#that's just a little bit

[katastrophic-n3vulaa]

a little excerpt from a new daredevil and avengers fic im writing.

premise: matt did die at midland circle, but he learnt many things from stick, and he can be the devil in more than name, so he refused to fall.

The world is on fire.

All his nerves are firing, the cuts on his body like flows of molten rock, the raw skin over his torso is covered in flaking patches of blood, the microscopic particles in the air running like sandpaper over his open skin, the vibrations of a train more than twenty blocks away arching through his bones, the lines of still-warm blood that flow down his body feels like someone carving a white-hot knife through him even though blood isn’t even close to that temperature-

Footsteps sound on steel sixteen blocks away. He flinches, burying his head deeper into his shoulders, but he can still hear all of it- 

The minivan with AC/DC blaring through the speakers and the shouts and yells of the eleven people drunk and dancing thirty-seven blocks away, the cars on the streets, the screech of breaks failing as one car slams into a corner shop’s glass window, taking a drunk couple with them into death,

a man with a broken rib and a woman with a dislocated shoulder screaming and yelling at each other in Romanian, as a little girl two rooms over holds her baby brother in his crib crying, three pairs of people having sex, the dying heartbeat of an old woman sitting on the side of the road, staring up at the stars,

the gunfight at the docks, two kids screaming for someone to save their father as an alcoholic mother smashes a bottle into his exposed back, a teen sitting on top of a ten-storey building zipping up a bag and stepping off the ledge-

A child in the corner of a room, gagged and long since out of tears shivering violently as their blood pressure drops to lethal levels, a sister curling around the dying body of her older brother held by her mother and father as their son dies of something that could’ve been treated had they been anywhere else,

the screams of children, teens, adults and elders alike, the laughs of thirteen different people- some hysterical, some cruel, one joyful- and the thousands of different heartbeats he hears-

He can hear the gravel under his feet, the scrape of his bare feet across it, the bones in his body moving, joints rotating as his ligaments move in an instinctual way to walk, his muscles contracting and expanding, his blood rushing around his body, the blood still running on the outside of his body over skin, his heartbeat, the grinding of his teeth and his eyes blinking but he can’t see and he hasn’t been able to since he was nine-

He shudders as the scent of rotting and decaying bodies rush over him, joining the smell of salt, wind, pollen, dead fish, sulphur, motor oil, sweat, sex, alcohol, skin, nylon, plastic, burning rubber, metal, leather, cologne, perfume, tears, bricks and more and more and more and more-

But he hears familiar humming from a familiar place as he clenches his eyes shut to stop the dust and sound and light from touching them, and he stumbles from an alley as the talking of four people becomes crystal clear, he can hear the mechanical whirring from a man’s chest,

the high-pitched endless squeal of hearing-aids from another, the trained quiet from a woman, and the heavy thundering heartbeat from a man who’s muscles twitch then move as the man steps towards him, and he can hear the man’s lungs contract and air start moving as the man’s vocal folds move and the man starts yelling, “sir!” and he flinches, burying his head further into his shoulders and limping on forward to that familiar place.

bc i haven't slept, for anyone who actually reads all the way down here, you get a present called the google doc link where i put my chapters. all it's got is some of chapter 1 at the moment

Also, the 'him' refers to matt, because he quite literally just revived himself and escaped after a year of semi-torture, and he doesn't remember his name yet.

the man refers to steve (captain america) most of the time

also i know the formatting is shit, but ao3 has more space so hopefully it dont look as shit on there

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[uncanny-tranny]

I think so many people are so deeply alienated from themselves that they have no clue how to exercise their free will and autonomy. For some, this alienation runs so deep that they are afraid of their own autonomy and humanity. It is completely understandable why one would have those feelings, but it can be worrisome.

I want to help others who feel this way, so here are small things I have done to exercise my free will:

Add "guilty pleasure" songs to playlists and actually listen to them (I have a ton of late 1990s-early 2000s music I listen to now proudly that I never listened to in the past out of shame)

Getting the décor item, bath set, bed spread, ect. in the patterns you like, even if it's "childish" (I got a dinosaur-themed wastebasket from the kids' décor section and I adore it)

Taking a new route to get to a place you go to often

Eat dessert first

Celebrate well, and often

Collect things that are "odd" or don't seem like an "acceptable" thing to collect (somebody on my "for you" page collects dandelion crayola crayons and it was so cool!!!!!!)

Incorporate one new piece in an outfit you wear frequently (e.g., a new chain, a necklace, ribbons, bracelets, ect.). Challenge yourself to add onto the outfits if you feel up for it.

Sing along to songs without worrying that you sound "good" or your intonation is completely accurate

Read a book from a genre you weren't allowed to read as a kid (comics, thrillers, mysteries, anything!)

Walk without having a specific destination or goal

Pick up a new craft without expecting yourself to master it or to ever be "good" enough. Get your hands messy.

I don't want to shame anybody for not feeling as though they have free will or that they are exempt from exercising it. However, I wanted to give ideas so that you might read this list and find your own ways to express your intrinsic autonomy and will. You deserve to be a person, to feel alive, not just living. That is what our lives are for.

[dirtflunk]

deranged freaks. absolute weirdos. throw rocks at them

[capinejghafa]

David is the only valid tua cast member in this interview.... also, I love how they probably though he was joking he was was deadass serious and they're like jk!

[Source]

[lettuccine]

pov: you play poker game with marcille

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The squad of all time has arrived on scene.

[saphushia]

btw. i made this quick guide of some of the natural size and proportion reference points in the human body. of course this all varies even irl, and you can stylize however you want, so ymmv but thought it might be helpful for some folks.

[hinamie]

surprise it's yuri!!!in 2024

[bacchuschucklefuck]

typical tavern scene

[spoopdeedoop]

WYD WHEN MY GANG PULL UP !!!

[civetcider]

[ionomycin]

temple at the end of the road

[mildmayfoxe]

ARTISTS! UPLIFT EACH OTHER! ☞ shop / patreon ☜

[inkskinned]

you're in the habit of denying yourself things.

if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.

but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?

what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.

and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.

you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.

so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.

it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.

sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.

oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.

[twilight-zoned-out]

Learning about the Doctor Who specials' expanded budget: oh no, what if they overuse CGI to look more 'professional' and high-budget?

The first scene of the Doctor Who Special: