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#Jazz calls them out on in
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The JL are terrified of jazz
So jazz started working in Arkham and immediately got a reputation
She was patient and kind and gave answers to problems people didn't know they had and was just the best psychologist Arkham had ever seen
She also got a reputation for not being messed with after she used the Fenton-anti-creep-stick on Scarecrow after he tried to attack her
At first, Batman was suspicious but after all the background checks and passed all evaluations so he left her be with a light monitoring
The problems started when the JL needed a physiologist and Batman recommended Miss Fenton
At first, Batman showed up asking for her to leave Arkham and work for the JL, he thought she'd jump at the chance to get away from Arkham...
He was wrong...
After a few months, the patients at Arkham were getting better but the JL need a good phycologist so Batman is still pestering jazz about it
Batman is going full paranoid stalker mode, harassing her at work and constantly sending requests for her to transfer to the JL
The only reason she's not been forced to quit is that everyone (guards, prisoners fellow psychiatrists everyone) in Arkham would rather fight than loose her
But things got to a whole other level when Jazz gets a call from her brother asking why a vigilante is calling him and asking him to convince her to transfer
When she sees him next she goes off, yelling and screaming at him for his behaviour and actions
There's a full 20 minutes of jazz just physio-analysing him, calling him obsessive, paranoid, requires closure, OCD, ODD, inconsiderate, and a whole lot of less friendly things
Everyone is scared because Miss Fenton has never even cursed at anything and now she's going off on THE BATMAN
Their terrified
Someone records it and goes viral everyone in the JL see it and thought it was funny...
Until she requested a meeting with them...
They get in the room and see Miss Fenton, her younger brother and a lawyer
Jazz then proceed to yell at every member of the JL, she called all of them enabling lazy, irresponsible children pretending to be adults
Superman tries to get her to be quiet so he can talk and her brother fucking hits him with a tazer! The scary part is he couldn't use his powers after ("don't worry you'll get your powers back in 24 hours, this is just so you'll listen")
So Jazz spends the next 10 minutes calling all the JL out on allllll their BS
After she's done her lawyer gets up and hands out pieces of paper to everyone
:what are these
: a restraining order
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confessedlyfannish · 23 days
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Writing Prompt #12
Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.
Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.
Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.
While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.
These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".
There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—
"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.
But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.
He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.
"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.
"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.
"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.
He doesn't look away from the man.
"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."
"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.
The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.
The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"
Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."
"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."
He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.
"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.
"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.
"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."
"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.
"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."
"Him."
"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."
"Why me?"
"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."
This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.
"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"
"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."
Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."
"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."
"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."
"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."
"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."
"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.
"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.
"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."
"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."
"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."
Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.
Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.
"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."
The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.
"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.
"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."
"I have more than one."
"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."
"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"
There is a pause.
"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."
"Resolve what?"
"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."
"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."
Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."
The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."
"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."
"They will have already muzzled him."
Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.
"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."
"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—
Clack!
"sluuuuurp!"
"Master Timothy, honestly!"
"Sorry Alfred!"
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DP x DC prompt:
Daniel was seething. It's been a year since he left the league and they've already found him. Well, it was his mother who found him. Not that that was any better but at least it wasn't Grandfather.
It also shouldn't have taken him so long to dispose of those soldiers. They weren't even that capable. Far below his level and yet he struggled. He needed to resume his training soon or else he would become rusty.
He cursed himself for getting too comfortable with civilian life. Not that his life was comfortable, far from actually.
He had been adopted by a pair of mad scientist with no concept of lab safety; and for all the intelligence they had, they couldn't fathom how to properly take care of a child, leaving their daughter to take care of herself and now her newly adopted sibling!
He sighed. He was starting to get angry. He couldn't afford to get angry. Especially not at Jazz. She was only two years older than him and was doing her best. She's also the only good thing in his life right now meaning that he had to cherish her, not break her. (He wouldn't be like his brother)
His mind stayed on Jazz for a while before immediately increasing his speed. He really needed to resume his training. How could he be so slack to forget such a possibility! Daniel desperately hoped that his sister Jazz was okay and that they wouldn't dare.
Entering through his bedroom window he rushed straight to Jazz's bedroom. It was open. She wasn't there.
Daniel started to panic when he heard a muffed scream coming from downstairs. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen.
In all honesty Daniel expected the worse. To see his sister Jazz dead on the floor, thick red gushing from her neck, the scent of blood in the air. And there was blood, it just wasn't her's.
