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#didn’t want to force myself to do anything
drdemonprince · 2 days
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I was never really certain about my transition in the way that most gatekeeping hormone prescribers and curious members of the public demand that a trans person be. I didn’t “always know” that I was not cisgender. I haven’t “always known” anything about myself. Very few truths about me have always remained true, my existence is too interpersonal, contextual, and ever-evolving for all of that. (So is most everyone else’s, I think). I don’t think that the fact I’d eventually choose to exercise my body autonomy at age 30 by taking hormones is a decision I could have foreseen when I was a child. All that I knew about being transgender when I was a kid was a fact that most children intuitively know: gender assignment was a violation of my freedom, of everyone’s freedom in fact, and it was wrong. As an infant and then a child and teenager, people kept imposing labels on me; they kept forcing me and my body into prescribed gendered boxes, and while the specific labels and boxes never really felt like the right ones, the most disturbing part about it all was the forcing. No coerced identity would have ever felt right. Children can tell when secrets are being kept from them, and when adults are restricting their choices. They notice that they and the other children are being lined up boy-girl, boy-girl, without ever being told what a girl or a boy even is. They can see their parents frowning when they reach for the doll with the shimmery hair, or climb atop the neighbor kid on the playground. Kids know that they are forbidden from sitting with their legs spread wide or flicking their wrist, and their gender illegibility is shamed in them, long before they get any answers about what gender means or where it comes from or why it’s so important that they make themselves easy to understand.
Like the cloned children in Never Let Me Go who grow up being conditioned for a life of forced organ donation, children in a cissexist society grow up conditioned to fall within certain gendered boundary lines, and by the time they learn that the reason for this is almost completely arbitrary, they can’t imagine any alternative. Not until some of them hear about gender transition and find the prospect very compelling, for some reason. You can say that reason is because some of us are inherently trans, but there’s absolutely nothing in the way of brain science, genetics research, or even sociological data to back that up. Besides, the search for a biological “reason” that people are transgender or queer runs counter to the goal of queer liberation in the long run. Science only needs to explain the existence of transgender people (or queer people more broadly) if our existence is in some way aberrant or a problem. If queerness is accepted as a form of human diversity that simply exists, then there is no need to excuse it by claiming that it is never a choice. It can be a choice, if a person wants to make it, and hopefully it satisfies them, but maybe it won’t. Freedom to choose means freedom to forever be dissatisfied, to search endlessly for more, and yes, to capable of making a mistake. I would say that viewing myself as transgender was a choice. I decided to break away from the straight, female categories to which I had been assigned, and doing so allowed me to view the legal and societal power structures that had restricted me more clearly. It helped me better understand myself. But that does not mean the actual act of breaking away was always the truest reflection of who I am. The version of me that transitioned was a person on the run — and how a person behaves, thinks, and self-conceives when they are fleeing is not a great reflection of whom they might be if they were safe. If we all lived in a world free from mandatory gender assignment, and where our bodies were not mined for meaning about the kinds of sex we liked, the clothing we should wear, the personality qualities we have, the roles we should play in society, and the connections we are allowed to form with others, who knows who each of us might be. But none of us get to live in that world, or ever gets completely free from the frameworks of heterosexuality and the gender binary. These frameworks shape every legal institution we encounter, every school we attend, every item of clothing we put on, every substance we take into our bodies, every piece of paperwork that ever gets printed about us, and every look another person ever gives us. And so we make due with rewriting and recombining those frameworks as best we can. It should come as no surprise that those us who break away from the binary have to experiment and revise how we understand ourselves quite a bit — sometimes getting things “wrong,” sometimes searching forever for the semblance of something “right.” Sometimes reveling in the “wrongness” of all the available options is kind of the point.
I wrote about my detransition, retransition, and the eternal dissatisfaction that is probably the corest truth of my identity. It's free to read or have narrated to you on my Substack.
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verstappen-cult · 3 hours
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Okay so this is my first request even having but I just had this random idea. So basically I had knee surgery recently (won't get into that 😂) but I was just wondering if you could write a fic about lestappen where their girlfriend gets surgery and basically the whole thing is just fluff tbh add whatever u want or whatever surgery if u write this. But I just feel like they would definitely make me feel loved after surgery
“Are you comfortable?” Max asks, fluffing the pillows behind your head.
It’s the third time he asks you the same question in a span of ten minutes. You don’t want to be rude, he’s just trying to help, so you smile up at him.
“Yes, baby. Thank you.” He opens his mouth to speak again but you beat him to it. “Weren’t you going to stream today?”
Max frowns at you, and shakes his head. “No, I told the boys I won’t be present today. I’ll be taking care of you.”
Your heart melts. If it weren’t for the surgery you just had that makes it a little difficult to move, you would be getting up to kiss him.
“I won’t go anywhere, and I already have everything I need here,” You take his hand, caressing the inside of his wrist with your thumb. “You can go, I’ll call you if I need anything. Besides, you know how much I like to watch your streams.”
“Are you sure?”
You nod, “Yes, go!”
Max leans and kisses you gently, being very careful, and then flies out of the room shouting something similar to I love you.
You reach for your laptop, ready to watch your boyfriend. And he really wastes no time because in less than five minutes he’s joining the stream, the viewers going absolutely crazy about him.
“I wasn’t going to join today, Crane. But my girlfriend insisted!” Max says and you can’t help but smile.
“She had surgery recently, no?”
“Yeah, nothing too serious. She’s resting now,” Then he looks at the camera and has the audacity to wink.
The stream goes like any other, they joke around, they play and joke some more. You don’t even notice when an hour has passed, it’s only when you look up to see Charles at the bedroom door that you realize how late it is.
“Charlieee, I missed you.” You pout, making grabby hands at him. He immediately makes his way to you, leaning to leave a kiss on your forehead. “What took you so long?”
“I couldn’t find the medicine you needed but I got everything after searching literally everywhere.” He takes off his jacket, sighing. “I picked us some dinner, too. Where’s Max?”
“Streaming.” You say, pointing to the screen where he’s looking very focused and hot.
“What?!”
But before you can beg him not to say anything, he’s already storming out, going directly to Max’s streaming room. You can’t move but you still have a front row seat.
Looking back at the screen, you see Charles’ legs coming into view. You see in slow motion how he removes Max’s headphones off his head with a little more force than necessary.
Max turns around and a smile makes its way into his face. “Hey love, didn’t hear you come in.”
“You left her alone?! She just had surgery and you left her alone?!”
“She insisted!”
“You should’ve said no!” Charles gives Max’s shoulder a little push and storms out.
You can hear him saying something in French from your room, and you know he’s just cursing Max for leaving you alone.
You hear Max’s friends laughing and making fun of him while your boyfriend looks embarrassed, cheeks impossibly red. He says a quick goodbye before shutting everything down.
Charles enters the room, brows furrowed.
“You didn’t have to do that.” You say, trying to look more angry than amused. “He didn’t want to but I insisted.”
“I told him to take care of you while I was out, was that so hard?”
Max shows up then, shoulders slumped and looking like a kicked puppy.
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t need you to be by my side every hour of the day.”
Charles' expression relaxes and he opens his mouth to argue, but you raise your hand to stop him.
“I’m not finished,” He closes his mouth and you sigh before saying, “Max, come here.” He immediately does, sitting by your side. “You’re gonna apologize to him now.” You speak to Charles this time, looking intently at him.
Charles lets his head fall forward. Now he’s the one who looks like a kicked puppy and you try very hard not to laugh.
