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#guess what my dinner was by reading this
stararch4ngelqueen · 7 months
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YOU SAID SOFT!JASON AND I CAME RUNNING
soft!jason who just needs a fucking hug but its a stubborn bitch about it until reader basically forces him to hug her (its koala szn ok i dont make the rules) and his resolve is just GONE and he melts into her touch bc he really needed it
I follow the book of SZA for this season.
Personally ima imagine Gotham Knights Jason cause he gives off ugly bulldog vibes and I love that, but all Jason lives matter here 😊❤️
It’s been a while since you’ve witnessed a squash get butchered into many interesting pieces.
The tackling of the oddly tough spaghetti squash was always handled by your boyfriend, who made cutting it into its prepared state look incredibly easy. Cut it into multiple rings, season them, roast them, then fork out the perfectly cooked, sizable noodles with said utensil.
He was lost in thought, he had to have been, as said rock hard vegetable had been resorted to crooked, uneven cubes. His bowed head and dark expression after you quickly noticed, only signified the assumption to be true.
“Jason.” You tried his name again for a second time, concerned enough to settle a hand along his forearm. It was a miracle he hadn’t lost a finger yet, but knocking on wood in your mind would’ve been powerful enough to make it happen.
“Jason.”
The knife pauses, the man blinking once as if someone snapped in front of his face. He lifts his head a bit, coming back to his senses only to realize the state of what mess he’d created on the cutting board.
“Shit,” Jason mutters once, glancing over to see if the other half of the spaghetti squash was still intact.
“Shit.” The curse was further dragged out a little louder. Too lost in his dark cloud of remembrance to realize he butchered it all. Great. Just great.
“Hey,” you speak up, watching him catch your gaze for a split second before avoiding it, quickly setting the knife down.
“Hey.” He clears his throat, his hands piling together the fragments of their now ruined meal. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” You try to insist, watching him scoop up the pieces in his hands. “We can still roast it, make it into something still eatable.”
Jason didn’t respond.
This makes your worry meter spike just a little bit more.
“What’s with that frown handsome? You love Italian night.” You question, keeping your hand settled along his forearm.
There was nothing Italian about this dinner, except the homemade sauce and crumbled choice of sausage from an authentic butcher.
He groans but not out of irritance for your words. His hand shifts, making your hand etch back as he leans against the counter, his head bowing once more.
“Nothing.”
What’s going on in that kind mind of his? Was he involuntarily reminiscing of topics and experiences you don’t dare to mention? Was he beating himself up inside for his slip up, ruining a crucial part of your guys’ dinner?
“Come here,” you step closer, slightly extending your arm out a bit as an offering.
Jason nearly etched his head off to the side, nearly mumbling an ‘No. M’fine babe,’ but you weren’t having it.
“Come heeere,” you tried again, reaching your arm up along his opposite bicep, attempting to capture his broad build into your limited embrace.
You make the effort to squeeze in between the tall man of muscle and the kitchen counter, managing to fit both hands over hud shoulders, securing them being his neck.
“We can fix it.” You tell him before he can say otherwise, his brow either furrowing or raising in mixed surprise, and or denial, “We can ask Alfred for one of his secret recipes. If it doesn’t work, fuck it. We’ll make nutella sandwiches or something.”
His brow sharply quirks.
You return the expression with a smile.
You’re a bad influence on him. He adores that about you.
He huffs, an edge of his tone resembling a weak, throaty chuckle. A corner of his lip raised into a limp smile, which was all you needed to see.
“Long day?”
He merely has the strength in his social battery to respond as his head lowers to settle along your shoulder. With a single sigh, the weight of his body against yours nearly had you squished against the counter. A pleasant company along your sides were those ‘unrealistically’ large hands guarding your back from digging too deep against the marble countertop edges.
“Yeah.”
Your small hand cradles the back of his head, nearly soothing the pain from his tension headache. His eyes close, another small sigh leaving his nose. Not all of the palpable stress leaves his body, but your comfort nearly dulls it down into something much more manageable in seconds. Something much more bearable.
Your soft voice floods his aches and pains with a golden warmth of serenity. Your secret super power did wonders on his heart and mind. You didn’t even have to try.
“How’s Nutella sandwiches sound, actually?”
“We don’t have the marshmallow fluff.”
“No, but.. think we got strawberries.”
His brow slightly quirks again. Tonight sounds like it’s getting better already.