Daniel always prided himself on having a vivid imagination. It was a great way to escape after an especially hard training session with his brother. But he would have never imagined this.
In the small, laughably suburban kitchen of the Fenton household was a sight to behold. In the air were two mangled bodies, unidentifiable if not for the league's emblem still visible on one of them. And on the wall was a splatter, a rather big one. It wasn't blood. It was too dark to be. But whatever it was was very unlucky.
In the center of the kitchen was Jazz. Her arms were outstretched, burning sigils rotating at the end of each palm. Her eyes glowed a bright icy blue.
Upon noticing him everything stopped. She looked fearful. Tears threatening to come forth.
"Wait I can explain, just don't tell mom or dad! Please!"
Daniel, still a bit shocked but not as much, simply walked into the kitchen towards the cupboard. Taking out a clean towel he unsheathed he sword and began to clean it.
He looked over his shoulder towards Jazz. She didn't look as scared but her eyes still held some fear. So he spoke, making sure the still bloody sword was in veiw.
"I won't tell if you don't." He flashed a grin his tiny fangs peaking out.
Jazz sighed as in the weight of the world was lifted off of her. She looked at him and smiled.
"Mom and Dad aren't going to be back for a while. Wanna help me clean up?"
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tanglepelt · 10 months
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Dp x dc idea 87
Danny is part Martian. He doesn’t know it tho.
Jack and Maddie decided to mess around with the DNA of their child before he was born. Adding in a bit of what they thought was ghost blood or something.
They originally planned to monitor and watch what happens to Danny as he grew up. See how it effects him. He was there ultimate research experiment.
But when he was born they felt just a tad guilty. They decided he deserved to be human. So obviously they suppressed that part of him. Every year they make sure it stays suppressed pill/shot or something.
That way he would only be human.
They wouldn’t have to deal with Danny’s “ghost” side coming out. They wouldn’t have to investigate what makes him tick.
Then the accident happens. The Fenton parents catch on quick. Already thinking Danny was part ghost. The accident obviously fully killed him and that’s why the ghost side was coming out full force.
They stop the suppression. Wanting to see what will happen. That’s when the Martian dna begins to effect him.
Shapeshifting and hearing others thoughts come first. Danny assumes new ghost power.
The fenton parents get more curious about what will happen. They decide it’s time to research Danny. This leads to him on the run.
Danny’s dna starts rewriting itself again. Danielle who Danny ran to gets him to frostbite. Frostbite reveals that he isn’t fully human. Thanks to Martian DNA being in the realm from an ex Martian frostbite informs them of his other part.
Jazz, Tucker, and Sam then set out to find Martian Manhunter. That way frostbite knows what the correct (alive dna not dead) structure is and figure out how to properly stabilize Danielle with it.
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breesperez139 · 7 months
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Dc x Dp Prompt #5
Demon Twin AU except Damian never had a blood son phase:
Damian would like to start saying he is not at fault for this….miscommunication. Truly, how was he to know sharing the same blood as Jasmine and Danyal would make them “siblings”? Not once has anyone mentioned such absurd claims. He has never and will never treat either of the two the way he would Richard or any of his other siblings, but apparently sharing the same donors when being created automatically makes people siblings.
Worse, father is upset at him and mother for “hiding away” two of his “children” from him. Richard and Thomas will not stop staring at him. Todd, Brown, and Drake will not stop laughing. Cassandra has not stopped looking at his body language since this whole encounter started. Alfred is giving him his patented disappointed face he oh so hates but what is he to do?
Damian was not hiding anything or anyone. Jasmine and Danyal have not nor will they ever be his siblings. They are the children of Jack and Maddie Fenton just as Richard and the rest of them are Bruce’s children. Blood has nothing to do with family. They are at best “god-siblings” or “cousins” if father refuses to believe they are simply childhood companions.
There is barely a hint of emotion as father purses his lips while his siblings continue looking on at him in disbelief. Damian is not understanding why they are having trouble comprehending such simple logic. It is common sense to know that siblings are the children at least one of your parents have raised other than yourself. Parents are the people who raise you. Talia raised him therefore she is his mother. He lives with Bruce who is now raising him and therefore he is his father.
Neither Talia nor Bruce raised Jasmine or Danyal, therefore they are not siblings. It is merely coincidence that he shared blood with both Bruce and Talia. After all, every time he’s visited Amity Park, most children look nothing like their parents. How can it not be coincidence when it is clearly far more normal to raise children who don’t share an ounce of blood with you, than those who do.