“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, getting up just to sit at the other side of his boyfriend.
“It’s not like you left me alone yesterday so coy could play some FIFA while Max was training.”
Max gasps, clearly offended, “I want a public apology.”
“It was supposed to be a secret!” Charles groans and you slap his arm.
The smile is back on Max’s face.
“They’re gonna make fun of me for life.”
“They already make fun of you, Maxie.”
“Okay, rude.”
“And by the way,” Charles glares at you, pointing an accusatory finger at your face. “We’re just trying to take care of you. I don’t care if we annoy you, we’re not gonna stop.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Charles shuts you up with a kiss. He does the same with Max, peppering his face with kisses as an apology too. “I’ll grab dinner and we can watch a movie.”
Max stands up and follows Charles out of the room.
“I want to help too!”
“No!” they shout from the kitchen.
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Save the Last Dance For Me
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Summary: you and Dick have been dating in secret, until at a party he’s forced by circumstances (coff George Luz coff) to set things straight
Notes: fluff, jealousy
Word count: 1068
“I don't believe you actually have a boyfriend. You were saying that just to throw me off” The brown-eyed soldier insisted in a mocking way.
I smiled to myself and glanced furtively behind me, more or less where I knew the man I was secretely dating must have been.
“Oh you better believe it, George” I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, looking at him quite amused.
“Then who is it? Why is it such a secret?” He asked rolling his eyes.
“I'm really not sure you want to know” I smirked, and that was certainly no lie.
“Alright, alright” he raised his arms in surrender. “Tell you what, let's make a deal: I stop asking about this mysterious guy if you agree to dance with me.” The tone was hopeful: “Just one song” He specified, noticing my raised eyebrow.
I didn't see anything wrong with giving him one dance, so I agreed: “Okay, but I don't want to hear another word about it.” I warned him.
He flashed a toothy smile and offered me his hand, in such a funny and theatrical way that it made me burst out laughing. "You're an idiot"
“I know” He winked.
We began to move to the center of the wide room, where other couples were already dancing. He wasn't exactly a talented dancer and kept tripping over my feet, making us both laugh.
About a minute and a half into the song, we managed to find a slightly more synchronized rhythm. I looked up at his face and little by little his usual playful smile had disappeared, his eyes instead fixed on me with an unusually serious and intense look that left little room for misunderstandings.
Uh oh, I thought. This wasn’t good news. I had been too naive to think that accepting to dance with him wouldn’t send involuntary mixed signals.
“George…” I said, instinctively moving away to leave more space between our bodies.
The song we were dancing to came to an end just then. “One more song?” He half pleaded, his expression so hopeful that it broke my heart a little. I didn’t want to be the one to do this to him.
I looked at him gently. “I'm sorry, I can't” I started to take a step back, but he didn't let go of my left hand, still intertwined with his, almost as if he was struggling and fighting the urge to draw me back to him.
“George” I repeated, voice calm but with a hint of warning.
Before I could do or say anything else, I felt a slight shift of air and then a hand coming to rest lightly on my side. I didn't need to look to know who it belonged to.
George’s eyes widened and he immediately let go of my hand. “Major Winters!” He almost stood at attention. “I-I didn't see you there”
I finally allowed myself to shift my attention to Dick. His gaze was firmly fixated on George and he was barely blinking. I saw no trace of anger or irritation in it (though I knew he was quite good at disguising those), but a clear determination that spoke much louder than words.
“No need for formalities, private, this is a party. I trust that you're having fun?” His tone was calm and polite as usual, but for once almost unnaturally so. As a consequence, it came across as slightly menacing.
George must have sensed the trap, because he soon started babbling: “Yes, sir! I mean…a normal, regular amount of fun. Nothing special going on here. Just one dance” He really stressed the word one.
“I'm glad to hear that” Dick smiled, at last turning his attention towards me. “Because I was really looking forward to this next one. Can I have the honor, miss?”
My heart skipped a beat at that. Jealousy was a new but certainly rather good look on him.
“Of course you can, major” I decided to play along even though it was pretty clear, what he was doing.
When I looked to the side, George had already vanished into thin air. I gave a small chuckle. “You didn't need to terrorize him like that”
“I did no such thing” he said with a smirk, quickly intertwining our fingers, while his other hand was still firmly resting on my right side. The band began playing a slower tempo, romantic song and I gladly let him lead me into the music. He was a pretty good dancer. Then again, I was yet to find anything he couldn’t do well.
Both of my eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? What happened to keeping secrecy above all?” I teased him.
“Well, it felt like the situation required that I come clean.” He whispered very close to my ear. “Besides, you didn't seem to mind all that much”
I felt a warm rush of adrenaline going through my body, and hoped I wasn't blushing outwardly as I was on the inside.
I recognized it as the effect only he had on me. Being in his arms felt so natural and right, it left no space for doubt in regards to my feelings for this man, and his for me. And I really didn't mind one bit.
“Who are you and what have you done to Dick Winters” I shook my head in disbelief, laughing.
“Does that mean that I should stop?” He inquired.
Without interrupting our slow swaying back and forth to the rhytmn, I placed both of my hands around his neck, bringing him closer, allowing myself to stare straight into his eyes. “Don't you dare”
I saw a brief flash of hesitation passing through those blue eyes, like an implicit request for permission, and I nodded, smiling.
“I've been waiting to do this all night” He gently cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, slowly but ardently, in front of everyone.
I could hear a few gasps and cheers in the background over the sound of the music playing, but when we turned around everybody had gone back to the party acting as if nothing happened.
“You know, major, your men will definitely talk after this” I jokingly protested.
I could feel his smile on my lips as he kissed me again: “Let them”
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galaxymagitech · 1 day
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Skyglow
Summary: Jason wakes up in a coffin for the second time, the feeling of satin brushing against his fingers and the thick scent of dirt filling his nostrils. He should probably start digging. But he doesn't.
Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne
Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, possibly something that counts as a suicide attempt (not sure), a character claws at their skin.
It’s a dark, clear night in Gotham, and if you squint hard enough, you can almost see the stars.
Jason sits at the edge of the roof, staring into the sky and pretending like he’s finding meaning there. There’s the sound of soft footsteps behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason sees Nightwing hang his legs off the roof’s edge a few feet away.
“When I was little,” Jason says, “I used to think they made the stars up.”
Dick hums.
“Bruce took me on a business trip in Metropolis, one day. We wanted to be there before sundown, but we ended up getting delayed. Don’t remember why. And so we were driving on the interstate and I looked up from my book and just—there were stars. Everywhere. And I was just like, oh, I guess stars aren’t just a metaphor. Can you believe that? I was twelve when I learned that stars were real.”
Dick shifts a little. “I never thought of that.”
“What, that a stupid little kid wouldn’t believe in stars?”
“That some people in Gotham haven’t ever seen a star. That’s just…” They sit in silence, for a bit. “Why are we here?” Dick asks, eventually.
Jason shrugs. “I dunno why you followed me.” That’s not entirely true. He’d be willing to bet that Tim snitched. But he doesn’t know why Tim decided his concerns were important enough to bother Nightwing about. Or why Dick decided to actually be concerned.
Dick sighs. “You know what I’m asking. Why are you here?”
Jason doesn’t know. He’s been hanging out on a lot of rooftops, lately. Maybe if he sits on enough ledges, he’ll decide if it’s actually worth it to jump, instead of just slowly sliding off. 
Unlike the stars, that’s a metaphor; Jason wouldn’t jump. A fall isn’t clean enough. Too much of a chance that the universe will fuck him over again. No, if he dies, he wants to stay dead.