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clowningaroundmars · 1 month
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morales twins vigilantes: getting found out pt 1
hey yall im in my fic writing era. but i am BAD at writing LMFAO i'm really not sure i'll ever write a proper fic with a plot or anything
either way, i hope yall like this lil drabble my brain came up with on a whim of the morales twins!
it's how i imagine the way their secret would be revealed after doing the whole vigilante thing together for a lil bit. it's kind of based on the hcs i had of the twins which is here, kind of a continuation of the last bullet point there actually
miles1610 is miles and miles42 is milo bc i read a couple fics with that name given to him and now it is stuck in my heart u_u
>2nd part here<
well. uh. hope u enjoy! :)
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It was a fight that went slightly awry that really did them in.
No blood, no fireworks, no loud banging or explosions or anything. No one was even so badly hurt that they almost died, either.
It was simply just… a broken mask and their father unexpectedly being on patrol that fateful night that finally brought their secret out to light.
The Morales twins had been doing their vigilante thing together for only a few months now. Miles had been Spider-man for well over a year, of course, but it was after a particularly bad fight with a rhinoceros guy (what a freak…) that went semi-viral on social media that his brother Milo finally put his foot down and pulled those Prowler gloves from under his bed. He worked hard to modify the technology to better suit him, and had all of the armor and rope he needed in order to keep up with his brother all set in as little as 2 weeks.
Miles hemmed and hawed about bringing his not-super-powered brother around for the nasty fights he usually tackled alone. But he would be lying if he said that Milo’s concern didn’t put a small smile on his face in the end. Plus, it really helped out a lot when Miles needed to be somewhere quickly but still had a criminal left to take on and web up. Milo being just one text away from springing into action took a real big load off of his shoulders in ways he couldn’t even imagine.
That was about 3 months ago.
It was relatively smooth sailing until one Jefferson Davis took a night patrol under his belt without even warning the boys.
Well, Miles thought to himself in retrospect, we weren’t really around the house to catch if he did tell anyone, so.
Miles ran along a side of a building to catch up with the villain of the week. He was desperately trying to keep this super-powered baddie off of his not-so-super-powered brother, and not quite succeeding. Miles told Milo time and again not to tease any bad guys during a fight. Keep the attention off of you, bro. You do not have superpowers. I do! Is that not what Miles said? God, it’s like in one ear and out the other with this guy. Ugh.
Currently, Milo is parrying and deflecting attacks from this shocker-looking guy, a real piece of work. He still had his hi-vis vest on-- and Miles swore he even saw a name tag on it somewhere which was just hilarious, really-- but aside from his normal-looking work outfit, everything else about this dude was definitely not normal. Like the bright electricity fizzing all over his skull that just barely concealed this man’s real face, and the giant lightning bolts shooting out from his hands as he tried to fry Milo. It was a good thing Milo had enough sense to install energy-absorbing tech into those giant claws of his, or else Miles would be in real big trouble at the ER.
Miles ripped a chunk of some abandoned demolition project that never got done and swung it with all of his might in the direction of their fight, using his webs for maximum distance. It didn’t hit electro-dude but it almost hit his brother. Oops.
“Ayo, watch it!” Prowler growled, his mask distorting his voice the same way it distorted Uncle Aaron’s back when he held the mantle. He gracefully flipped out of the way and shot a grappling hook somewhere off into some scaffolding, pulling himself away from the action to let his bro fly in and give the temporarily-distracted electric-man some work.
Miles would snap back with a retort if he weren’t so busy pummeling this villain with all that he’s got. Both boys’ curfews were about an hour ago and they just knew their mom would be fuming once she got back and found out. But this needed taking care of, and neither Morales boys were willing to leave some freak of nature to take over Brooklyn and shut down all the power lines over a bedtime. Hell no.
But this needed to end now, or else good ol’ Spidey won’t be seeing the light of day for another 2 months. And by the looks of it, neither will the Prowler. Before Miles could even think to land the finishing blow on old lightning-head here though, tragedy struck.
An all-too familiar voice hollers out those dreaded words both boys hate hearing, especially in the middle of a fight.
“PDNY! Freeze! Put your hands up where we can see ‘em!”
Everyone did freeze, Milo looking particularly shocked as his head swivels around to the sight of waving flashlights and 3 burly but familiar silhouettes making their way past the far gates and advancing quickly into the fray.
Jefferson Davis’ gun appears to almost materialize out of the shadows, his face lit up in the harsh lights of his flashlight beam, sporting an intimidating, professional look. Cop mode, is what Miles and Milo called it jokingly one day as they lounged in their room, passing a bag of chips between them and having a laugh at their dad’s expense. That was before Milo took on the mantle of the Prowler. That was before this.
