Can Be Seen As Platonic Or Romantic - Tumblr Posts

based on the club penguin meme

I decided the kind of person I want to be is someone who can be calm and rational even under duress. For example, I once got my hand stuck in a gate, and found it better to say, "open the gate right now," than to swear because my hand was released sooner than if my word choice had been different.

Enthusiasm (or anger or any other deeply felt emotion) doesn't have to be big and bold and loud and swearing when there are a myriad of words and expressions in the English language which can more accurately depict emotions than the more commonly phraseology. Using a swear is creating a shortcut which cuts right past true meaning instead of hitting it dead on.

Also, the best advice I ever got about not swearing came from my dad. He said, "When you think a swear word, bite your tongue and make it hurt." This leads, some days, to having a really sore tongue. But it also leads to having a cleaner vocabulary. And I think when expressing oneself, preciseness instead of vulgarity goes a long way.

Anyway, my point is:

tl;dr preciseness in language creates greater understanding and connection between people

how do people not swear??? like where does their anger go?? how do they show their enthusiasm??? what if they stub their toe??? like saying golly gosh isn’t really gonna cut it barbara 

Firey helps Flower get a summer tan

thought about how gaty and two are besties, so why not make four and saw besties?

more saw/four

animatic and clock

SELF INDULGENCE :]

Sour!!!!!!!!!!!! Faw!!!!!!!!!! hell yeah!!!!!!!!!

hooray

eeeeeeeee happinessssss

^,^!!

wowowowowowow twox!!! kinda lazy with this one but I think I’ll write it out as a fanfic cause it would work better that way it seems to me LOLOLL

This is more like some kind of sketch, in a world where Glatt and Ghostbur both stay in the Dream SMP. So there are not many descriptions or anything like it.

Ghostbur and Glatt, sitting on some roof of one of the many buildings on the Dream SMP. Glatt with his bottle, he is drinking even more then usually, the ram-hybrid is holding also something else in his hand, it seems to be an old photo. Ghostbur looks over the shoulder of his "friend", he recognizes both persons that are on this photo. Its Glatt, or to be more correct...its Schlatt...and Quackity...well, this probably explains the mood of the grumpy ghost.

-do you want some blue?..-

the, usually talkative, ghost in the yellow sweater hands his partner in "being dead" some of his blue. Where does he even store so much. Glatt just rolls his eyes and throws the, now empty, bottle to the ground. Now he puts his second hand on the photo, starts ripping it in two.

-I don't need your stupid color. I just need....to forget.-

Ghostbur wasn't really convinced. Even if he doesn't know this ram-hybrid for a long time, he is convinced that this isn't the type of person, who would "forget" something. He wants to say something, but doesn't get the chance. Glatt let's the wind take the two pieces, that ones made one whole photo and then just disappears. He often does this, when he tries to get away from any problems or conversations. Ghostbur sights with a little smile.

On the next morning, Glatt finds the photo, that he actually threw away...its fixed with some transparent tape. The young men isn't very pleased with this "kind offering".

-Ghostbur!-

he shouts and the younger ghost doesn't let him wait for too long.

-Yes Glatt?-

he asks with a gentle smile, a little giggle escapes him.

-Don't "yes Glatt" me here! You know "why" I called you! You know, that I said that I want to for---

-It will not help...-

Glatt stops his shouting, looking at the blue-loving ghost, who looks sad, holding his blue as usually to help himself.

-Forgetting the bad things...it...doesn't make you happier...and...this things don't just disappear...I know it Glatt...every time I see how they look at me...they call me by *his* name...they see *him*...they see *his* actions...not mine...even if I forget, they will never...-

Ghostbur takes out more blue and starts to sob.

-You know....you don't look anything like him.-

The older one even let's out a chuckle, after saying that.

-And you are not even near his annoyance.-

-Near who's annoyance?-

-...Eh...forget it...-

And, he forgot again. Maybe it's for the better. Glatt looks again at the photo.

And here is another little drabble about the "Cursed Limbo AU". I just try to practice writing and I got a little idea.

Trigger Warning: Mention of suicide thoughts and depressive behavior.

It was already night. Stars filled the night sky and illuminated Las Nevadas, that seemed to never sleep and always be busy. After Technoblades escape there was no time to relax. More security. More patrols. This wasn't something that you would like to have, when you have a former tyrant, who was just a shell of his former self, as a guest.

Roaming through the halls, Fundy often had to stop himself. His long tail slowly waving, while his heartbeat wouldn't calm down. Everyone was busy, but someone had to watch Schlatt. Just to be sure that he wouldn't do anything that he would regret. Despite everything that happened in the past, the young fox-hybrid really couldn't feel hatred towards the ex-president. He was determined to be responsible, this is his choice and he will stand by it. Schlatt will have company today, if he likes it or not. Even though...the former president really didn't seem to care if someone is in the room, that was part of the reason, why Fundy was so hesitant. After he took a deep breath, he continued his path, slowly moving towards the room. Silence. This was always the only welcome they all seem to get...well...besides Wilbur. This honestly brings Fundys blood to boil a little. Why is it Wilbur, who is trusted? It is just not right.