“I don’t know what brought me back,” Jason says, well aware that Dick meant here on the rooftop, not here as in alive. “But dead screw-ups don’t come back to life. That’s for…Superman. The forces of evil. Hell, I’d buy it if Batman came back. But me? No fucking way was I supposed to get a second shot.”
“You did, Jason,” Dick says. “You’re alive. I don’t care if we don’t know how, you’re alive.”
But Jason just plows right past. “I figured, if I didn’t deserve a second shot, then I must’ve been brought back for a reason. ‘cause there was something I needed to do.” He frowns. “Do you know the first words I heard once I came back to myself?” Dick shakes his head. “Yeah, why would you? I didn’t say. But. Talia said, ‘you remain unavenged.’ That’s what she told me.”
“Jason—”
 “So I figured it had to be revenge, right? Only, I haven’t been able to kill the Joker. And then I figured, maybe I needed to prove Batman wrong. But he’s still doing the same thing he always did, letting the Joker live, not fixing anything. And then I figured, it was up to me, and my job was to fix things. But I’m not killing right now, I’m following the rules, and I’m a fucking joke, Dick. Everyone knows it. So there isn’t really a point to me after all.”
“Don’t say that.”
Jason shrugs. “It’s true. There isn’t. It would’ve been better if I hadn’t crawled my way out of that grave.”
---
Jason wakes up gasping for air and rolls over, fumbling for the switch of the lamp beside his bed. Instead, his fingers brush against cushioned satin.
Groggily, he opens his eyes, only to see complete darkness. No light filters through the curtains or leaks underneath the door. It’s unnatural. It’s wrong. He reaches up an arm, only to hit the ceiling a couple inches above his face. That’s when the panic sets in.
Jason loses himself to the shocks of fear pulsing through his system, pumped by his pounding heart. For a long time, he can’t think at all. He can only drown in the darkness and terror. When he regains awareness, his breaths are shallow and he can feel strips of satin beneath his fingers, torn from the roof of—
What is the last thing you remember? Jason blinks, but his memories swim. He doesn’t know. There are glimpses, lines thrown out into the water, but as soon as he reaches for them, they’re gone. He leans over Tim’s shoulder in the Batcave, examining a color-coded spreadsheet. He stands in front of Bruce, helmet on, as they brief on top of a rooftop. He sits at the kitchen table of Safehouse 4, the oldest of the safehouses he hasn’t burnt yet, with Around the World in 80 Days propped open as he picks at an omelet. All of the memories feel old. None of them explain where he is now.
His neck is itching, Jason realizes. He reaches up instinctively to loosen his tie. That’s when he realizes that he is, in fact, wearing a tie. These days, Jason only wears one of those for infiltration. Was he on an infiltration mission? He brushes a hand against his face. There doesn’t seem to be any make-up there, not even concealer for his scars.
The realization comes to him dully, this time.
He’s in a suit, surrounded by satin, in a small, enclosed space, and it’s dark. Jason’s been here before.
---
Jason stands across from Bruce, no, Batman. At the man’s side is Robin, arms slightly raised and fists tightly clenched. It’s milliseconds away from a defensive position. Jason should probably feel bad about that, but he doesn’t.
When he speaks, he aims to hurt. “You have no idea what it was like,” Jason says. “I crawled my way out of my own grave.”
This should not be news to anyone, but Bruce still flinches.
Jason grins, all teeth. “I remember it, sometimes. It took hours. I was screaming the whole time. I tore off all my fingernails, you know. Even when I was Robin, the most any torturer got to was four. But I lost ten, and I kept digging.” The Replacement looks like he’s going to be sick. Good. “Up and up and up. I knew I wasn’t gonna make it, you see. You can’t force your way out of your own grave. Mythbusters did an episode on it, yeah? So I had to scoop the dirt away, but I knew I wasn’t gonna have enough air for that. But I kept digging, because I thought—I thought maybe someone would find me, and if I made it just a little bit easier for them—”
“I’m sorry,” Batman says roughly. “Jason, I’m so sorr—"
Jason ignores him. It feels good to ignore an apology from Batman, instead of being grateful for whatever scraps of contrition the man can manage. “I don’t know how I did it. It should’ve been impossible. I think maybe I suffocated, and just came back to life and kept digging again, and suffocated again, and—”
“Stop,” Batman orders.
“Things are fuzzier, after I made it out. But I remember I was cold. So, so cold. It was raining. And I felt like I was as cold as a corpse, like life hadn’t properly warmed me up yet. And I didn’t know where I was going. I couldn’t walk, so I just crawled. I just crawled, Bruce, and then I stood up, and then I walked. A few hours before, I was being beaten to death with a crowbar. I thought someone would find me then. No one did. And I was still stupid enough to think someone would find me that second time.”
Robin’s right hand drifts toward Batman, like he’s going to try to cling to his mentor’s cape, before he clearly thinks better of it and withdraws his hand as if burnt. Batman growls. He doesn’t sound entirely human.
“You know nothing, Bruce,” Jason spits. “Nothing.”
---
Jason is in a coffin. He can smell the dirt around him, and he’s too lucid for that to be entirely an olfactory hallucination. He’s in a coffin, and he’s buried underground.
Although Jason wouldn’t put it past certain Rogues and crime families to bury someone alive, he’s in a suit and he isn’t wearing anything to disguise his identity. He has to face the facts.
Jason can feel phantom pains in his fingers, his lungs burning for oxygen before he’s even begun to truly run out of air.
Jason should probably start digging. But he doesn’t.
It’s quiet, in this coffin, just the sounds of his own ragged breaths. Jason knows that the first time around, he screamed. And when he couldn’t scream anymore, he cried, and when he couldn’t cry, he pleaded in hoarse whispers for someone, anyone, Bruce, Dick, Dad, please, please—
Jason realizes he isn’t breathing anymore and forces himself to inhale, wheezing like a dying man. Hah. He already died. At least twice. Probably—probably more. If he came back this time, how many times in the past have his “brushes with death” in fact taken him past its threshold?
But in the past, he seized his chance at life with both hands. This time…this time…
The universe brought him back for a reason. But it isn’t the Joker, and it isn’t Batman, and it isn’t Gotham. And Jason—Jason had been glad to fulfill it, whatever it was. He’d taken his second chance and used it, used himself as kindling to start whatever fire the universe desired. But he’s fucking tired of being burnt. Speaking of burning—
No one told Jason to write a will. He knows Dick has one and Bruce, of course, has one. Alfred has one, Barbara has one, even Cassandra Cain has one, although she has little to her name. Jason knows it’s standard vigilante/superhero procedure to have your affairs in order. But no one could work up the willpower—heh, willpower—to approach Jason and ask that he prepare for a second death.
Jason wrote a will anyway. Legally, he doesn’t exist. He has a small amount of money in various fake identities, but most of his funds aren’t exactly something he can distribute in a will. But he doesn’t much care what happens to them after his death. No, he wrote the will after one too many nightmares about his resurrection. That night, he picked up a pen and scribbled feverishly in his notebook that he wanted to be cremated. And Jason woke up in the morning and looked at it and thought, yeah, that’s fair. So he made it about as official as it could get.
Right now, it’s really fucking clear that he hasn’t been cremated.
Jason should start digging. But he doesn’t.
Death was supposed to mean that he was done. Cremation was supposed to ensure that. Jason just wants to be done. He thinks he deserves that much, at least. 
