless, intuitive controller is not amazing technology because it helps you play video games. 

Another thing about Submarines, did you know that worldwide, during peace time, many nations have a specific system set up with each other to do search and rescue for submarines? Look up the disappearance of the ARA San Juan, an Argentina sub that also imploded and was only located with national help. The Hulk wasn’t too far off when he talked about being in a pressurized can being a bad idea. Submarines are some of the most deadly machines we have, in their military use and how much danger there is to operate them. As such, the international community reacts to them according. The US Navy specifically has a policy of being able to launch search and recovery equipment to the needed location or at least en route to within 24 hours of notification. This includes sonar and deep sea ROVs. Based on previous precedence set by Submarine emergencies, the international community is more likely to respond to Submarine disasters quicker, they have less time. 

So Yes, the tragedy of the refugee ship of Greece is a politically fueled tragedy and loss of life, but it is not the same as the Titan. The Titan didn’t get more attention because it has billionaires on board, it got more attention because it was a Submarine. Submarines have the benefit of being a recent dilemma for the world theaters, so they have more modern solutions while Refugees and Sailing ships have had centuries of existence to be wrangled into political machinations that make it complicated to rescue too retrieve. 

What is more likely to be a problem is the retrieval or lack there of the bodies, as those bodies are usually mounted over, but bodies lost at sea rarely get returned. The Navy has always held that the ocean is a fit and final resting place for those lost at sea, and while due respect is paid to their loss, retrieving the bodies and wreckage is harrowing and expensive. If you truly want to rage against those with a lot of a money, start asking who’s going to be paying for the retrieval operation and all that time spent searching. I would argue it should be OceanGate, for their negligence in the integrity of their Submarine lead to a loss of life. 

I will also honestly say this, I hate to speak ill of the dead even when it must be done. Yes, some of these people lost did terrible things, but they did not only do evil in their life and their story should not just be “They did this but they also did this!” it should be instead “They did this and this.” Was the french diver not also one of the only certified people to take wreckage from the Titanic to surface for study, posterity, and for museums? Was the British explorer not also a history enthusiast who was excited to see a piece of history he studied so fondly? Was the Son not also a student? Perhaps the pilot did pollute the earth, you’d be hard pressed to find someone who hadn’t, his crime is perhaps instead doing nothing to fix pollution. 

I believe a lot of us apply Spiderman's “With Great Power comes Great Responsibility” to those with Wealth, and while not wrong we get too disappointed when they fail to meet our standards. They are not obligated to help the world, as much as we need them to be. We want them to be better people, but they won’t always be. It is not wealth that made them bad, but their actions or lack thereof with it that did. 

The Navy hosts something called the Submarine ball, to celebrate the creation of the Submarine force. And every Submarine ball, they will list the submarines sunk and the life lost on them. I have gone too many times, heard that speech and list too many times to call the death by horrific pressure and cold and drowning something somebody has to have had deserved. 

Look up the specifics of implosion, of death, of how your blood boils if you rise to fast, of the cold seeping in so fast you feel like ice, to the lack of hair, and tell me you wish that on people. Tell me you have enough in you to wish somebody to die by the sea, lost and scared, and tell me how that makes you a righteous and good person. By all means rage an injustice, rage at the unfair, but do not turn that into a right to murder, to kill, and wish death on others. 

Markiplier and the Titanic Tourist Submarine

Okay, I am fully hopefull that the Titanic Tourist Sub gets found, but things aren’t looking too good. At this moment of posting I think they have less than 24 hours of air, assuming some things did or didn’t happen, and they have yet to be found much less rescued. In other news, Markiplier has a movie coming out that if it is anything like the game should be a horror pertaining to being in a deathly situation aboard a small submarine. Now, we know movies sometimes like to reference disasters and tragedies, usually with the benifit of at least a few years between the reference and the movie. Considering the release date of the movie and the current state of the tragedy I think Markiplier is about to reverse Pompeii reference himself.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: America & Canada (Hetalia), America & Russia (Hetalia), America & Denmark & Prussia (Hetalia) Characters: America - Character, Russia - Character, Prussia, Denmark, Canada - Character Additional Tags: Mentioned England, mentioned france, Mentioned Sweden - Freeform, Mentioned Finland - Freeform, Referencing Fanart, Referencing Headcanons, just chill, Not Fluff, not crack, not angst, just something I wrote for a writing class because I thought it was fun, Literally no prompt or theme, Just Chilling, this is like the asmr of fanfiction, Duck Dynasty, I don't even think Brooklyn Heights is a place, it just sounds nice and ryhmes Summary:

After a world meeting, America attempts to hang out with his friends at a bar. The only problem is that for his supposed 1,000 years of age he doesn't look like it. Makes it real hard for law-abiding bartenders to think he's not faking his ID. Oh well, guess he'll have to spend the night at home, with some not-so-surpising unexpected guests.

ノル様

Dear the Anon, not AllianKitty your amazing, but dear Anon, please let me put camels in your bookshelves. I would love to give you at least three coats of nail polish on your roof. If you would like, I would also give you for free a sun-bleach for any leather you own. In simpler terms, considering the ship of theseus, are you truly Belaphoron without the gonads of giant squids? I understand philosophey can be hard, but remember that King Henry the Eight had a tea party on a golden field. If are truly concerned for the planet Mars, please find help at Toys R’s Us. If that is unavailable, remember that theres an apple waiting for you. May the sun be blue and your nights be christmas, good afternoon, Anon. 

Warning:

The following post may not be advisable for everyone...There's Anon asshole ಠ⁠◡⁠ಠ

Froppy Hyrule wants says smt to you (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

(⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

How's Everyone Feeling, Philosophical?

I wanna discuss stuff- from the ship of Theseus, the new designs for the Aph UK bros, to Autism. Let’s start a conversation- you first. 

Does anybody else wanna try and be nice to the authour? i think she deserves it. if you actualy read the webtoon it actualy has an interesting plot and character development. so there is a lot of sexual stuff, we dont need to hate on it. i think the authour is actualy doing some pretty cool stuff by unabashedly showing sexual themes and genres. lets have fun together reading it instead of hating it because it really isnt hurting us.

Okay, I'm sorry for staying silent

But I have to say something.

Moy or A.K.A Alove whatever her name is, no one what's to see her damn SEX shit on the Internet,

Gosh damn is just weird how

she made the brother start to blush at the Princess aka sister in this comic of hers, trust me the Princess is not any BETTER, she is going After 5 men In this shit, men that she some call jewels that she ever so cares about goes and does shit And trying to stop the red rose lady from taking all her jewels away from her after she got done collecting them, so she can become Emperor of her kingdom, and yeah the jewels are the 5 men.

*cough* if I got the story wrong my apologies *cough*

Anywho

Her story is bad, how she has the male character committed themselves to her like that, in the most weirdest ways ever, *cough* the scene about kissing her foot *cough*

Also, the Princess what's them all to herself.

Shit, choose one I'm going to throw up 🤢

she gets so damn close

I bet her breath smells like hot hell😷

Why on earth would she think that other people want to read something that's so damn gross and sexual like that, that bitch of a princess is throwing herself at them like a bug.

nasty, get the damn spray.

So, she likes to put up comics that have nasty crap in there that are pretty much unsuitable, and unpleasant to the eyes of the public.

What I hate that she thinks is okay to go off and go posting, but on a different platform aka -->webtoon<-- thinking we can't find her,

Oh, Honey no,

everyone knows your puck-ass art style.

she can't get away from this, come on, look what you did👏👏👏 and

learn from your damn shitty mistakes,

Look I'm not trying to be rude, BUT people like her,

need to stop,

she already crossed the damn line and there's no going back, no matter how many times she tries to delete all her shit is not going to work, it's already out there, yeah some things may have got deleted, BUT NOT EVERYTHING IS DELETED.

No one should be going through all of this, if you could just say oh idk, I'm sorry I will learn from my bad action's and not do it again I will DO BETTER 👏👏👏👏👏 those simple words, could have changed her ass of your life, yeah not all people are going to forgive

you, but with time, THEY WOULD HAVE!!!

Yes I may not like her and yes she has nice art, but I don't like her

She just needs to stop.