Miles panics slightly as he feels the man jump up underneath him, thrusting an arm into the police’s direction, ready to fire off a bolt--
Right after Milo lunges in front of the officers, ready to take the blast.
It happens in a fraction of a second. Miles didn’t even think he had enough time to open his mouth, let alone warn Jeff of the incoming danger. He figures that’s what Milo must’ve thought, too, otherwise there really was no other explanation for this stupid decision he just made.
Sparks flew, and then the thud of a body hitting the floor seemed to echo throughout the demolition site.
Shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshit, was Miles’ inner monologue as he finally landed the blow to the side of the baddie’s head, knocking him out successfully. He quickly webbed the man up to the floor, restraining him fully. The way I shoulda done in the first place, damnit, Miles lamented, freezing in place after the deed was done. His brain was working into overdrive to try and think of ways he could extract his now-nearly unconscious brother from this place without raising their dad’s suspicions.
Ever since Prowler joined in on Spider-man’s “adventures”, the media became even more fascinated with capturing every single moment it could of Spidey now that he had a sidekick in tow.
Headlines splashed on magazines, articles and news feeds read: “Batman and Robin! Spider-man and… the Prowler?” and “Webbed Menace Recruits Purple Sidekick, Even More of a Menace”. They haunted Miles’ every step. Milo, for his part, was mostly amused. But every now and then he would complain about being known as his brother’s sidekick, as if that was the most egregious part of having his every move recorded and uploaded for millions to see online.
Their mother became even more suspicious of her twin sons after she watched a video of the two vigilantes stopping a runaway bus in downtown Brooklyn. They looked eerily similar in size to her own teenage boys, and even seemed to banter the same way after all of the civilians were saved and back on solid ground. The way Spider-man clapped Prowler on the shoulder… hmmm.
To say that she shared her suspicions with her husband would be an understatement. Milo and Miles somehow always managed to catch a familiar cop car slowly rolling around corners and down streets, keeping pace just behind them, watching them. Miles would always roll his eyes, knowing it was their father. Milo would be annoyed but managed to shrug and keep minding his own business, since it was very obviously their father. When confronted, Jeff would try-- and fail-- to casually brush it off as simply doing Concerned Dad things.
“Listen, you two.” Jeff started one evening after dinner. He managed to get both boys down in their room one weekend, just for “a quick talk”. His excuse was that Brooklyn was getting too dangerous lately, especially at night, and that he was “gonna keep an eye on them” as a precaution.
But neither boy missed that slight nervous shift in his stance as he delivered the news, and once their dad bade them a good night and left, they gave each other a silent look that conveyed the exact same thought they were both thinking.
They’re onto us.
Well, their parents’ fears and suspicions were definitely going to be confirmed whether the twins liked it or not.
Milo groaned on the ground, the Prowler gauntlets having taken the majority of the blast sent his way, but the mask was halfway blown off, revealing a good portion of the boy’s face underneath. He rocked in place for a moment, blinking stars and dancing lights out of his eyes for just that one moment.
“Prowler!!” Miles shouted. In his panic, he forgot to lower his voice and conceal his identity, but his feet just wouldn’t move! What the hell, Morales… get it together! His brother was just badly injured and here he was, frozen in place like a deer.
Jeff, for his part, was barking orders to his coworkers and directing them to make a sweep of the place in case any other suspects tried to make a run for it.
They both left. He finally jolted his bright beam of light onto Spider-man, simply standing there a little ways away and staring back with those unnervingly gigantic bug-eyes of his. If Jeff wasn’t in work-mode right now, he’d explode on this guy and ask about what the hell was going on here, but Officer Davis was nothing if not a consummate professional.
Plus, there were more pressing matters to attend to.
There was what seemed like a teenage boy on the ground, wearing those goddamned gauntlets that Jeff could’ve sworn he shipped off to the junkyard after Aaron’s funeral. Damnit, if this punk was running around wearing his brother’s mantle and tagging along with Spider-man just to double-cross him in the end, there was gonna be hell to pay.
Jeff didn’t know why, but he felt slightly protective of the bug-themed hero, damnit. Sue him. And those claws brought nothing but terrible memories of screaming women, dead brothers and heightened stress. He did not need this right now, fuck.
Once the boy on the ground stirred, Jeff quickly pointed his gun and flashlight beam directly onto him. “Those orders were for you, too, punk. Do not try me tonight. Freeze. Put your hands out where I can see ‘em!”