Jason thinks, what if I just lay here? Last time, he took his chance to live. What good did that do him? He didn’t get revenge, he didn’t get proof that Bruce cared, hell, he didn’t even properly protect Crime Alley. His dad always told Jason that he had to grow up to be something, “not like your old man.” But one time when he was drunk, Willis looked straight at Jason and said, “you’re never gonna amount to anything” and Jason had never figured out if his father had been talking to Jason or himself. Jason had thought, with Robin, that he mattered. But he was replaced as easy as can be. He never mattered. He squandered his first life, and he failed at his second, and really, Jason thinks, what’s the point of a third?
Jason wonders what will happen if he just stays here. Good corpses stay still. Good corpses don’t dig their way out of graves. Jason’s been dead twice now. He should be a pro at being a corpse.
It’s always been hard to do nothing. The same impulse that urged Jason to take his tire iron to the Batmobile makes his hands twitch to start digging. He’s wasting valuable time. Jason’s always been a do-er, and now he needs to not do anything. He’s always been a survivor, and now he has to lay down and die.
Jason should really start digging. But he doesn’t.
He is done being a zombie, a revenant, a walking memorial. He shouldn’t have come back that first time. The universe put things right and now Jason has to prevent her from having second thoughts.
---
“What the hell was that?” The Replacement shouts, one hand tight around his bo staff and the other clenched into a fist.
“I don’t answer to you,” Jason sneers. He folds his arms across his chest. Fuck it. This is a waste of time. He leans down to snap a ziptie over wrists of one of the less injured traffickers. The sooner he cleans up, the sooner he can get out of this warehouse.
“This is my route, so according to protocol, you do,” Tim insists.
“Yeah, I don’t follow protocol.” Jason gestures at the criminals bleeding all over the warehouse floor. None of them are dead. Probably.
“Clearly, or else you wouldn’t have engaged!”
“I made an informed decision.”
“No, you didn’t. You entered the middle of a freaking firefight, Hood, without your helmet, and you didn’t know you had backup.”
“It was fine.”
“Because I was there! Which you didn’t know, because you refuse to be on our comms.”
“I don’t need you.”
“Hood, do you not see how insane what you just did was? Or do you just not care?”
Jason bristles. “What, concerned about the poor widdle traffickers?”
Tim throws his hands into the air, like Jason’s the one being difficult. “That’s not what I’m talking about! I don’t care about them!”
Jason feels his lips twitch into a smirk, and before he knows it, he’s drawn a gun from its holster and trained it on the goon at his feet. His smirk widens into a grin at Tim’s flinch. “Oh, really? Guess I’ll just take out some trash then.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Tim says, voice carefully measured. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Well, that’s one way to ensure that Tim never gets to his actual point. Jason flicks the safety off. The click echoes through the warehouse.
“Stop it,” the kid tries to order. Jason’s finger twitches on the trigger. “Please, Hood. Don’t do this.”
Jason shrugs and clicks the safety on, as if it doesn’t physically pain him to leave this scum alive. He knew he wasn’t going to kill anyone the second he dropped down from the rafters, and unlike what Batman thinks, he has self-control.
The Replacement tries to hide his relief, but he does a piss-poor job of it. “That was reckless,” Tim says. “Really, really reckless, and you know it.”
Jason turns around without a word. He doesn’t have to deal with this shit.
“I’ll have to tell B.”
Jason really doesn’t need a lecture from Bruce, but he can just avoid the cave until Bruce gets distracted by something equally reckless Tim does. Or, well, probably not equally reckless—Jason’s well-aware that what he did is pretty close to the edge of the ‘reckless’ spectrum, straddling the line between ‘reckless’ and, well, ‘suicidal.’ But equally stupid, at least. The Replacement seems like a dumb kid.
“I’ll tell Nightwing,” Tim tries desperately, and that makes Jason spin around. Because shit, Nightwing would hunt him down and not be satisfied just giving a lecture. He’d want to talk about feelings.
“Fine,” Jason huffs. “What do you want? A safehouse? Files? Me off this case?”
“I want you to stay alive, because believe it or not, I’d like Batman to not have another mental breakdown.”
Yeah, right. Like that would happen. Batman would still have his precious display case, and he cares far more about the dead kid than the Red Hood.
“Bruce can’t lose his son again,” Tim says, and Jason just—he can’t do this. His vision whites out. He has to leave. So he leaves.
When Jason finally registers the thuds of his boots, he’s three long blocks away from the warehouse. Whatever. The Replacement’s not going to go crying to Nightwing about Hood being a little reckless. If anything, he’ll be pleased.
---
Jason swallows. If he’s going to die, he might as well use up his air faster. Less time to wait. “It is a truth universally acknowledged…”
He recites the first chapter of Pride and Prejudice. Darkness by Lord Byron. Sings You Are My Sunshine five times. Waiting to die is a slow, slow thing, and every second, his entire body is screaming dig, save yourself, survive!
There’s a sound above him, strange thumping. Maybe, Jason thinks, it’s raining. That would be…not ironic, but there’s a strange sort of circle to it, isn’t there? He was born on a rainy day, and Catherine arrived at the hospital soaked. He was reborn in the rain. If he had dug up, he would have been born yet again in the rain. The opposite of a phoenix.
Bruce should have cremated him. Jason doesn’t even know that he won’t just suffocate and then wake up again, but this time with no air. An endless loop of suffocation. The thought sends a thrill of terror through Jason. He regrets not digging.
But if he wakes up again, Jason supposes, then he’ll make his way out. It’ll hurt, but he can take his time. And then after, after, he’ll find a fire. And then he won’t have to remember how much it hurt.
The thought should be comforting, but Jason just feels terrified, and afraid, and alone. He wonders where they buried him this time. Last time, he’d been next to Sheila. But he’d screamed at Bruce for it, so maybe, maybe this time it’s somewhere else. Next to his mom, his real mom, even. Not that Bruce seemed to particularly care about Jason’s wishes, when he was actually real and not just a memorial caged within rose-tinted glass. After all, he’d asked to be cremated.
Jason closes his eyes. Everything feels detached, out of phase. He isn’t sure if it’s oxygen deprivation setting in or a side-effect of his resurrection, or just the strangeness of the scenario. He’s tired. That could be any one of the three as well.
How did I die? Jason wonders. He strains for his memories. The taste of rocky road ice cream from his favorite ice cream shop. Tim laughing. Flashes of blinding light. None of it is an answer. None of it explains what happened.
The thuds are getting louder. Jason wonders if it’s hail. Last he remembers, it was June. If it’s winter now, he supposes six months have passed. Maybe more. Maybe he’s been dead for years.
“I’m tired,” Jason whispers. “I’m so tired.” He blinks. His vision tilts. Definitely oxygen deprivation.
It’s almost over.
And then Jason hears—Jason hears voices and there’s a light, but it’s dim, and there are shadows falling on him. Jason lies there. He wonders if this is what he saw right before he died the second time. The first time, he just saw flames, seared across his eyelids.
“Jason,” someone says. They sound horrified.
That’s his name. Jason doesn’t respond. What’s the point?
“Hold on.”
This dream doesn’t make much sense. Jason hopes it’ll be over soon.
Something grasps his arms and pulls. No. No, Jason has to stay. Corpses have to stay in their graves. If he doesn’t stay, then he’ll have to come back, and he’ll just ruin it again. He has to stay. “No,” Jason can hear himself babbling. “No, let me go, let me—no. I have to. I have to go back.”
“Jason, calm down.”
