#i'm just always tired

[electrosquash]

I feel like there's a part of me that just went to sleep and doesn't wake up anymore?

[mythicalcoolkid]

You don't wish your disability was worse or more visible, you wish your disability was taken seriously. Please stop confusing the two, I guarantee you would not get the support you need JUST by being more severe or more visible. Please listen to visibly disabled people when we tell you it isn't better on our side

[captainkirkk]

I want to see characters being taken care of in an explicit and worshipful way. Home-cooked meals. Hair brushed and braided by gentle hands. Little gifts just because.

I want to read about characters who are not used to kindness being bombarded by acts of service. This trope works romantically and platonically. Give me found family and acts of service - all the ways a character is wrapped up in wordless, explicit care after years of cruelty and having no idea how to handle. I need it.

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

Mc: (holding their own head) do you guys like want the good news or bad news

Lucifer: (angry) who did this?

Mammon: (walking into the room) yo! Lucifer can I have-

Mammon: (seeing Mc) I want names

Mc: okay because I'm geting bored, bad news I don't know how to re-attach my head

Mammon: (holding Mc's head) you can tell us later we just want names

Lucifer: (sighing) and the good news?

Mc: exposure to Solomon's horrible food eventually made me Immortal too

Lucifer: give us the names on who beheaded you now

Mc: bold of you to assume Solomon didn't already get his hands on them

[thevioletcaptain]

i genuinely don't care how good a piece of ai generated art or writing looks on the surface. i don't care if it emulates brush strokes and metaphor in a way indistinguishable from those created by a person.

it is not the product of thoughtful creation. it offers no insights into the creator's life or viewpoint. it has no connection to a moment in time or a place or an attitude. it has no perspective. it has no value.

it's empty, it's hollow, and it exists only to generate clicks (and by extension, ad revenue.)

it's just another revolting symptom of the disease that is late stage capitalism, and it fucking sucks.

[demigods-posts]

to the end of the earth. i will argue that percy's first kiss was with annabeth chase. this is not rachel slander. i love that green-eyed redhead. but percy did not kiss rachel in the last olympian. he got kissed. percy did not kiss annabeth in the battle of the labyrinth. he got kissed. that's not a technicality. it's fact because both kisses happened to him. he did not consciously engage in any kiss until he was with annabeth after his birthday. and i will die on this hill.

[kettlefire]

As Good as Good Gets (DP X DC Snippet)

Richard "Dick" Grayson is the golden child. In the eyes of the public, and in the eyes of the league. Dick is a sweet, caring son, a man who went from being a sidekick to being a hero. The pipeline from Robin to Nightwing had many people applauding his dedication to keeping Gotham safe.

No one knew the full story, not truly. No one but Bruce Wayne himself. And maybe a certain butler. Many don't know that Dick only became Robin to stop him from hunting down and killing the man who killed his parents.

No one really knows about the harsh fights and arguments he has had with Bruce. The times when Dick would find himself cut off from the Wayne name for a week or so. No one knows that the first person Dick warmed up to was Alfred. Having been bribed with cookies.

Things weren't always this good, trusting, happy relationship between Bruce and Dick. It had been a rough ride, a complicated one. But that was okay, because it got better.

Dick stopped being so moody and angsty. He grew up, he learned, and he changed. He became an older brother, found people that needed him. Needed him in a way that the citizens of Gotham didn't need him.

His brothers like to call him annoying. A goody two shoes who Bruce trusted more than everyone else. They couldn't fathom how someone like Dick could be so stupid and bubbly at all times.

All times, except when shit hits the fans. Despite the name calling, despite coining Dick as the stupid Wayne. They all knew better. They knew that when it mattered, Dick Grayson always pulled through. He was a force to be reckoned with when needed.

The whole Wayne family was a force to be reckoned with when called for. It didn't have to be under the guise of costumes and vigilante acts. Whether he was Officer Grayson or Nightwing, Dick was a man with his morals and values.

One night on patrol as Officer Grayson, Dick found someone who needed that force. A force willing to protect and care for the innocent. The hurt. The damaged, yet still good.

It started like any other night. A call of shots fired by an empty warehouse. There was no sighting or knowledge of any rouges being there, so Dick took the call. Told the team he'll contact them if it seems more than just a civilian incident.