Milo froze on the ground, and then tried to twist his face away from his looming father who was only a foot or two away with the world’s brightest flashlight in his face, fuuuuck. He just knew he was gonna be feeling this headache for the next 3 days…
Tentatively, he also raised his claws in front of his face as slowly as he could, trying to cover his face even more. He propped himself up on his elbows and tried to regulate his breathing.
Having a cop for a dad was not always peachy, but it helped a lot to know exactly how an officer would react if any sudden movements were made while having a gun out, and Milo was not trying to get a bullet to the chest on top of the mother of all electric shocks as well. No thank you.
It was in this moment that Miles’ brain started working again, and he unstuck himself from the pavement to reach out to his dad.
“Offi-- ahem, ahem. Officer Davis,” he remembered to lower his tone and conceal his voice a bit as well, and continued, “what a surprise to see you here. On this, uh. This very beautiful night!”
Groan. Oh my god. Even Milo rolled his eyes a bit, trying to shuffle back.
“I said FREEZE!” Jeff roared, attention still trained on Milo.
Without glancing up, he added, “And you Spider-man. Oh, buddy you are gonna get it after I’m done with this little asshole, runnin’ around with my brother’s-- man, y’know what-- nevermind! Just stay back, okay? I got this handled.”
“But wait! Th-that’s uh. He’s not an asshole, officer, he’s my-- my sidekick! He’s the good guy!! He helped me take this guy down! And he even saved you just now!” Miles waved his hands around frantically, agitating Jeff.
Stop doing that, stupid! Milo thought to himself in a daze, still recovering from the electric blast.
“Stay back, Spider-man. I’m warning you.” Jeff growled.
Miles picked up the hint and halted his movements, giant white eyes flicking back up and down from his dad to his brother and back. He had to think of something, or else Milo would be dragged back to a holding cell and both of their identities would be out. He just couldn’t let that happen.
Biting his lip, Miles gathered some resolve and stepped forward again. “Officer Davis—”
“Not another word outta you!” Jeff swung the flashlight right back onto Miles threateningly, and then trained it back onto Milo again. “I am serious right now, Spidey. One more word outta you and I’m slappin’ the cuffs on you too, I swear to god! I got more than enough room in the back of the squad car for two freaks!”
Miles recoiled. “Freaks. Geez, is that what you think of us?”
But Jeff didn’t answer, because he was all of a sudden deathly silent.
Both of the other officers just finished their sweep of the area, and were making their way back to Jeff when he all of a sudden kneeled down, still training that gun on Prowler’s face. But his movements were slow and hesitant, as if he were performing them in a daze.
Miles’ spider senses should’ve been tingling by now, at the very least a little. Still, he stayed glued to his spot as he watched Officer Davis-- as if in slow motion-- shifting his flashlight and gun into one hand, lowering both slightly and away from Prowler’s shattered mask.
As his other hand reached out, Milo flinched, but he didn’t need to. Jeff simply carded his calloused fingers over his hair, his braid on the one side of his head, in reverence. Milo couldn’t breathe. He was too scared to speak.
And then everyone’s blood ran cold at the same time.
Jeff saw the beads of Milo’s favorite basketball team colors, ones that he was excited to get again at the barber shop last weekend, simply hanging there tied to the ends of the Prowler’s braid, sitting limply in his hand. Milo’s blood ran cold once he realized exactly what it was that his own father was looking at. He didn’t need to reveal his face whatsoever when his now-exposed hair told the whole story anyways.
Miles’ spider senses finally kicked up once Jeff looked up slowly, an absolutely ruined expression rippling across his worn-out features as he really gave Spider-man a good, hard look, eyes playing over what little he could see of the vigilante in the darkness of night.
For a split second, no one said anything.
Even electro-head seemed to be silent as he came to and tried to sneakily rip the webs off of him. No dice. He finally turned his attention to the trio not too far away and opened his mouth.
“Hey, what the hell is this, some family reunion or something? Let me outta here, man! Goddamn, what a fuckin’ punch, man… shit…”
Everyone startled at the same time, turning their attention to the villain. Damn, almost forgot about him.
The other officers finally arrived to surround the other angles behind Spider-man, one of them even kneeling down beside electric-- whatever, the villain of the week-- and started cutting him out of the sticky ropes to put him in cuffs.
“Don’t even think about it,” one of them grunted once they got to his hands and saw a tingle of electricity surging through fingertips. “We got dampeners in my squad car if you try anything cute, got it?”