“No!” Jason shouts, desperately. He throws out a kick and dives forwards, eyes closed. Strong arms catch him around the waist and hold him close, pulling him against someone’s chest. “No, I have to go back! Please!”
“Jason, open your eyes!”
Jason’s eyes snap open and he sees—
Batman. Nightwing. Robin. It’s all wrong.
Jason doubles over. “Please,” he sobs. “I have to go back. You need to let me go back.”
“You’re okay, Jason,” Batman says in his ear, but his voice is all Bruce. “You’re alive.”
“Yeah, that’s the fucking problem.” Dick startles. Jason must’ve said that out loud. “Please,” he whispers.
The first time he dug himself out of his own grave, Jason’s voice was gone by the time he made it to the surface. This time, someone else dug him out, but no one will listen when he speaks.
Jason slumps in Bruce’s hold, and they just…stand there. Eventually, Bruce slowly sets Jason on the ground and kneels down in front of him. 
Jason’s heartbeat pounds in his ear. It’s wrong. His heart shouldn’t be beating. It’s wrongwrongwrongwrong. Desperately, Jason claws at his wrists, trying to dig the heartbeat out. It has to go away. Someone tugs at his hand and Jason snatches it away and cradles his hand against his chest. His pulse continues to tear him apart.
“Jason,” Bruce says. “Do you know where you are right now?”
“A fucking graveyard, right?” Jason says. His eyes burn. He refuses to wipe at them. He can feel the hard, rocky dirt beneath him. He wants to be numb again. He shouldn’t be here. He should be underground.
There’s a sharp silence. “We’re not in a graveyard, Little Wing,” Dick says, eventually.
Jason looks around slowly. His vision feels disconnected, and it takes several moments for each image to register. But there are no gravestones around, just trees, trees and sky. It’s dark out. He thinks, when he looks up, he can almost see the stars. He doesn’t understand. “Then why am I in a suit?”
“Do you remember the gala?” Tim asks, so quietly that Jason almost doesn’t hear him. In fact, it sounds more like “…oo…ber…gala?” with the rest being lost underneath the Replacement’s breath, but Jason figures that’s what he’s saying. Jason shakes his head. 
Dick takes a step closer. “The paparazzi saw us out in Gotham four days ago. With you. You…there was a gala tonight. Bruce convinced you to go with us. And then you went missing. We thought you walked out early. But then…well, Tim was working on a case, and…well…”
“A weird cult thought you were a zombie,” Tim says, when it becomes clear that Dick’s not going to explain anything properly. “So they knocked you out, did a ritual, and re-buried you.”
This is real, Jason thinks suddenly, and then he’s doubled over, retching. Nothing comes out except spit. He can feel grass beneath his hands. When he curls his fingers, he scrapes up dirt. “This is real,” Jason says aloud. “This is real. This is real.”
“This is real,” Dick confirms. Jason retches again.
This is real. Jason doesn’t know what to say.
Tim sighs. “We need to take you to the police.”
Bruce shakes his head. “We need to talk.” His voice is dark. Jason shudders.
“Not like this, Bruce,” Dick says. “Not with the cowl on. Jason, are you good to deal with questions right now?”
“I don’t remember much.” Jason tugs at his tie in the stifling heat. Across the room, Tim is talking to a group of teenage boys and making large, animated gestures. Jason stumbles, catching himself on a nearby table.
“That’s fine, Jay,” Dick says. “We recovered security footage and we have confessions. We’ll be there in civies as soon as we can, okay?”
Jason shrugs. Someone helps him to his feet.
---
On the rooftop, Dick places a hand over Jason’s. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true,” Jason says quietly. “I shouldn’t have come back.”
“You’re wrong,” Dick says. He sounds so sure. But that’s the first Robin. He’s sure about everything. Jason could never measure up.
“Jason Todd was better off without me insulting his memory.”
“Who cares about a memory?” Dick scoffs. “You’re alive.”
“Tell that to Bruce.”
“Tell that to yourself,” Dick says. “You’re alive, Jason. You’re alive. Don’t you see how amazing that is? All of us—me, Bruce, Tim, Alfred—we’re so happy that you’re alive.”
“I don’t believe you,” Jason says. He believes that Dick believes it. He believes that Dick has to believe it, that Dick won’t admit to himself that he wishes Jason was still dead. Dick will always ignore his darker thoughts. But Jason knows. Jason knows Dick would be happier if Jason never came back. And Bruce? The man doesn’t even think that Jason counts as Jason anymore. Alfred no doubt can see that something in Jason is deeply, deeply wrong—sociopathic tendencies, Talia had theorized, although Jason suspects he’s far beyond tendencies. And Tim has no reason to wish his murderous predecessor well, not after the Tower. So, no, Jason doesn’t believe Dick.
“You will,” Dick says. “I promise.”
Jason stares into the sky. He thinks maybe, just maybe, he can see a star.
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hannahssimblr · 2 days
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Michelle has been crying for a week.
Seemingly non-stop.
Tuesday evening, which was once about trigonometry and calculus, is when I currently find myself sitting awkwardly on Jen’s bed, alone, while she consoles her sobbing friend in the room next door for half an hour, and my iPod is out of battery.
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“He’s here?” Michelle cries at one point, and Jen replies something gentle, muffled through the plasterboard wall. Probably a justification for my presence in her house, which is clearly not welcome even though I’m not actually forcing her to endure me when I’m in an entirely separate room. 
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Jen comes back a few minutes later looking frazzled, bags under her eyes as if she has been the one kept up at night with a broken heart, wailing over the skinny emo boy who cheated on her with an even skinnier emo girl. This house has been like a battlefield for days, with even Rahim and Debra retreating to the relative safety of the conservatory in case their rampaging daughter decides to come into the kitchen for a snack and shriek at either of them for not replacing the Nutella she’s been living off or starts hurling around accusations that her white sliced bread has been purloined.
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“You alright?” 
“Yeah, she’s just being Michelle. Extra Michelle. Michelle XL.”
“Didn’t sound like she was too happy about me being here.”
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“Yeah well,” Jen steps forward and collapses sideways onto the bed, “She can get over it, I want you here.”
“I’m flattered,” I gently fix her fringe, “I’m just not really certain what I did wrong. I thought I did the exact right thing, actually.”
“Yeah but I told you before, there’s normal logic and then there’s Michelle Logic. That’s why I wanted you to be the one to tell her, she was bound to shoot the messenger.”
“Thanks.”
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“It’s fair enough, I live with her. Can you imagine if it was me who broke the news?”
“...Do you think the end is in sight?”
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“For this level of devastation? I dunno. She’s never been heartbroken before. First cut is the deepest, right?”
I shrug, “For me it wasn’t so bad.”
“Okay well, you haven’t been in love properly.”
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“Okay…”
“Sorry but you can’t be an authority on this. Michelle properly loved Evan. He was her everything.”
“He was a fucking knob.”
“Yeah, clearly, but she didn’t know that, and she still loved him. Loves him.”
“He doesn’t deserve to be cried over like this.”
“Tell that to her. Or actually, don’t tell that to her. Don’t tell her anything. Stay a mile away from her until further notice.”
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I sigh, “You can't keep us away from each other forever, like, eventually she’s going to emerge from her hovel of despair and find me sitting on the couch, or talking to her dad in the kitchen, it’s not like I’m going to be able to completely vanish from sight forever and ever. I also live five minutes down the road…” I shake her as she turns away to flip through a music magazine,  “and we go to the same school…”
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“Yeah, I know, but all this stuff is girl stuff. You’re not supposed to be allowed to see it. You’re only here because you have special Tuesday night privileges.”