The young fox had to stuff those thoughts away, as far in his subconscious, that he could just block it and never think about it again. Three quiet knocks at the door. Firstly silence...but then the door was slowly opened. Fundy tried to give his most welcoming smile. His eyes met Schlatts....they seemed so lifeless. This almost let a shiver down Fundys spine. Those eyes kind of reminded him of Ghostburs....but Ghostbur was...well...a ghost...and Schlatt is revived, he shouldn't have the eyes of a dead man...

It seemed like the fox-hybrid stared for too long. The ex-president already made some steps back and avoided his gaze. This is awkward. A quiet exhale and Fundy enters the room, closing the door and making the other free bed ready for himself. Schlatt just lied down on his own bed, staring at the ceiling, rarely blinking. He was even more...apathetic then usual, which made Fundy nervous. He lied down, but faced Schlatts bed.

-...Schlatt...could you promise me something?-

The ram hybrids ears twitched a little bit, before he looked at the young man.

-...Please....don't kill yourself tonight...-

Fundy could hear his own heartbeat...it was fast...almost painful. Schlatt seemed to hold his breath for a moment. Then he reached for a notebook and a pen, slowly writing something down and then showing it to the fox-hybrid with a weak smile.

"Not in your presence Fundy."

The fox ears were pressed to the young man's head, he slowly nodded.

-...Sorry...I didn't want it to...sound that way-

In that moment Schlatt changed his expression, seemingly more troubled and began to write something down fast, before showing it to Fundy once again.

"You are clearly not the one who should apologize here."

This took the ginger by surprise, but he just nodded silently, not looking away, even after the ram-hybrid put his notebook on the nightstand. He was looking at the ceiling again, as if he would avoid even the chance to meet the others eyes. This is definitely something that Fundy should bring up later. It makes him uncomfortable that another person would think of themselves as "unworthy for an apology" because, honestly, at this rate, Fundy doesn't need an apology. He just wants to hear the former presidents voice again.

First part:

Second part:

My friend requested I draw this and I love it!! It was a pain, but it worked out. Sebastian and pAInter are adorable!! I am secretly pAInter’s #1 fan I swear.

Id say more but my brain hatch has like 2 flies and a penny inside.

LIES, SPIES, AND HOT GUYS |

Gn!Detective!Reader x Batman

summary: as a detective you make sure you prioritize Bruce Wayne’s safety but he assures you he doesn’t need it, prick.

You never expected to find yourself at one of Gotham's most glamorous events—a gala at Wayne Manor. Awkward and out of place, you struggle to fit in among Gotham's elite.

The moment you stepped into Wayne Manor, you felt like a fish out of water. The grand chandeliers, the polished marble floors, and the glittering gowns of Gotham's elite were a far cry from the gritty crime scenes and dimly lit precincts you were used to.

Far different. The air felt too expensive to breathe.

Why had you even agreed to this?

Oh right, the Commissioner insisted on having "a few of Gotham's finest" at the event, just in case. And with your gruff demeanor and awkward social skills, you had drawn the short straw.

Awkwardly, you stood near a large ornate column, sipping a glass of water and trying to avoid eye contact with the crowd. Despite the suit and tie—or, in their case, a somewhat ill-fitting tuxedo—they felt utterly out of place. The pants felt too tight around your rear and you got this done at the shop. How could they screw that up?

Your eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, searching for anything—or anyone—out of the ordinary.

Just as you were beginning to try to relax, you spotted a group of familiar faces. The Wayne kids—Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, and a few others—stood near the large windows, looking far too at ease in the luxurious setting.

Summoning a bit of courage, you approached them. After all, if they were going to be stuck here, they might as well make some polite conversation.

"Grayson, Drake," You greeted with a nod, trying to sound casual but polite.

Dick smiled brightly. "Detective! Didn't expect to see you here!"

"Yeah, well… duty calls, I wasn’t exactly invited by you but..” You muttered, feeling a bit more self-conscious than you intended. Tim gave a small nod of acknowledgment, while Damian looked as uninterested as ever.

Why do you even try at this.

Before the conversation could go further, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Detective, welcome to Wayne Manor."

You turned to see Bruce Wayne approaching, his signature charming smile firmly in place. The billionaire looked every bit the part, effortlessly exuding wealth and charisma.

His looks lived up to the legend, pretty punk.

"Mr. Wayne," You greeted, doing their best to mask their awkwardness. Which probably failed. "Thanks for having me.”

"Of course. I always appreciate Gotham's finest keeping an eye on things," Bruce replied, his tone friendly yet distant. There was a glint in his eyes, something that set you on edge. Before they could respond, Bruce offered another smile, then excused himself, moving on to mingle with other guests.

You watched him go, your brows furrowing. Something about Bruce seemed… off. But before you could dwell on it, your attention snapped back to the task at hand: scanning the room for any potential threats.

As the evening wore on, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. You kept a close eye on Bruce from across the room, noting how the billionaire seemed to glide through the crowd effortlessly, charming everyone he spoke to. But that nagging feeling in the back of your mind wouldn't go away.

And then it happened.