Jeff slowly holstered his gun, keeping the flashlight trained on the Prowler, unable to tear his eyes from this boy lying on the ground at his feet.
“Davis…? You good?” This was the officer who wasn’t busy wrangling sticky webs off of the baddie. He had his flashlight and gun trained on said baddie of course, but his head was swiveled to look at his captain.
Jeff swallowed hard and nodded slowly, a weirdly mechanical kind of movement.
“…Okay. Hey, Spidey. Thanks for this, I guess,” said the officer, keeping his concerned gaze trained on Jeff, shrugging a shoulder. “Too bad about your friend though. Hope he’ll be fine.”
It took Miles a second to recognize that iconic mustache, and then it dawned on him that it was his dad’s faithful friend and his own sidekick, Officer Gutierrez. How ironic, Miles thought ruefully.
He turned back to his dad, who was now helping Prowler up from the ground and steadying him against his side.
“What’re we doing with these two?” Gutierrez asks, because someone has to.
Jeff startles, as if he was just asleep and happened to wake up. “Uhh, about...?”
Gutierrez gave him a look. “The mask guy under your arm. And, uh. This guy,” he points his chin towards VOTW (villain of the week) as he’s being hauled up forcibly by the other officer, now in giant sturdy cuffs binding his arms together.
“The… that guy. Electric man. Just… just put those dampeners on his hands and take him down to HQ. They’ll probably just ship him off to the Raft. Let me know when you guys get there, of course. I’ll uhm. I think I’m gonna be taking my break right now.”
“You taking the mask-man all by yourself, then, captain?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I will. It’s… something personal to me, to be seeing these claws on this boy. I’m sorry. I think I might explain later but right now, we gotta get that guy behind some kinda bars. Please, Gutierrez.”
Gutierrez gives him an unreadable expression, and Jeff shoots an apologetic look back.
Finally, his partner gives a small nod and turns back to the task at hand. Miles breathes out a sigh of relief.
But it was a breath too soon.
“Spider-man. Prowler. The both of you. My car. Now.”
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vraska-theunseen · 2 months
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google how to not be sosososo anxious all the time. its not even like stress that motivates me to get things done it's just like. i make a mistake and misunderstood instructions in class and my teacher is like "you were supposed to figure out precisely where 180 was before taping the draft and punching your marks" when i like an idiot guesstimated it and after a moment of me going "oh..." bc its something i can't fix bc i've already punched in all the holes on the part he's like "i think you'll be okay" and goes back to what he's doing and then for three hours im like he's so annoyed with me i bring things to him too much and ask him too many questions and make the stupidest mistakes every day he hates me. i ask a friend something and they don't respond because they're busy or forget about it or don't see it or any number of other reasons and then a couple weeks later i send them something else and they don't respond for a few hours and its enough time for me to convince myself i said something a while ago that they took offense to without realizing and they're ignoring me and i send another message saying "are you mad at me did i do something can you tell me what i did so we can work it out" and he's like "what?". a friend posts about people treating them badly in a way that's clear they're talking about a specific phenomenon or person and im always like omg are they talking about me did i do something bad and not realize it... and its someone i talk to so infrequently and casually it obviously would not be a concern or someone i've known for so many years that they would obviously come to me if there was any conflict that arose. help
#alex talks#one time that friend from the second example had to rescind an invitation for me to come to shabbat dinner bc he said his parents were#hosting an important rabbi and didn't want their sons friends dicking around in the house and i was like ok i get it and then another friend#mentioned to me something that implied they were still going to the friend's house and i had 2 class periods to stew and get anxious and#paranoid and think like does he hate me? does he just not want to invite me specifically? do his parents not like me did they ask him not to#invite me specifically? and then in advisory we're both just sitting there and im like 'so do your parents hate me' and he's like 'what????'#and i'm like 'jakob said they were still going to your house' and he's like '????? my parents told jakobs parents they could come and stay#overnight bc their parents are out of town so jakob has to come over' and i was like 'oh. sorry' and felt so bad about it for the entire day#honestly? now that im thinking about it so many times i've been like manic in that friends dms about something they said that i've made 10#leaps of logic over so in my head they said a completely different thing but to them i just sound insane and like i'm taking them in the#most bad faith i possibly can. which i guess really i am but i just get so worried#hm i guess manic is a specific word for a mental health symptom idk how else to describe it like i call him and leave a voicemail where ive#worked myself to tears over something i can't even remember now. maybe hysteric?#nobody reads these right
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pidgefudge · 1 month
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hi uh what the fuck happened