I'm done saying what I need to say

I will see you guys in future posts.

Can't fit everything in one post.

BUT GOSH MOTHER OF A GOOD OLD DAMN, HER CHARACTER IS ANOTHER

OF VERSION OF HEART QUEEN!!!

Dear Hetalia Fandom

I am hoping to do my college project on the subculture of the Hetalia Fandom, and I hoping for some personal opinions. Just some simple questions if you can answer them. What do you think the hetalia fandom values within its community members? What are some symbols that mean things to you as a part of this fandom? What are your favorite fan fictions and why? What’s been your experience in the community? When did the 2P! part of the fandom pop up? And finally, have any of you got any options on the common themes throughout APH fan-fiction of immortality, heretical ethics, family, and mental illness? 

If carp could speak they would all have French accents

“Any ideas for the new park sculpture?”

“How about a giant, metallic octopus attacking a rook?”

“Perfect.”

Actually forget every other post about “primal” feelings and actions, the most connected to my early hominid ancestors i have ever felt in my LIFE is when slowly following an increasingly panicked sheep. I believe that slowly following ungulates is the most primally human activity in existence

how much scarier would a frog be if it ran instead of hopped .. u just hear plat plat plat plat coming towards u and u look down and it’s a frog going at full speed

We abducted humans.

To be fair, we abducted members of every new race. Abduct a small percentage of the population, expose them to some galactic prisoners, and we get a good idea of what germs, diseases, and viruses will make the jump between races. Do this over the course of a [roughly equivalent to a century], and you get a good idea of what there is, how quickly it mutates, etc. You also have the time to develop vaccines for any races that might be affected by the new race (including itself- we’re not heartless).

But we underestimated humans.

It was [roughly equivalent to four decades] into our testing of humanity. We picked up a human from his transport and placed him in a containment cell. He had some nutrients with him, and we picked that up too: less we had to feed him later.

But we underestimated the resourcefulness of humans.

Something went wrong- we think it was a door malfunction- and he escaped the cell. He disabled the guards easily (we suspect they were less alert than they should have been) and took their weapons. We locked all hatches, hoping to seal him in the laboratory wing. Unfortunately, he hacked the shipboard computer, gaining control of all systems. He made his way to the bridge, where he took the captain hostage. We offered him riches, technologies beyond human understanding.

But we underestimated the stubbornness of humans.

He was paid us no mind as he wrestled with the controls, as if on some quest. He punched numbers and figures into the console, and mumbled something about ‘being lit on fire’ by a superior. He set the ship down on the other side of the city from where he was picked up and opened the doors. We braced ourselves for a military confrontation, but it seemed like we were outside another human’s abode. He jumped out, carrying the nutrients with him.

We underestimated Domino’s 30-minute or free guarantee.

Not bad for a bunch of random noises we make with our mouths. Well done, everyone.

Give a bored human a screwdriver and you’ll find a pile of scrap where your ship used to be, with a proud looking human sitting nearby. 

A lot of ‘humans are weird’ posts play with the idea that humans are one of the few species that actually evolved as a predator and, as such, we are unusually strong and fast— but what if we’re not.

What if we’re tiny?

What if, to the majority of species in the galaxy, ten feet tall is unusually short— it basically only happens due to rare genetic conditions— and the average human is basically cat sized or smaller?

Instead of being terrified by our strength, the aliens’ most pressing concern is how exactly they’re going to communicate with us when we’re all the way down on the ground.

There are experiments, with aliens crouching low or humans standing on high platforms— but it usually ends up being either uncomfortable for the alien or dangerous for the human, or both, and just generally impractical for everyone.

But, while the diplomats and politicians are trying to figure out a dignified and simple solution, the ordinary people who actually have to work with the aliens have found one. Humans are, generally, pretty good climbers, and most species have conveniently places scales, feathers, fur or clothing that can act as a hand or foothold. Sure, some humans have a fear of heights, but those aren’t typically the ones going into space. Besides, climbing on a living alien often feels safer than climbing up a rock or something— at least you know you’ve got somebody to catch you.