The warehouse was dark, reeked of copper and oil. It didn't take long for Dick to find the trail. The liquid he found looked like the person had been dragged before walking. There was a clear struggle, even with the mess and emptiness that was the warehouse.

That wasn't Dick's biggest concern. The concern lay in just how much blood there was. Too much for any normal person to lose and still manage to stumble through the warehouse.

It wasn't just blood. It wasn't that much, but Dick could spot the strangeness in the liquid. The mixed in green that had an eerily similar color and glow as a certain pit.

Without thinking, Dick followed the trail. Barely remembering to make contact with his family. Give them an update on what he found. Words telling him to stay put for backup went in one ear and out the other.

Something in Dick's gut was telling him he couldn't wait. He needed to find the source. Whoever was currently bleeding out in this warehouse. He silenced the comm, moving further through the dimly lit building.

Then Dick found it. Or more so, he found him. It was just a boy. A boy that reminded Dick too much of the youngest Wayne. A boy sat against a wall, looking pale and weak.

Red and green coated the front of the boy's shirt, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. An attempt to stem the bleeding. A puddle had already started to form beneath the boy, and Dick moved without thinking once again.

He quickly found himself kneeling beside the boy, hands carefully reaching out. Before Dick even touched him, the boy flinched. Eyelids suddenly opened, wide and terrified blue eyes landed on Dick's.

In just that one look, Dick knew what he had to do. The haunting, terrified, and pained look in the boy's eyes told Dick everything he needed to know. The boy was in danger. Someone had hurt this kid, and it was clear it wasn't the first time.

The boy struggled weakly against Dick's touch, terrified whimpers, and barely coherent pleas spilled from the kid's lips. It had Dick's heart aching, clear as day the poor kid has been through hell and back.

It took a lot of reassurance, gentle touches, and promises of help before the kid let Dick take a look at the bleeding wound. A promise on Dick's soul had been the final thing that earned him any semblance of trust. A strange promise, but Dick was willing to make it.

That concern turned to pure anger the moment Dick managed to pull the sticky shirt away from the wound. The sight of a Y-incision cut perfectly into the skin, stitches tight on the skin, but blood still leaking heavily from the wound.

It didn't take long for Dick to realize why. Despite the perfect surgical care of the wound, a good couple of stitches had broken. Leaving gaping spots for that red and green liquid to pour out of.

The boy was deathly silent, tears streaking down his cheek as wide blue eyes stayed trained on Dick. In that moment, Dick knew he had to help. Had to get the kid to safety, patch him up, and find out what kind of monster would do this.

It didn't matter if the kid was human or not. It didn't matter if the kid had special abilities or not. No one, absolutely no one, deserved to be vivisected.

The kid was shrouded in mystery, but that mystery only seemed to grow and become clearer when Bruce had entered the scene. The boy had tensed, eyes flashing a bright glowing green.

Lazarus pit green.

It set a pit of dread in Dick's gut. His mind brings forward memories of Jason. Jason, after his revival, after his dip in that cursed pit. The same flash that his brother would get if he got too angry. Too emotional.

As much as Dick wanted to focus on finding who did this, if it had any connection to Ra's al Ghul. He couldn't. Not when the kid tried to get up, to pull away as Bruce and the others made their way closer.

Right now, Dick only cared about making sure the boy was okay. Fixing those stitches, getting him a meal, and a warm bed.

He needed to get this kid someplace where he felt safe and secure. Comfortable and protected. Dick wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the promise he had made, but he wasn't letting anyone get to the kid.

That included his family. As strange as it seemed, Dick put himself between the others and the kid. Shooting them all a glare that they had only ever seen a handful of times.

Dick lifted the poor boy up in his arms, cradling the crying child close as he led the way out of the warehouse. Ignoring the questions or confusion coming from Bruce and the others. As Dick walked, feeling the trembling boy clinging to him, he made a rather obvious realization.

Maybe the eldest son really was more like Bruce than he expected. Just a few short moments the the boy, a boy that Dick didn't know his name, and he was ready to pull out adoption papers. To give the boy a safety he so desperately needs.

Give him the chance that Bruce had given him all those years ago.

[uncanny-tranny]

The whole "breasts shouldn't be politicized because the primary purpose of breasts is to feed babies!" can be a fine jumping-off point, but I really wish people thought deeper than that when we talk about the ways in which bodies are politicized and restricted.

