im like always resisting the urge in conversation to go "can you perceive me? are you perceiving me? do i feel like a real person to you? am i fully a person? what does it feel like to talk to me? how do you think about my place in your interpretation of the world? what do i mean to you? do i seem put together? do i seem like i know what im doing? do i seem competent? what is the version of me inside your head like?"
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Is this courtship?
Danny is going to Gotham for his scholarship.
Good news! There's another halfa in the city, and he seems to be a good guy. Bad news: the nearest path to his university is through that halfta's haunt. He could take the long way around, but the costs would be more than his budget can handle, and he'd like to avoid dealing with a pissed-off Red Hood.
Hopefully the offerings will be enough to sate his annoyance (and help maybe, god that man has the most malnourished core he's ever seen).
Jason is getting incredibly confused over the strange gift baskets that keep appearing on his patrol routes.
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I started a new remote job last week, and I'm the only genderqueer person at the company (and the first person who uses neo pronouns that anyone on my team has ever met, apparently).
So far:
Manager carefully wrote down spelling and pronunciation of my pronouns and told everyone on the team to respect them.
Coworker apologized privately for misgendering me (I hadn't told her yet) and said she will practice.
Guy on another team valiantly tried to use my pronouns and ended up saying something like zirzs-zhizz (I DM'd him and thanked him for trying and linked him to a practice site).
Teammate told me he has written out my pronouns and how to use them in a sentence and literally taped it to his monitor so he can practice.
Teammate also referred to me as compañere after I linked to a comic about gender-neutral endings in Spanish (whole team except me + 1 other person speaks Spanish as first language and they held all meetings in Spanish before the two of us started).
I am so stoked that people are actually trying. 💜🤍💚
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honestly just in general it's very exhausting to try to analyze media that is literally meant to be analyzed, only for the replies to be filled with people arguing not against your analysis, but against the premise that the media can be analyzed at all.
i don't even know what to say about it without starting to really betray my frustration, so i'll just settle with— just don't engage with analysis posts? I'm serious. if you're typing a response to a media analysis post, reread what you've written and ask yourself "is this comment/response against the very concept of analyzing the media at all?" and if the answer is yes then delete it all and go sit in the shame corner. throw your curtains away if you want to so bad and stop telling me that I'm not allowed to hum and haw at the fact mine are blue
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quick vashmeryl doodle i drew while i was on a plane
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Prompt 175
Talon -William Cobb, that was his name once, he remembers that much at least- stares down blankly at the small child who is clinging to its -his His HIS- pant leg, tiny claws digging into the cloth and gripping onto the armor. It he freezes, unsure as to how to react. With Hunts or Orders, the talon knew exactly what to do. Entertain. Kill. Simple.
Talons were supposed to kill witnesses, he- IT knows this, especially as one of the oldest talons that belonged to the Court. Yet the talon hesitates, something stopping it from doing so. The child looks up at it, something oh so familiar about the motion, with blue-green eyes before burying their face against its- his?- leg.
“'̵m̸ ̵c̴o̷l̵d̸…” the child-chick… spoke? Not-spoke. Something else, familiar-yet-not. But cold, he knew that. Cold was bad, it meant sleep, not rest but a deep frozen sleep that took time to awaken from. A dangerous thing. A thing not-talons didn’t wake up from.
The chick -Hadn’t he had a child once, all that time ago- whined, bringing its-his attention back to them. Talon could wait to return to the Court for a few hours more- the task it had been given was already complete-and keep the Cold away from the tiny chick. Just for a little bit.
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alot of robotgirl posting is stuff like "imagine having a virus installed in me slowing my cpu down" and "getting sticks of ram pulled out of me while in the middle of telling you everything i enjoy" and part of that is appealing...
but if i were a robot girl i'd rather you be careful with my components. my insides are of wires and metal and glass but it's delicate nonetheless. my consciousness is also fragile. i can still get overstimulated. i enjoy your touch as you stroke my head, my cheek, as you work on me, as your fingers trace across my motherboard. but please be delicate.
my entire life is at your fingertips and it makes my fans spin at full speed, but i trust you to preserve it
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