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paradimeart · 2 years
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s4 blackarachnia based on the transmetal2 design from bw
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katnissgirlsmakedo · 7 months
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this is crazytown. what if they do this in the wicked powers. cassie you’re not gonna do this in the wicked powers right. cassie you know better than to do this in the wicked powers. right. say right. 😐
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dragonji · 10 months
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not to say anything is seriously wrong with me but actually perhaps a bit yes that exactly because why has the past week of trying to sleep become an endeavor of attempting (futilely. valiantly sure but ultimately futilely) to trick my body into doing the precise opposite of what it ever wants to do 🚬😮‍💨
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itbitesthehand · 10 months
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I've started doing this thing (or at least I've started to notice myself doing this thing) where I just kinda idk daydream so hard I fall asleep? It's not like my normal fatigue, I'm not exhausted but awake and alarmingly aware of how I can't move, I'm peacefully drifting off to sleep as a daydream ramps up in its vividness until I'm actually just dreaming, and this only takes (or feels like it takes) a few minutes. I'll be having a regular daydream while wide awake, and then suddenly I'm on the cusp of sleep. I'd chalk it up to another facet of my fatigue if it wasn't SUCH a different sensation. I should probably be concerned about this but I don't even know where to start
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isa-ah · 2 years
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like idk idk i wont talk SOOO much bc its cringy to be a grown man writing in his public diary about his feelings but its such a slap in the face that after my grandma and grandpa died and i was effectively orphaned my mom said she was going to step up and actually be a mother figure to me and here we are. what, seven years later? and what has she done to overcome her own internalized homophobia? transphobia? to even just fucking call me by my name. she wont even politely accept an invitation and then decline to come later, like. its so. FRUSTRATING. idk
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hua-fei-hua · 2 years
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actually my ideal role in a fan community would be that of philosopher, where i start asking mods/admins questions about the rules and what they Mean in order to obtain Maximum Clarity (for Neurodivergent Reasons(tm) ofc) and probably also promote greater understanding btwn community members and casuals looking in
#like. i think the greeks were onto something when plato(?) said that a government should have an official philosopher in it#it's that or it's just the 'child of church leaders' thing that led me to ask my parents abt community building n management at dinner today#bc i was curious as to whether any of what they'd learned in seminary school could apply to fandom or w/e#like. christianity kind of is just a fandom. a really massive fandom that has its creepy parts its unsavory parts it culty parts#its liberal sides/interpretations and its conservative sides/interpretations etc etc all bc of the existence of one source material#like scaling is ofc the major difference btwn christianity (a religion) and fandom (a hobby (i hope)) which results in very real power#but anyway they're both fragmented into littler denominations that have their spats as *communities* see that's the key here /community/#anyway justification for using religious source/insp/whatever done what was i trying to get at here.#ah. well i guess an important role a philosopher would have in a community would be to prevent the formation of dogma#like. i hate it when people say things and expect common sense (or assumptions based on their personal worldview) to fill in the gaps#it's like my complaint abt how places have rules that literally JUST SAY 'don't be weird'#i've been in fandom long enough to know what you mean by 'weird'. BUT I'VE READ TOO MUCH ABT HISTORIANS GOING MAD BC NO ONE WRITES DOWN WHAT#THEIR BASIC ASSUMPTIONS ARE BC NO ONE THINKS TO THINK OF THEM LET ALONE QUESTION OR DEFINE THEM CLEARLY#RULES should be made clear such that people NOT ALREADY INTIMATELY FAMILIAR WITH THE COMMUNITY can understand them too!!!!!#imagine if in school the syllabus said 'basic classroom rules etc' instead of like. actually saying what was/wasn't allowed.#you probably could get away with that in middle/high school but they've been socialized to that sort of thing by then#idk vague rules n statements infuriate me to some degree and make me want to toe the line So Badly bc i was a horrible child lol#clarity of instruction and strict (but not cruel) enforcement that is based on understanding the rule's spirit and intent#are imperative to community maintenance and health imo#花話
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tripably · 1 month
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The way my own brain tries to sabotage my attempt at obtaining a healthier relationship with food is astonishingly irritating, mostly due to being so unbelievably illogical.
When my body started screaming about being ravenously hungry approximately two hours ago, my brain sent out an immediate, automated, unrepliable response along the lines of "No food necessary. You can't possibly be hungry, you've not even done anything today".