I scoff. “I’ve seen girls crying before.”
“Yeah, because of you.”
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I toss myself down on the covers and wiggle my way into her eye line, “one day some horrible little bastard might break my sister’s heart, and on that day, when she’s crying and wailing over him, she won’t have anybody to talk to about it but me, and I’ll just turn to her and say ‘hey, sorry Ivy, this is girl shit! Can’t help you!’ Is this the future you want?”
Jen lifts the magazine and whaps me in the face with a full page spread of Amy Winehouse. “You’re so thick.”
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I clutch my nose, “Ow! Fuck sake. I think you’re being stupid thinking like that, as if I’m not surrounded by girls at all times. You’re the one who always bangs on and on about feminism, but you’re the one creating a divide between the sexes, can’t you see that? You think I don’t care about girl stuff, like I can’t be around Michelle when she’s heartbroken? I do care.”
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“The only girl stuff you care about is tits and fannies.”
“You’re foul.”
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She giggles and goes back to her magazine at the same moment Michelle begins to blast a Paramore CD in the room next door. It’s so loud that it vibrates the walls. 
Debra’s screaming only adds to the chaos. “Michelle, my god, turn it down.” She pleads to no avail, and then I hear her thundering up the stairs and pounding on her daughter's door. “Not again! We’re trying to watch the news!”
“Well, there they go again,” Jen comments without lifting her eyes from her article. “You sure you want to walk right into her lair?”
Beginning // Prev // Next
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Stark Tower Field Trip Rec
It seems like everybody has a Stark Tower Field Trip rec, and I just realized that I never made one. I know this trope is like, 5 years old, but I still find myself reading Stark Tower Field Trip fics today, so I’d figure I’d make my own rec of my favorites. So here they are!
Field Trips and Lab Days
By: BundiBirds
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32638660
Summary: What Peter’s trying to say is: he didn’t know that today’s tour group was going to be Midtown High. Ned knew, but didn’t say anything because he’s a traitor, and MJ knew, but didn’t say anything because she loves chaos, and look, the point is, Peter did not expect to glance up from the guts of one of Tony’s prototypes and come face to face with his entire class, staring at him through the glass.
My Comments: Yes, this is a field trip to Stark Tower fic. It’s a pretty nice short fic if you’re looking for a quick read. It doesn’t really have much of the “tour” part of Stark Industries, but more so of the class’s astonishment that Peter was telling the truth about the internship. You do need an AO3 account to read this fic.
Status: Complete
Length: 3,184 words
From Your Perspective, the World is Flat
By: Bleuh
https://archiveofourown.orgs/works/19835743
Summary: Peter successfully goes on a field trip, accidentally catches the school bleachers, survives a bus explosion, and reveals his identity as Spider-Man… Not necessarily in that order, much to the confusion of his entire decathlon team. 
My Comments: This is another field trip fic. And it is a Spider-Man reveal. This fic is pretty great, and I love the take they did on Peter being held hostage. I also love the relationship Peter has with the rest of the decathlon team. This is part of a series, so I’ll link that down below.
Status: Complete
Length: 18,378 words
Series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1497719
Sequel: Peter Parker’s Guide to Secret Identity Fails -- https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798489
It’s Above My Clearance Level
By: Tsk
https://archiveofourown.org/works/15732231
Summary: In which Peter’s class goes on a field trip to Stark Tower, and no one knows why this kid has such a high clearance
My Comments: This here was actually the first Stark Tower Field Trip fic I read, and was what made me fall in love with the trope to begin with. It has everything you could want, with Peter knowing Friday, the classmates being nosy, and Flash’s reaction was just priceless. Plus it had a few additional details that I just loved.
Status: Complete
Length: 5,026 words
Air Force
By: Pomegranateboy
https://archiveofourown.org/works/18078857
Summary: Peter has never really had a good time on field trips, this one appears to be the exception.
My Comments: While this fic isn’t really a Stark Tower field trip fic, I do think it deserves a place on this rec. In this fic Peter and the class go to the air force and see Rhodey instead. And it has other additional gems in it, from Peter solving impossible equations and being a self defense prodigy. It’s really a delight all around that I highly recommend. 
Status: Complete
Length: 2,935 words
Peter’s Field Trip & More
By: Climbergirlio
https://archiveofown.org/works/17593775
Summary: Peter receives a permission slip for a field trip to the Avenger’s Compound. And that’s before a photo of him and Tony leaks, and before he starts a Stark Inter Twitter Account, and before Bucky bugs him and finds out his whole school thinks he’s a liar, and before Tony decides he’s going to prove Peter’s Internship is real, and before his school visits his second home. At least Peter has his crazy protective super-family to get him through it, though. 
My Comments: I think that the summary just about says it all. This fic has everything you could want from it. And I really love how they pulled the social media aspect into it. And not to mention Peter’s entire school thinking he was a liar and then eating their words. Overall this fic is just magnificent. I definitely recommend giving this one a read.
Status: Complete
Length: 14,751 words
21 notes · View notes
wanderfan2000 · 2 days
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The Depression - WanderFan2000′s Side of The Story
Before I get started with this, I need to say for the sake of my viewers. What I’m about to talk about is MY side of this Tumblr drama that’s been going on around here regarding me and my love for the Wander Over Yonder episode, “The Lonely Planet”.  Keep in mind when I first read the post, I felt depression, flabbergasted and shock all take me over. I couldn’t shake it off and it still continues to take me over this morning. So, without further ado, let’s begin with…
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“Why do I have depression?” you might ask. Well, I’ll explain…
I was looking at the “Wander Over Yonder” tag like I always do when I came across a post written by a fellow tumblr blogger, it involved a question with highlighted words as I clicked on it, I never thought I’d find myself in the MIDDLE of a Tumblr drama war.
The story in particular was all about my countless obsession with “The Lonely Planet.” It even included pictures of questions I told some other WOY fan about the episode and how I wanted them to draw fan art of the episode. Then I started reading more, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing… 
The blogger was explaining how the lonely planet artwork, the questions, everything related to said episode was basically just a giant huge pot of NSFW content and many other things. I didn’t quite understand it, but once I did, shock and depression took over my body. 
Now that I’ve gotten the backstory out of the way, let me explain MY SIDE of the story…
First of all, everyone should know that I would NEVER in my lifetime do ANYTHING to harm Wander, he’s a character who I love and will love forever. I clearly don’t understand why on earth the Wander fandom wants to go against me, especially after seeing what I have been doing regarding my fan artwork of a sentient talking planet we’ve only seen in ONE episode and especially, the thing about me not giving a hoot about the opinion! 
But there’s no need to attack me or say anything about it. Just because I’m obsessed with an episodes of Wander that involve him getting captured by a lonely, sentient planet who ties him up with plant vines DOESN’T mean that I obsess with these episodes MORE than the entire series. I love the WOY series as a whole, each episode is unique and special in their own way, plus I always get a laugh out of a lot of them.  Now, lemme talk about my art work of Wander and Janet: 
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One thing I’d like to point out that whenever I draw Wander and Janet together nowadays, I draw them as Forever Friends. Because I like to think that Janet enjoys loving over Wander as a friend rather than trying to force him to love her. NTM, she has Maurice as her husband now.  Now I understand that a lot of folks aren’t fans of the whole “plant vines tying around Wander’s wrists ofc, many of them aren’t fan of the vines touching his face ether”. In fact, in a deleted storyboard, there was going to be a scene where Wander was completely surrounded by plant vines. It even mentions that the vines were going to be stroking his face. This never made it into the final episode, tho. Thank grop, I can’t even imagine what the fandom would’ve done with THAT. 