Like, why's it that when we talk about breasts, they must have some Higher Purpose? It's true that breasts aren't inherently sexual, but they aren't valuable solely because they can potentially feed a baby. A human body doesn't have to serve a Higher Purpose in order for it to not be legislated against or policed, and I just wish people would remember it isn't always about babies, about other people, about anything else other than the people who have that body.

[yusiyomogi]

if ryoko kui can write a complex disabled character AND make him funny without specifically making fun of his disability or depression, fandom should at least try to do so as well.

[gougarfem]

i've never had such fake, shallow friendships as i have with white, liberal, "queer" friends. people i've supposedly been close with for years consistently left me on read when i texted them at 4am in hospital scared and alone with critically low sats because they didn't have the energy for emotional labour. you have to ask to vent, respect triggers, never ever traumadump, so real conversations are difficult because nobody wants to complain - unless, of course, it's related to identity somehow - you can say you had a bad day because your teacher is transphobic, but not because you had an argument at home or threw up or just didn't feel well - none of it comes from genuine concern but instead the rules and norms within your online community. constant reassurance, validation, knowing there's no possibility of a nuanced discussion on anything other than your approved safe topics. attempts at open communication feel sanitized and are laced with therapy-speak, not reflecting real human emotions, but "i sincerely apologize for crossing your boundaries" because it's ideologically wrong, the undertone is 'please don't make a callout on me', not 'i'm sorry', abuse and manipulation are wrong because they get you ostracised and put on blast publicly by your friendship group so any little disagreement comes with a flurry of reassurance that you aren't an abuser, and they still call you they/them behind your back, they still ask your other friends what they think of your opinion on ace discourse, have you crossed the line yet, can we cut you out yet, it's so fucking tiring and there's no space for real connection or humanity in all of it

[homielander]

shiv's motivations for voting to pass the gojo deal are so layered and i don't think they should be dismissed in favour of any one interpretation. shiv desperately grabbed on to a lifeline for her relationship with tom. shiv was the deciding vote and she couldn't bear to hold the crown only for a moment just to place it atop her brother's head. shiv knew she would have more influence as wife of CEO rather than sister of CEO. shiv absolutely hated seeing kendall crystallize into logan before her eyes, especially when he made roman bleed ("and if we did kill him we get to go to bed") -- succession has always been about siblings so of course she tried to free her brothers before her child. shiv still thinks she can raise her child with all the material benefits of being the daughter of waystar CEO while doing better by her, whatever that means. and all of those things are true

[wardingshout]

Viridian trainers for day 5 of spesilverweek! they are my most beloved but Lance is a cursed character who is impossible to draw or portray in any way to me

[sorun-var]

[teddybeartoji]

a heavy sigh falls from your lips.

"i'm jus' having a day."

satoru huffs. "you're telling me... that you're having a day... aaaaaaall by yourself, handsome?"

you don't need to look at him to know that he's wiggling his eyebrows. dummy. faintly shaking your head, you try to brush his stupid comment off but your lips have a mind of their own, so used to a smile that they're already twitching upward. and satoru being satoru, he takes it as a very good sign to continue. "i can't believe the love of my life is having a day – without me. betrayal, i tell you, absolute betrayal."

he throws himself onto the couch right next to you, thighs touching. no inches between you.

"stop..." you whine. "let me have my day..."

"no way, baby. we're having a day." tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and he whispers — "together."

when you turn to face him, your noses touch. he never did know what personal space is but it's not like you mind (you love it). he looks into your weary eyes, hiding his frown. he nudges his nose against yours and presses a quick kiss to it.

"so is it a 'quiet' day or a 'sleep' day or a 'bath' day or a 'film' day or a 'park' day or....?" his voice is so soft and sugary and warm and caring and you immediately get lost in your thoughts. he's so sweet. you're so grateful for him. if you told him to be quiet for the rest of his life, he'd do it. it'd be very fucking hard but for you – he'd do it without a second thought. and now he's here, asking you what kind of a day you're having. he would've probably wanted to play video games or make-out or go bully suguru but he won't even bring it up because he can see that it's not the right time for that. and you're so grateful. what did you do to deserve a boyfriend like this? a boyfriend who's so ready to put your needs above his, always and forever.

he observes you in your little mind palace, your eyes are little zoned out and it just might be the cutest thing. he places his hand on your thigh, gently pulling you back to him. he doesn't say anything, only giving you a reassuring smile. you love him.