As if I haven't been up for, what, 11 hours, majority of which trying to internalize everything I possibly can regarding my new job, on just two cups of coffee and a small bowl of pasta. As if thinking and learning new things wouldn't require energy.
Or no, in fact, as if the task of having sustained the bodily functions of an actual real life person for the past 30 years including today couldn't possibly require more energy than whatever is in 100 grams of white pasta with trace amounts of feta cheese and olive oil, a couple of cherry tomatoes, and maybe a desilitre of oat milk.
As if I would somehow (how????) need to earn the right to, what, keep sustaining said bodily functions? In the eyes of whom, my own brain? Surely not that brain, the one that is in fact included in those bodily functions that apparently aren't significant enough to deserve to go on uninterrupted??
Like does this brilliant brain of mine seriously believe that starving myself is somehow an option that leads to a good outcome? Have we not seen enough logical proof against that? Have we not read enough articles about the ineffectiveness and dangers of diet culture?
And if reading about it really is not enough: have we not been doing that for the past 15 years with whatever is the the opposite of success? How fucking long do we have to keep repeating the same fucking behaviour before accepting the fact that it is not fucking working??????
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sttoru · 3 months
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·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.
wc. idk around 1 to 2k
tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.
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“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.
you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.
now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.
you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.
hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.
“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.
he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.
though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.
“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.
you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.
he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.
you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.
you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.
you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.
“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”
you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.
and yet. . .
“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.
sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.
“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.
you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.
“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.
sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.
his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”
your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.
you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.
“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.
“spit it out.”
there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.
sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.
you stop your thoughts for a moment.
“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”
your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.
“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.
he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.
in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.
that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.
“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.
“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.
the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”
you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.
“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”
you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.
your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.
“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.
when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.
“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”
he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.
“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.
he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;
“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”
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begaycommittreason · 7 months
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honestly i forgot that dick originally wanted to adopt jason as well just imagine how chaotic that would’ve been like
——————
jay: uh what’s for dinner
dick: well we have cereal and…
dick:
dick: hey don’t kids like the whole breakfast for dinner thing?
jay: i miss alfred
——————
dick: and for a bed i’d like to introduce you to this lovely thing called a futon!!
jay: …better than a cardboard box i guess
——————
jay: can i fight crime yet
dick: you’re a child
jay: you’re a slightly larger child
dick: …fair point, no extreme violence and minimum 4 flips per patrol
——————
dick: when a mommy and daddy love each other very much—
jay: i am not doing this with you dickface i know what sex is
dick: wait no little wing i have a powerpoint presentation. it’s color coded and everything!
jay: i wish i’d stayed on the street
——————
dick: okay that’s enough, you know what, get on top of the fridge
jay, hissing: this house is a fucking nightmare
——————
jay: hey some friends at school wanted to watch a movie, is it okay if they come here—
dick: yes, yes! oh my god finally i’m so proud you’re making friends jaybird, i’m gonna be the coolest host dad ever i’ll make pizza and
jay, already on the phone: yeah he said no, sorry guys, can we do it at tommy’s?
——————
dick teaching jason trapeze and circus stuff 😭
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jay: god the circus is so lame
dick: exCUSE ME i’m disowning you, get out
jay: WHAT
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dick, who forgot to pick up jay from school: oh god i’m so sorry, i’ll never do it again
jay, who’s thrilled to be allowed in the library after hours every time, but never one to pass on a guilt trip: wow dick i never thought you of all people would abandon me
——————
dick: listen my support group says-
jay: you joined a support group for single moms dickface, that doesn’t count
dick: it does too, they all think i’m very brave for doing this alone
jay: for fucks sake-
——————
dick, coming home late from a date and seeing the lights on: uhh hello?
jay, sitting on a stool: and just where have you been all night young man?
dick: IM 26
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jason, pointing at the wayne family photos: so who do we like, and who do i hate on principle
dick:
dick: okay so this is complicated
jason: there’s only like three living people??
dick: right. so—
——————
dick, who pulled an all-nighter working on a case: good morning!
jay, who was reading jane austen and didn’t notice the sun came up: right…morning
dick:
jay:
dick: you didn’t sleep did you
jay: well clearly neither did you
dick: fair enough, coffee?