How can it not be normal when Jack Fenton took Jasmine in so easily knowing he didn’t share any dna with her? Even more so with Danyal who doesn’t share even a drop of blood with either Jack or Maddie. Look at yourself father. Out of all your children, only one shares your dna. Do not try and pin this on Damian for being the only sensible person in this family. Blood siblings, ha, don’t make him laugh.
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ducktracy · 1 year
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what a fantastic transition
#as much as i absolutely adore LT with all my heart there are no cartoons out there that give me such a CONSISTENT sense of raw visceral joy#than the Fleischer Popeyes#they are the epitome of fun. that’s such a vague word i know but i think it perfectly encapsulates these cartoons#not too gaudy or self absorbed. despite the fantastical nature of some plots and the gags and visuals there’s a down to earth humility as#well. it owns its simplicity very well. hearing that ‘30s jazz reach a climax as the visuals and gags and tactility and emotions get#stronger and faster in the climax of these shorts literally#gives me goosebumps! it’s an adrenaline rush#i also adore Olive Oyl. i mean i love them all. Bluto is the greatest cartoon asshole of all time. i love the nobility of Popeye. but i#really love that Olive gets to be just as loud and mean and weird and ‘ugly’ as the rest of the guys. she can throw a punch too. she’s not#just there to look pretty or be coquettish. she has a really natural charm and doesn’t feel forced like ‘oooo look at the cool LADY#participating too!’ which i feel is an issue with cartoons of both the past and present#she’s just another facet to these cartoons without calling much attention to herself and i really like that and wish there were more#like her#popeye#seasin’s greetinks#kneitel#vid#the lack of regular woman characters outside of thin tropes in golden age cartoons doesn’t bug me as much as it really should#because as a kid i was so used to watching ‘boy’ cartoons and connecting with ‘boy’ characters (i thought liking girl characters would make#me ‘girly’) and so it’s something i’ve always been sort of used to#but with that said Olive is one character i feel very strongly about and am glad she exists for those reasons#i don’t know why i’m getting so deep on this 10 second post? but anyway you should watch Popeye if you haven’t
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qcomicsy · 1 year
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I really like timber because it's like that one dumbass duo from every late 90's- early 2000 teen sitcom where one was the chill one with a braincell (Apparently) and the other was a funny man with a smartmouth, but they actually got together.
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tswwwit · 1 year
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(a bit nsfw) has dipper ever used a safe word or the equivalent of doing so with bill? if so how does bill react to that?
Not 'on-screen' as it were, but I imagine he's used one by now. Bill reacts as one should react for a safeword - cutting things out immediately and checking in. He didn't spend literal years building up enough trust to play those types of games to go and ruin it now.
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senselessalchemist · 5 months
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non-major NSFW talk about working in IVF/ART below (... so maybe it's SFW in context? 🤔)
new to the world of helping people have babies thru Science and it strikes me as so fuckin weird that right now despite everything it still takes the same old bullshit to make a new human. tbf there may be technologies that I'm unaware of being developed or whatever but from what I know you still gotta use a pair of gametes to make a new tiny person. cant get around it. have never seen the word "masturbation" on so many medical forms but you need those dang sperm and that's often the easiest way to get them!
I think it's just the juxtaposition of the efficient/professional/reserved medical stuff and the messy realities of biology vis a vis sexual reproduction. come in a cup and bring it in to our lab, we're doing an icsi, make sure all your info is properly written on the label, we need at least two unique identifiers for all samples. (This is probably not unique, similar stuff must happen with like the majority of medical disciplines. you try to make it dry and clinical but the biology is always there, just kinda being nasty and probably goopy. Lots of slime in biology.)
* shrugs * also probably just because it's all new to me. I did microbial ecology in a nonhuman context and this is a very different scene, obviously. humans is all the same, tho, they still don't read the instructions fully even when they are paying out of pocket for incredibly expensive procedures and I'm like you didnt have your signature notarized (like it told you explicitly to do on the form) so I cant accept this consent for something you want done tomorrow. It's just like dealing with students not reading questions fully on exams. Feels like home
... sorry for so much jizz talk. Part of it is that I don't think most medical clinics have a room dedicated to manual pleasure (door closed all the time, please) - which is also just so stupidly funny to me. like I get it, it makes sense, it's probably generally evolutionarily sound to incentivize reproduction with something enjoyable but everything has been recontextualized for me recently and I cant help but just kinda laugh at it sometimes
(I promise I am so professional at work and that I'm not laughing at specific people when I think about this... more just the broad concept of ""Life"" and what it takes to propagate it. Because like in the end we're all just these weird colonies of cooperating bits and pieces, doing all this chemical nonsense that involves a lot of kind of disgusting stuff... and yet we try to pretend that we're beyond or above it. This is not to say anything about, I dunno, some weird concept of like biological absolutism or whatever, I'm not trying to say that we are solely defined by our bodies, but just that there are fundamental biological processes we all share and sometimes it feels silly when those get ignored or euphemized or treated as abhorrent and uncouth)
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smolcuriouskitten · 3 months
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Just to get this out of the way...Ahem.