But anyway, the plant vines in all my fanart for this episode aren’t stroking Wander at all, they are cuddling him sweetly. (Well, in Janet’s defense.) Because the vines love him just like Janet loves her forever friend. 
Yes, I know it’s a lot to take in, but I wanted to express my feelings for what I do whenever I draw fanart for Janet. 
Listen, guys, I apologize for any convenience that my artwork, questions and screenshots centered around this episode have made you all uncomfortable. But you need to keep in mind that it is still based on the episode with a different twist: Janet is now obsessed with having Wander as her FRIEND, NOT keeping him as her lover. I mean, sure, I draw artwork based on what happened in the actual episode, but it’s fun to draw something different that Janet can obsess with Wander.  The thing is I don’t want you to view me as a bad person, especially someone who you think is obsessive with fetish. But I am NOT OBSESSED WITH ANY OF THAT! I don’t want to draw A N Y T H I N G that could cause a problem in the fandom. 
Also, the artwork that I draw of The Lonely Planet in particular, talking about it, screenshots I share, I keep all of this FRIENDLY! I don’t want them to be viewed as “NSFW” content because I would NEVER do anything to upset you guys out there, you are all my FRIENDS and I LOVE all of you! 
So, please, don’t block me just because of my obsession. I’m a friendly person who wants to love everyone I meet on here. I’m sorry if the thing I did made everyone upset and uncomfortable. I won’t do it again. 
- WanderFan2000 
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simgerale · 8 days
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me after attempting to get back into sims and realizing i had a lot more to do than play the game
#hi everyone#I’m going around hugging you all#okay now that we are gathered here today#i will simply acknowledge that i have been gone for a very long time and then also acknowledge that maybe it was for the best#i relied on sims to be my only creative activity even if i tried to write a book at the same time#and also. i prioritized sims over real life responsibilities. that’s just a deadly combination lol#but I recently noticed I just replaced sims with Netflix. with YouTube. with anything that gave me quick dopamine#literally became addicted in a sense. still am but I’ve been cut cold turkey from most everything#I get off work and go. okay I’ve done the dishes and the laundry……..I could read or write or bake….#I try to write and sometimes i get a good hour#then I read for a few hours and then get tired of it#and I made cookies Tuesday so I’m waiting for those to be gone before baking again#I’m just so pitiful that I feel BORED and don’t know what to do#so I said….. okay what if I do sims for an hour.#I downloaded some new cc Tuesday and tried to play yesterday#y’all ……………….. I can’t find the energy anymore to set up elaborate scenes and pose my sims and plan posts#I said wow… this is boring without my intervention and fake story#I said wow…….. all this for what? for tumblr? yes I created cool things and provided joy. but is that inherintly important compared to my#own joy? my own everyday activities I should be doing?#y’all I do not leave the house unless we got out to eat or shop or travel to our parents#.. I have little desire to. I’m trying to find that desire#but my husband is busy with grad school and work and I don’t want to do anything by myself#I’ve found myself in one heck of a slump#I didn’t want to be human for awhile. just had no desires no interests no ambitions#I was slacking off SO HARD at work. I just had no drive to do well#I’m still working on it. I’m still trying to get caught up. I’m still trying to force myself to move every day.#but I am struggling y’all. and I can tell you that sims… sims isn’t helping rn but I want it to so bad. I want to get back into it#I didn’t mean to disappear on everyone. I got married and then life got busy and then I fell into this hole of nothing#I didn’t even WANT to crawl my way out. but my husband has helped a lot. I feel like such a child!!!!#I reached max tags. 🙃 bye love you all. till next time
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briarhips · 10 months
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Think I reacted a bit too strongly to getting teased abt one day inevitably having kids (multiple) and inevitably upending my carefully made future life for some random hypothetical guy one day but also. Why are ppl such FREAKS and why do I have to put up w this kind of boundary pushing shit so often
#mine#u want me to have sex and give birth and discard everything I care abt for a handsome face sooo bad it’s weird to push it when u KNOW my#stance. shut up ? fucking shut up#that u only know bc you’ve pushed me before and essentially forced me to say if#I mean that’s basically how they described it minus the sex part. enough bullshit abt getting swept off my feet I genuinely want to maim#like do u dream abt it or smth? u bring it up way too fucking often. freaks.#grown adults acting juvenile#like. I did not invite this cheap interpretation of humor at all… two grown women discussing how ur feet don’t shrink back to their og size#after pregnancy and one of them (the one most obsessed w asking me if what I’m busy w is a date whenever I can’t clock in. insulting on#10+ lvls but anyway) eyed me and goes when u have kids you’ll understand. and then she can’t leave it at that she just keeps fucking talking#and the other chimes in too#if I end up betraying myself like that I’ve failed at life in an irreparable way. the end#literally I’ll mention a friend has a brother and she’ll be like does he have a crush on u. die#she also said you’ll meet a guy and he’ll look like Aladdin bc she’s a Disney adult and not aware of how racist and lame she is LMAO 🔪#this was at work tbc. other lady is a recent mother and was like I also thought I didn’t want kids. u are more irresponsible than I that’s#why u got one at the very last min and it’s a happy accident you actually decided u love it gr8 for u genuinely but we are not the same. lol#actually I’m glad I was accidentally harsh in response. lmao. shut them the hell up and next time I’m going to the back room or smth#I’m suicidal I am staying alive for a hypothetical future that I will build even if it’s an unpopular and less rewarding route#and I am not abt to change that route for other sick ppl… ofc nobody knows that part but they shouldnt have to#nobody wants to believe a girl for saying anything but kids and a husband matters to her it’s so fucking bleak u get it from white and desis#just. everyone. I feel so fucking gross 😭#like silly fucking girl ur gonna drop everything for a face + a wallet. nothing stronger is necessary to compel u to bend. fuck u ❤️#after the rishta business this is more triggering than ever
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potayto-chips · 3 months
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i see you rb a lot of ppls ducksonas/ocs and i was wondering if you have one? if so id love to see it !! /nf
seeing this ask made me realise that yes actually, i do have dt ocs. however i forgot about all of them completely agksksjsk
so i looked through my old art to find some art of my forgotten ocs. you’re welcome (or my apologies. it depends)
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so first off we have trinity, my OLD DUCKSONA!!! and her magical mentors or something idk. (their names are tilly and tempest. guess who’s who) from what i remember i think these two are like. her two sides but also her older sister figures. at the same time. somehow. idfk know man. also the mentors aren’t real i think they’re like spirits??? they’re the source of magic for this super cool magical double scythe that trinity has (that i didn’t draw)
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^ something like this bad boy
idk the lore is confusing i think i’ll have to change it LMAO
yeah so my head already hurts so onto the next ones
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next up we have FANKIDSSS bc i’m the most original oc maker on the planet. their names are Jet, Turbo and Rebel (i like the idea of them getting the names Della wanted for her kids) they’re Dewey’s kids (as you can see i transgendered Jet bc i can) there’s also a weblena child lol her name is Seren/Reni i think. she’s a guitarist if i remember correctly. Lena calls her rockstar <3
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^ also we have these guys who are llewerius biological kids?? don’t ask me how idk. their names are Emerald (left) and Jade (right) they also have an adopted bear brother named Isaac who i didn’t draw because the thought of drawing bears scared me at the time. i like them tbh i might repurpose them. they’re cute. i’m probably gonna redesign them too cause 💀. yeah
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and lastly we have these fuckers: some white girl named Lissy and genderfluid icon Morgan. Lissy is a cheerleader who has a guy best friend i forgot the name of. Morgan is one of those quiet art kids who makes their own clothes. i don’t remember why i made them lol
editing this bc HOW DID I FORGET RAMIZ. LETTER FOR LOUIE GUY