——————
jay: so this guy was shovin’ me around and-
dick: i’ll kill him
jay: …no.
dick: but-
jay: his mom’s the librarian and i can’t afford to fall out of sharon’s good graces
——————
dick: look it’s not my fault i’m so charismatic
jay: i’m not asking for a lot here
dick: you’re asking me to suppress my nature
jay: i’m asking you to stop flirting with all my teachers at parent teacher conferences
dick: c’mon it’s not that big of a deal
jay: …miss shields gave me her phone number to pass along the other day. so did mr. burnes, it’s getting outta hand dick
dick: oh i see, this is serious
dick: she’s really cute, maybe i should-
jay: STOP IT
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king-calycanthus · 1 year
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One thing reading copious amounts of Steddie fics has taught me is that this fandom fucking loves lasagne. And we're right.
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kritt-kat · 1 year
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Tags.
tags tags tags!
#so I have decided to explain my terrible situation in my tags so why don't you pull up a chair and read!#so for starts#*starters#so the device I use recently broke apart. (much like the rest of my life)#and i had to get it fixed!#which my broke ass college self cannot afford!#and it took me like a week or so i think to get help from a repair thing.#then i got it back and my parents asked me about how i'm doing in college since they care about that#i said i'm not doing so well since I was recently confirmed to have type 2 bipolar deppresion (i spelled that wrong didn't i?)#and i'm trying to sort my life out to be better and humaning and not be deppressed#so GUESS WHAT THEY DID :D#they took my chrome that i write poetry on!#of course this isn't my work chrome book but I STILL NEED IT!!!!#they said it was a distraction and i should pay more “ attention”#BRO IM DEPRESSED WTF ofc i didn't tell them that since i was scared they say im being dramtic and ignore me.#(okay but why am i telling tumblr this and not my parents or therapist)#(becuase they're assholes probably )#so i had to ask my brother to go to my parents house for dinner and retrive my device!#and then i started using my phone more and i ignored my tumblr !#so im sorry for not posting.#im still sorting some things out so give me another 4 months or so .#(I like to take my time okay don't rush me!)#so uh#good luck !#I luv u#everyone loves you#harold my orchid is doing great.#my cat terri is try to eat harold#i'll post an abusurd qesions poll soon relax.
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inkskinned · 2 months
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okay if you're really cool about things, i can be honest with you. before you read further, decide if you're a girl's girl. if you're cool and actually cool or like not cool.
men don't talk in my book because i was fuckken tired of the way they're the center of every fucking story. i was tired of how every story takes a moment to let them talk. men can shut up for literally one fucking book.
unfortunately not everyone is cool. professionally what i usually say is i didn't want to add violence to the world. the only men in my book are abusers, so they don't get to talk. they don't get to take up space. they ruined my life, they don't get to have their words echo anymore.
because like, yeah! you find practically any story about a person surviving trauma and... there's a man at the center. men are often rescuing us from these things. a "good man" is always standing around, being a good man, proving to the victim that good men are the real men. that her experience was unique rather than universal.
the redacted text has not been taken well by all of my early readers. there is this weird, crouching growl that keeps occurring with men-of-a-certain-age. why don't we hear his side of the story?
when i sat down to write everything that happened to me, i couldn't look at the frank brutality of my abuser's words on a page and think to myself: i actually let him speak like that. i had to redact his words from the manuscript. i then left it redacted. no victim is going to read this book and hear the person who hurt them. it is a book for the victims to speak. abusers shut up challenge, forever. for eternity.
my father once told me, chuckling, i should just have a page of redaction where i let the man just finally talk. it is funny to joke about how we should make a whole page in my book about a man that hurt me. this was not the only time someone commented - it feels like you're hiding things. how do i know you're actually a victim if he doesn't get to speak?
there are books where women aren't even present. i even genuinely like some of those books. like, who doesn't like the hobbit?
i keep running into people defending this imaginary man. the default narrative is so true to some people that they will defend any man, just by virtue of the assumption - "if he's acting like that, you had to push him." certain people need definitive proof that you didn't accidentally make your partner into an abuser. they need to decide if you deserved it, because they want to be able to judge you.
which makes sense, i guess, from a hind brain perspective. if you can figure out "why" someone was cruel, you can protect yourself against it. if you defend the bully, the bully might side with you. i don't really know their explanation for feeling this about a character in a book. trust me, i wrote the guy. he is not going to protect you.
i guess i just - there was a time in my life where i desperately wanted anyone to defend me. where i could have really used someone saying holy shit are you okay instead of what did you say to make him act like that to you.
instead, over dinner, a friend-of-a-friend i just met is pouring herself wine. i heard you wrote a book, she says. she gives me the kind of chilly smile i associate with knives. i heard it's unfair to men.
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