Back during my first few years on Tumblr, I had no idea what I was doing. Mutuals, icons, themes, pages, etc etc were all terms I was clueless on. I sought assistance to help me understand what people were looking for to make for smooth interactions and most ignored me or gave vague tips.
As someone who came from Wattpad, we didnt follow the same set of rules that people on Tumblr do. It was a free for all! Make a book with all your info, slap a picture of your muse on it and boom, you interact with others! There was no icons, mutuals or anything, just vibes!
With this being said, I passed and broke alot of boundaries back then. Got yelled at for continuously sending in asks to mutuals only blogs, asked to use smaller icons, and told to make pages on my account for better visibility. If it werent for the lovely people I met during that time, I would have been scared to continue interactions here and went back to the familiar but Im happy I didnt. Im happy I stayed. I met some amazing people here and grew with new experiences as the years went on.
Im making this post to say that if we got on the wrong foot back during the time of 2017-2019, I would like to apologize for not being on the 'up and up' with Tumblr etiquette. It wasnt my intention at the time to break peoples boundaries, cause issues, or make someones blog an unsafe space. I hope those that have been around since then are doing great and flourishing! I know most blogs sadly left the platform years ago but those who stayed, I hope you are doing amazing!! Love you all!
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alteredphoenix · 4 months
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I just remembered today at work that one of the fics I want to do for An Exercise in Futility is where Eleanor gets roped into helping Rose hit it off with Alisha and one of the scenes is where as they see Alisha go home for the day Rose goes "Bye, Felicia!" only for Alisha to turn back around and go "It's Alisha! Get it right!" LMFAO
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warlordfelwinter · 9 months
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Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
son boy
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missrosegold · 8 months
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Not the lady with her twenty-something-year old daughter standing in front of me being as difficult as humanly possible to the food service worker taking their order.
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bumbleblurr · 1 year
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blurr is so asian. To me
#ok to be clear to ppl who may nof know i am chinese sjhdkfjfk#mixed race asian actually but im not. discussing that on my robot blog this is not the place for that#i just think asian blurr humanformer is swag bc... heehee hes just like me fr :]#seeing white man blurr it just. it doesn't feel right to me#ESPECIALLY when they make his skin so pale its literally paper white like does this man ever go outside-#i understand that blurrs robot design does have literal white plating for his face but consider this. who give a shit#some of them have literal purple & blue faces we're not playing this game#besides the fandom already has this problem of considering white to be the default#legit saw. this exchange on twitter#abt someone calling out an artist for making the majority of their humanizations white while only. jazz was the only non white person#i think they even made windb1ade white which. :| ok#and another person defended them by saying there ''arent even that many poc characters''#like wdym theyre all robots how can u say theyre white . its you who is defaulting them as white bc u think thats the norm :///#anyway thats my off hand rant of the day#summary. blurr is asian bc i want him to be and i think its cool :]#other characters that have the asian badge of honor to me (that i can remember rn): pr0wl‚ j@zz‚ shocky‚ w1ndblade of course#dare i say. roddy also :]#OH wheeli3 too hes my little cousin who loves dinosaurs#(i actually have a little cousin who loves dinos so i think of wheeli3 in the same way)#my interpretation of him is largely based on my lil sis & my lil cousins so he has to be asian as a result. sorry i dont make the rules#ok ok thats all im going to say on this its already becoming incoherent#🐝 could you repeat the last part? 🟦
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annikasevenshots · 2 years
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nah but the show ever so slightly prefers seven in the relationship tho 💀 like all we've ever seen is how raffi reacts to seven, how raffi sees seven, how raffi talks about seven when she's not around, and not so much the other way round
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antirepurp · 2 years
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went on a run with my jojo interpretations this weekend hee hoo
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