Soon it becomes accepted that that’s the way humans travel with aliens— up high, easy to see and hard to tread on (there were quite a few… near misses, in the first few meetings between humans and aliens), balanced on somebody’s shoulder like the overgrown monkeys that we are.

Many humans see this as kind of an insult and absolutely refuse to go along with it, but they aren’t the ones who end up spending a lot of time with aliens— it’s just too inconvenient to talk to somebody all the way down on the ground. The ones that do best are the ones who just treat it like it’s normal, allowing themselves to be carried (at least, it’s 'carrying’ when the aliens are within earshot. Among themselves, most humans jokingly refer to it as 'riding’), and passing on tips to their friends about the best ways to ride on different species without damaging feathers, or stepping on sensitive spots (or, in at least one case, ending up with a foot full of poisonous spines…).

The reason they don’t feel patronised by this is that they know, and they know that nearly everyone else in the galaxy knows, that humans are not just pets.

After all, you’d be surprised when a small size comes in handy.

Need somebody to look at the wiring in a small and fairly inaccessible area of the ship? Ask a human.

Need somebody to fix this fairly small and very detailed piece of machinery? Ask a human, they’re so small that their eyes naturally pick up smaller details.

Trapped under rubble and need somebody to crawl through a small gap and get help? Ask a human— most can wriggle through any gap that they can fit their head and shoulders through.

If you’re a friend, humans can be very useful. If, on the other hand, you’re an enemy…

Rumours spread all around the galaxy, of ships that threatened humans or human allies and started experiencing technical problems. Lights going off, wires being cut— in some cases, the cases where the threats were more than just words and humans or friends of humans were killed, life support lines have been severed, or airlocks have mysteriously malfunctioned and whole crews have been sucked out into space.

If the subject comes up, most humans will blame it on “gremlins” and exchange grim smiles when they’re other species friends aren’t looking.

By this point, most ships have a crew of humans, whether they like it or not. Lots of humans, young ones generally, the ones who want to see a bit of the universe but don’t have the money or connections to make it happen any other way, like to stowaway on ships. They’ll hang around the space ports, wait for a ship’s door to open and dart on in. The average human can have quite a nice time scurrying around in the walls of an alien ship, so long as they’re careful not to dislodge anything important.

Normally nobody notices them, and the ones that do tend not  to say anything— it’s generally recognised that having humans on your ship is good luck.

If there are humans on your ship, they say, then anything you lose will be found within a matter of days, sometimes even in your quarters; any minor task you leave out— some dishes that need to be cleaned, a report that needs to be spellchecked, some calculations that need to be done— will be quickly and quietly completed during the night; any small children on the ship, who are still young enough to start to cry in the night, will be soothed almost before their parents even wake, sometimes even by words in their own tongue, spoken clumsily through human vocal chords. If any of the human are engineers (and a lot of them are, and still more of them aren’t, but have picked up quite a few tricks on their travels from humans who are) then minor malfunctions will be fixed before you even notice them, and your ship is significantly less likely to experience any major problems.

The humans are eager to earn their keep, especially when the more grateful aliens start leaving out dishes of human-safe foods for them.

This, again, is considered good luck— especially since the aliens who aren’t kind to the humans often end up losing things, or waking up to find that their fur has been cut, or the report they spent hours on yesterday has mysteriously been deleted.

To human crew members, who work on alien ships out in the open, and have their names on the crew manifest and everything, these small groups of humans are colloquially referred to as 'ship’s rats’. There’s a sort of uneasy relationship between the two groups. On the one hand, the crew members regard the ship’s rats as spongers and potential nuisances— on the other hand, most human crew members started out as ship’s rats themselves, and now benefit from the respect (and more than a little awe) that the ship’s rats have made most aliens feel for humans. The general arrangement is that ship’s rats try to avoid ships with human crew members and, when they can’t, then they make sure to stay out of the crew members’ way, and the crew members who do see one make sure not to mention them to any alien crew members.

The aliens who know, on the other hand, have gotten into the habit of not calling them by name— mainly because they’re shaky as the legality of this arrangement, and don’t want to admit that anything’s going on. Instead they talk about “the little people” or “the ones in the walls” or, more vaguely, “Them”.