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blorbo from my fic (you can read it here if y’all want) nicknamed soup simp bc when i asked my friends who were beta reading my fic for a placeholder name for him they said soup. so. soup guy
yea so i might redesign + repurpose most of these guys so y’all may be seeing them again lol. thank u anon for reminding me about their existence
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pepprs · 11 months
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beaver gnawing on wood noises
#purrs#delete later#this is gonna be a bad / hard post and i’ll have to delete it. like it feels like in making it im invoking cosmic forces to show me karma or#idk like being an ingrate or whatever. but sometimes i find myself on social media rabbitholes looking at instagram pages of.. women who#like really genuinely appear to be good moms to their kids. and love them for who they are and don’t try to make them anything different.#and who celebrate their quirks and stuff. and even share interests with them at the bare minimum. and it just makes me want to sob. like the#knot in my throat. i shouldn’t do it bc i just hurt myself but it’s like. im so lucky i have a mom and that she provides for me. and i know#there are valid reasons for that being all she can do. but also why can’t she… idk.why can’t she ummm love me. or celebrate me. or find#magic in me. or at the very least accept my humanness and be open to me like giving her feedback on stuff. even tonight at this panel this o#one woman was like yeah my two daughters call me on stuff and im like you’re right. if i called my mom on stuff (and i do) she would give me#the silent treatment (and she has) or eviscerate me (and she has). and people in my work life and on here call me endearing and say all#these things. but it’s like none of it can fill up the absolute aching pulsing void that is… my mom. my mom!!!!! is just a person i live#with anr resent most of the time. who has hurt me so badly. and i could have had a mom who like. let me sing and didn’t mock me for it.#and who came in and said goodnight to me and my sister instead of leaving us to o ur own devices because we’re twins and we had each other.#and 14 years ago today was the day that fully cemented in that she could not be that kind of mom and would never be. and i know she tried so#hard and i know she has been hurt and is still hurting. but i just want to scream. like everyone deserves a mom who loves them for who they#are and shit. and how fucking unfair is it that.. like it sounds so selfish and entitled. b it how fucking unfair is it that i got a mom who#im afraid of and then there are people like fucking… m*lissa err*co and sh*ron wh*atley (those are just the famous ones) who by all#appearances seem to be like.. not only loving but open. seeing their children as human and magic all at once. instead of a war prize and a#symbol of their own hardships or whatever. like it’s just so fucking unfair. i hate that this is the way things are for me and that it will#never change and that if it ever does i have to be the one to change it or i have to heal from it and let go of it. like FUCK that! i want#love from my mom! FUCK the fact that she can’t give it to me!!! she has to!!!!!! but she won’t. idk. delete post <3#like so genuinely i should not be even typing these words bc god is gonna smite me now lol. but my heart is howling#and the shitty thing is i don’t think i’ll be able to be that kind of mom if i ever become one bc of how badly all of this has hurt me. and#bc of all that i don’t even think i want to become a mom anymore bc i don’t want to be the reason a child feels this way or grows up to.
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transboykirito · 8 months
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i’ve committed to the bit so here’s what i’m working with for kinktober this year
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roaringroa · 9 months
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so grateful that i managed to restrain myself from properly falling in love with my friend and contained my feelings to a common crush
#she’s just started going out with a guy that i think is really going to last#he’s her friend and i met him quite a few times so i know he’s real sweet and will treat her well and i’m happy about that#i’m actually ecstatic that my feelings for her are shallow because we met up and she talked all about how her date with him went#and i swear she told me he and i are similar like 4 times throughout the conversation#which made me go ouch inside but nothing more#if i liked her more i would have been distraught lmao#and also she told me about when she wasn’t feeling well and he took her to the station and offered to pay the uber that would bring her home#that was really expansive so she wouldn’t take the bus#and she refused and went by bus but told me that was so sweet and that’s when she realized he liked her cause who would do that for her?#and i didn’t say anything but when she started the story i thought she was gonna say that he went in the bus with her to take her home#which is like 1 hour away from our uni cause that’s what i would have done lol#anyway now that she’s got a boyfriend it’s only a matter of time till this crush properly goes away and i can’t wait#i know that the heart chooses what it wants and etc but i think i’m pretty good at nipping my feelings in the bud#like i can’t force them not to exist but when i know that it won’t lead to anything i’m good at stopping myself from fantasizing#or from being overly affectionate and things along those lines#which doesn’t make them go away but hinders their growth#the thing is if i think that i have a chance then i cannot stop myself#and then they grow and grow and grow#and it takes me wayyyy too long to get over it#like it took me 2 years to get over a girl that i did not even date lol#it was really tough for me honestly#and that’s why i’m really careful with my feelings now#i never actually thought i’d have a chance with this friend so that’s why i could keep myself from really falling#anyway i do wish my friend and her bf the best like he’s an actual nice guy and her last bf was definitely not which sucked#and once again i need a tinder account lmao#my post
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mintmentos · 1 year
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Not to be controversial but like what’s the actual point of a 2 minute silence. I can guarantee no ones sat there actually thinking about the war, and we don’t gain anything from it either?
Literature from the time and written by people directly affected by war has much more of an impact and actually shows you what the war was actually like, but yeah sure I guess having everyone in the country sit in silence and think about how they’d much rather be doing literally anything else is also a valid way to honour the dead
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goldensunset · 1 year
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i envy the people who have no shame self-reblogging their own art dozens of times every now and then. for me it’s like ok i get three shots at this and if still nobody cares about it after that i’m just gonna give up and save myself any further embarrassment
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itsukicoded · 1 year
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oh right i was supposed to check my old vision board from last year…
#even though it is important to set intentions for the new year i think it’s more important to be realistic and to be honest#plus last year i didn’t work towards anything i wanted bc i didn’t want people to look at the things i had in mind so i was misaligned from#the beginning. though i do value secrecy….it doesn’t have to coincide w dishonesty#in the end i could achieve anything bc i still don’t know how to be a beginner in front of other people#but hopefully this year i can manage my split a little better ive been simultaneously indulging & neglecting my internal self a lot#and since that’s the part of me i want to protect im gonna have to be less and less exciting and giggly so that maybe the outer & inner self#can at the very least begin to resemble each other a little more#im just going to have to be emotionally uncomfortable while not forcing myself to be socially uncomfortable anymore#and find ways to not do what i don’t want and openly do what i do want accepting that people will look at me while i do them#i just wish ppl like black women w bad personalities#i can’t be happier or more or anything so i want to choose the right things to feel uncomfortable with so that i don’t become stagnant#the hard part is not settling into your disorder but the hardest part is thinking it’s something u can ‘fix’ some things are acceptable#while others aren’t i just don’t want any regrets anymore#so i’ll do the things i want and will pick the things i don’t want to do carefully to make sure im not neglecting my life#and i will be less accommodating since i do it so often already#and destroy the ‘good person’ ‘bad person’ dichotomy with my raw bloodied hand for good#i may not heal but a bandaid is still better than getting an infection#maybe 2022 was good for self acceptance?#anyway let me find my resolutions#or it was a vision board?#personal
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