A loud crash echoed through the grand hall, followed by the panicked screams of guests. The doors burst open, and a group of armed robbers stormed in, weapons raised. Chaos erupted as people dove for cover, and the orchestra’s music was abruptly silenced.

"Everyone down! Now!" one of the robbers shouted, firing a warning shot into the ceiling.

Instinctively, you reached for their gun, but the crowd's panic made it impossible to get a clear shot. People were scrambling, pushing, and shouting. In the confusion, you caught sight of Bruce Wayne, who had been near the doors moments before. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

Damn it!

You pushed through the crowd, your focus entirely on finding Bruce. If something happened to Gotham's golden boy on your watch, you would never forgive yourself.

Thankfully, you managed to slip away from the main hall, only to find Bruce backing into a nearby room, the door clicking shut just as you reached it. They shoved the door open and rushed inside, finding Bruce standing calmly by the window, looking far too composed for someone who was supposed to be terrified.

His fingers twitched when he heard the door open though, so maybe he was alarmed. You couldn’t blame him, it was a scary situation for anyone.

"Mr. Wayne, are you alright?" You panted, closing the door behind them and locking it.

Bruce turned to face them, an almost amused expression on his face. "I’m fine, Detective."

"Good. Stay here," You ordered, pulling out their gun and moving to stand between Bruce and the door. "I’ll handle this."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "That won’t be necessary."

You frowned. "What do you mean it won’t be necessary? There are armed robbers out there! You need to stay put, or you could get hurt."

"I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Bruce said, his tone calm and almost… teasing.

The detective’s frustration flared. Here you were, trying to protect this man, and he was acting like it was no big deal. "Look, I get that you’re used to getting your way, but right now, you need to let me do my job!"

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly, the playful glint fading. "And what if I told you that I could handle this situation better than you think?"

You were about to snap back, but the words died in their throat as they realized what Bruce was implying. "You’re not seriously thinking about playing hero, are you? This is my duty.”

Marching up to him, you poked your finger repeatedly into his chest.

“I’m here to protect you, Mr. Wayne.”

Before Bruce could respond, a loud bang echoed from the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps approaching the door. With precision, you pulled Bruce by the waist and forced him behind you. You stiffened, turning their full attention to the door. "Stay behind me."

"Detective—"

"I said stay behind me!" You hissed, cutting Bruce off as you aimed your gun at the door. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins.

The door burst open, and you were ready to fire, but the figure that entered the room made them hesitate. It was Nightwing.

"Hold your fire!" Nightwing ordered, raising his hands as he stepped inside.

You lowered their weapon, exhaling a shaky breath. "What are you doing here?"

Nightwing glanced at Bruce, then back at you. A cheeky glint in his eyes. "I’m here to get him out of here.”

"Wait, you know him?" You asked, confused.

Nightwing’s lips curled into a half-smile. "You could say that."

Bruce stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Thank you for your concern, Detective, but I’ll be safe with him."

You opened their mouth to argue, but the calm, assured look in Bruce’s eyes stopped them. For some reason, you believed him—despite how absurd it all seemed.

But did you seriously suck that much at your job that he felt safer with masked vigilante than a GCPD officer? You felt your pride shatter.

With a bitter taste in your mouth and the slightest pout on your lips, you nodded. Giving Bruce a pat on the back.

Nightwing took Bruce by the arm, guiding him toward the door. "Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe."

You watched them go, their mind racing. None of this made sense. Why would Nightwing, of all people, be protecting Bruce Wayne? And why did Bruce seem so… unconcerned?

As the door closed behind them, You finally allowed yourself to breathe. The realization hit you like a freight train: Batman was out there, hunting these criminals, and Bruce Wayne was likely his next target.

"Idiot," You muttered to yourself, rubbing your temples. "Of course, Batman would want to protect him."

Then you felt your heart sink.

“Or harm him.”

But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bruce Wayne than met the eye. Something you couldn’t quite put you're finger on.

As you exited the room, ready to join the fight outside, you couldn’t help but wonder: Just who exactly was Bruce Wayne? And why did they feel like they were in way over their head?

One thing was for sure: you were going to find out.

And when you did, you had a feeling it would change everything.

Red Hood stopped your inner monologue. “Yo, Hey, Dude— C’mon. Snap out of it.”

You blinked, your eyes reaching up.

“Now, are you going to stand there looking like a rookie, or are you going to help me with these goons?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, turning to see Red Hood leaning casually against the doorframe, his helmet tilted slightly as if amused by your daze. You cursed inwardly—first Nightwing, now Red Hood. How many of Gotham’s vigilantes were going to show up tonight?

“You’re here too?” you asked, exasperated.

“Yeah, and lucky for you. Looks like you could use the backup,”

Red Hood quipped, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. “Now, are we gonna take these guys down, or do you need a minute to process whatever conspiracy theories you’re cooking up?”

You shot him a glare but nodded. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Red Hood grinned beneath his helmet, drawing his guns. “Hell yeah.”

a/n: guys, asks r open :3 I wanna write more for my boysss 🫶😔 (no cursed shit plz)

aauughhg being pulled back into the sonic fandom holy toledo