Their human friends— balancing on their shoulders, occasionally scurrying down and arm so as to get to a table, or jumping from one person’s shoulder to another, in order to better follow the conversation— laugh quietly to themselves when they hear this.

Back before the first first contact, lot of people on Earth thought that humans would become space orcs. Little did they know, they’d actually end up as space fae.

Humans are unstoppable...Until they aren’t.

I’m not the most eloquent writer, but I’ve had this idea kicking around for a while and figured I’d put it out into the universe.

A lot of the basis for the “humans are space orcs” stuff is the idea that we’re pretty durable compared to many species, yeah? When it comes to physical trauma, we can bounce back from most things that don’t kill us outright, especially given the benefit of hypothetical space-age technology, and adrenaline is one heck of a drug when it comes to functioning under stress. 

But that doesn’t make us unkillable, and even though we can survive debilitating injuries and not die from shock, it doesn’t mean it’s fun. Dying of shock sucks, but at least it’s probably quick.

So - Imagine a ship, adrift in space, slowly being drawn into a star or something. In order to save the ship, someone has to repair the hyper-quantum-relay-majig on the hull or in the engine or whatever. Bit of a problem though- there’s a ton of deadly, deadly radiation (Wrath of Khan style) or poisonous fumes or, I dunno, electrical current, between the crew and the repair. Like, enough to kill most species instantly, so the crew is just like, ‘welp, guess we’ll die then’. But then.

BUT THEN

They ask the human. Because everyone’s heard the stories - you’re basically unkillable, right? Could you survive long enough in there to fix it? And their human goes real quiet for a second, but still says ‘Yeah, I could fix it’. And the rest of the crew is like, ‘Whaaaaaa, it won’t kill you?’ and the human repeats “I can fix it” (which isn’t an answer, but no one catches that, not yet at least), so they send ‘em in. And the human fixes it, they come back, the ship flies to safety, and the crew is thrilled to survive. If the human is a little quiet, well, they’re entitled after pulling off a miracle. Everyone else is just excited to get to the nearest station’s bar to tell their very own human story, cuz, ‘those crazy humans, amiright?’.

The good mood keeps up until the human is late for their next shift. At first it’s just faint unease, but- but they earned a bit of a lie-in, right? No reason to begrudge them some extra rest, even if it is a little weird for them to oversleep. They’ll be fine. Humans are always fine. 

(Right?)

(…Wrong.)

- What is… help. Help!-

- ake up! You have t-

- been days. You need sleep, you-

- nother transfusion. We could-

- out of sedatives!-

A week later, the crew finally reaches the station. They stumble into the bar, haggard and haunted. And over the next months and years a new rumor about humans starts to make its way through space. A rumor unlike any before.

‘Be careful with your humans’ it whispers. ‘Their strength is not always a blessing. Be sure they don’t do something they can’t come back from, because when a human dies… they die slowly.’

i love humanity and our weird obsession with making drinking various liquids very hard to drink, for the fun of it

Can you even imagine being the poor alien sod responsible for auditing an earthling spaceship’s spending allowance? Like: 

“I see, and why do you require many tubes of white plant flavoured paste?” 

“Oh well, if we don’t rub that on our teeth twice daily the bacteria living in my mouth will begin to devour me teeth.” 

“…Noted.” 

“I have also noticed several large shipments of specific medications, and a variety of individually packaged absorbent material - however injury records do not show sufficient numbers to justify these recurrent deliveries.” 

“Ah, yeah, it’s not really an injury per say. As part of our natural reproductive cycle approximately half the population will shed the lining of one of their internal organs and expel it.”

“…that is the most horrifying thing that I have ever heard.”

“Yeah.”

“Does such a process not hurt?”

“That’l be what the medication’s for. Pain killers for the cramps, birth control to stop the process.” 

“…and your reasoning behind the fully functional, high-tech entertainment system?” 

“Okay, that we could probably do without. But in our defence that was actually insisted on as a standard feature of all fleet-ships expected to encounter Terrans. Admiral Plo’Kaght insisted on it. Something about bored humans and a an illegal betting ring featuring a cleaning robot with a knife strapped to it going up against a human with a mop?” 

“…I believe I should speak with my superiors.”