"a 'quiet' day, i think." your head falls against his shoulder with a soft thump.

"okay."

pressing his soft lips to your forehead, he draws hearts on your back.

a quiet 'sorry' tries to hide inside the crook of his neck, burrowing itself into his hoodie. he catches it, though. like always.

"sorry for what?"

"this."

a rumble in his chest, you feel it so clearly.

"you're sorry for having a day?"

an incoherent mumble is his answer.

craning his neck, he tries to look down on you. a finger finds your nose and boops! it, making you sink deeper into him.

"my baby."

it's like honey – the sweetest coo in the whole wide world. he pours it all over you, covering you in his love, sticking you to him. you don't mind (you love it).

"never ever ever ever apologize for that stupid shit again, though."

...

and there it is — a snicker. not a full laugh but it's enough.

"like - damn, you really are dense sometimes, baby." he whistles, earning him a punch to his chest. and a smile. he's getting there.

"what the fuck is wrong with you, satoru?" sitting up straight, you force your lips into a thin line (it's so hard to not smile around him). "i'm over here begging for mercy for being, oh, i don't know, vulnerable, and you tell me that i'm dense?"

hastily you stand from the couch, leaving satoru staring up at you with a big grin. "what a good boyfriend." you scoff. but your words mean absolute jack shit to him, it's like water off a goose. he's never been more in love. he sees another twitch of your lips and he knows he has you.

turning away, you're ready to make a bit of a scene, ready to stomp your feet, ready to forget everything about your day but you can't. an ungodly strength has you glued to your spot because satoru has other plans. his fingers wrap around your wrist, easily pulling you straight down onto his lap. he mumbles a quick 'the best boyfriend' before attacking you with a quick press of his lips to yours and a smirk and you know you're fucked. this wasn't your plan. this is bad. this is extremely bad. you know what he's gonna do and you can't do anything about it. no, no, no. you were supposed to stomp away and wait for him to come hug you from the back, being all cuddly and cute — this was not the plan.

it's his ultimate power move. tickles.

you hate him.

(you love him so much that you fear your heart will literally explode every time you're around him).

and then his fingers are running all over your sides, laughter bubbling from your throat, no matter how hard you try to hold it back. he manages to hold you down and torture you at the same time, it's unforgiving (and impressive but you won't tell him that). tears brim in your eyes and he can't stop looking at you.

this is how you should look all the time. not the tears in your eyes, of course, but the smile. oh, the smile. from one ear all the way to the other. the corners of your eyes crinkling. he can't wait to grow old with you and see the smile wrinkles, these'll definitely be one of his greatest achievements. he's so serious about it.

luckily, he doesn't keep it up for too long, letting you catch your breath – your head falling back onto his chest, right above his heart.

"you're such a dick."

"you love me so much, i'm surprised you haven't proposed yet."

another weak slap against his chest and he laughs. loud and full of love.

a comfortable silence. his hands rest on your waist, soaking in the feeling of your skin, the feeling of you on him, your heart so near his. you trying to get a grip and he's enjoying his time with you. he could be watching paint dry with you and he'd love it. he hopes you know that (he needs you to know that).

"we can still do a crying party... if you want." his breath tickles your ear. "i'll cry with you."

you're so grateful.

snaking your hands behind his neck, you pull him close. "thank you."

"anything for you. everything for you."

[swkbiggestdefender]

Headcannon that wukong feels incredibly uncomfortable and anxious whenever macaque shapshift into him because he only get reminded of how macaque tried to take his place and hurted his master and brothers using his face

[areyoudoingthis]

I am SO grateful that ed and stede exist as characters exactly as they are. I'm so grateful for these two men who are traumatized and messed up and struggle to even like themselves, who are terrible at communicating, who make enough mistakes between the two of them to fill an entire ocean. I am so grateful to watch them struggle and be seen and be loved and reach out for the things they want and are maybe starting to believe that they deserve. I'm so grateful that the show lets them fall in love and get together exactly as they are, that it doesn't say they need to wait until they've become some unattainably perfect version of themselves before they have permission to have that. i am so grateful for ofmd