#I'm so silly :3 I need to be made of plastic or wood RIGHT NOW

[dollking081]

↑作る。#bjddolls #bjd #bjdfaceup #doll #ドール #人形 #makeup god I fucking wish that was me

[sequinsmile-x]

Fragments

The swing set may have been her idea, but building it himself - and not hiring someone to do it like she suggested - was his.

AKA - in which Aaron breaks his hand and Emily looks after him when he wakes up from surgery.

-x-

Hi besties,

I felt the need to write some low stakes whump, and this is what came out!

Life has been kicking me in the butt a little this week. Anxiety is a weird thing and my brain is acting like I'm being hunted for sport right now...so that's not particularly fun. So writing something soft and silly is exactly what I needed.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Whump, minor injuries

Words: 2.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

The swing set was her idea. 

She’d always wanted one as a little kid, but her mom would never buy one. She’d say it didn’t make any sense since they moved so much, but now she was older, Emily was sure it was more to do with it not fitting the aesthetic of her mother’s home. If you hadn’t known Elizabeth, you wouldn’t have known she had a child. There were no toys where anyone could see them, and any pictures of Emily were in her mother’s office, hidden away behind heavy wooden doors as if loving her daughter, as if being proud of her, would make her seem weak to anyone who cared to look. 

Emily and Aaron’s home couldn’t be more different. 

There were toys everywhere, doomed to be strewn around the house no matter how often Emily or Aaron would tidy them away. There were photos on every wall, snapshots of them, of their life, printed and framed for all to see. The fridge was covered in pictures Jack had drawn at school and handprint paintings Lucas had done at daycare. It was messy and beautiful and hers, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

So when Jack asked them if they could have a swingset at home, his smile wide as they stood in the park and he pushed his little brother on the swing, she knew she could only say yes. She’d simply looked over Jack’s head at her husband, and he’d smiled at her, a silent agreement that they were on the same page. They’d bought the swing set that night, huddled together in bed once the boys were asleep, her laptop in her lap as she leaned back against Aaron, going back and forth between a few options before they’d settled on the one they’d wanted. It was only when it arrived, three boxes full of bits of wood, metal and plastic ready and waiting to be built, that she and Aaron finally disagreed on something to do with it all.

The swingset may have been her idea, but building it himself - and not hiring someone to do it like she suggested - was his. 

Emily sighs as she looks out of the kitchen window, shaking her head lovingly as she watches Aaron frown at the next pile of wood he has to add to the partially constructed frame of the swing set. He was ridiculously handsome, his hands on his hips as he stands there in an old pair of jeans and a polo shirt, and his confusion only seemed to add to it. She smiles as she watches Jack stare at the instructions right along with him, standing in the same stance as his father, as he tries to help. He’d been insistent on being a part of it, so Aaron had agreed, telling him that he could pass him his tools when he needed them - an offer that had made the little boy’s eyes sparkle with delight. 

“Mama! ‘eggies!” 

She turns to look at Lucas, and she chuckles.  The 18-month-old was frowning at her from his high chair, looking every bit like his father as he furrows his tiny brow, his hands flat against the tray trapping him in place as he pats it loudly.

“Sorry, baby,” she says, returning her attention to chopping vegetables for his lunch, “Mama got distracted by-”

She’s cut off as she hears a pained yell from the backyard, and she looks up, gasping when she sees Aaron sitting on the ground, his left hand cradled against his chest. Jack is visibly upset, his eyes wide as he turns to look at the house. 

“Mom!” He yells loudly, the tremble in his voice noticeable even as he shouts. She puts the knife down and turns to look at Lucas, a fake smile painted across her face as she tries to make sure she doesn’t freak him out any more than he already was. She pulls him out of his chair and takes him to the living room, carefully placing him in his playpen before she kisses the top of his head. 

“Mama will be right back, sweet boy,” she says, running out of the living room and to the back door, taking the steps down from the porch two at a time. Aaron is sitting on the ground, and Jack is kneeling next to him. The case of power tools is lying on the grass between them, different parts and tools scattered from where it had opened as it hit the ground, and her brain starts to paint a picture of what happened. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Aaron grits out, forcing a smile she knows is for Jack’s sake, his hand still cradled against his chest, “Just a little accident, that’s all.”

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” Jack says, sniffing as he tries to hold back tears, “I was trying to be careful, but it was heavy.” 

“It’s okay, buddy,” Aaron says, his jaw tight, “I know it was an accident.”

Emily can see how much pain her husband is in, can see it in the redness that climbs up his neck, in the vein pulsing in his forehead, and she turns to look at Jack.

“Sweetie, Luke is in the living room - can you go look after him for me?” She asks, and he hesitates, his eyes shining as he looks back and forth between her and Aaron. She wipes a tear from his cheek and smiles encouragingly at him, “I’ll make sure Dad is okay.” She assures him, and he nods before standing up and running back into the house. She waits until he’s gone, and she turns to look back at Aaron, kneeling on the ground in front of him, the thought of grass stains on her jeans the last thing on her mind. “What happened?” 

Aaron groans, “I asked Jack to pass me the drill, I don’t think he heard me properly, and he tried to lift the whole case.” he winces as he tries to flex his hand. “He dropped it. It landed on my hand.” 

She winces on his behalf, “Fuck, honey. That’s got to weigh 30lbs,” she says, reaching out for him, smiling sympathetically when he flinches, “You’re worse than the boys,” she quips, something easing in her chest when he rolls his eyes at her, a hint of her Aaron peeking out from behind the one in front of her who was trying to hide his pain, “Let me see.” 

He nods and holds his hand out, “It’s not that bad.” 

She gasps when she sees it, unable to hold back her reaction at the bruise already forming on his hand, at how swollen it is, his wedding ring already looking tight, “Aaron, that looks like it could be broken.” 

He shakes his head, “No, it’s okay,” he says, smiling at her as if she couldn’t see right through it, “Nothing an icepack won’t cure.” 

“This looks like a little more than a kiss and a Batman band-aid could cure,” she says, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes. She's gentle as she reaches out for his hand and cups it between both of hers. He flinches again, his teeth clenched together as he tries to hold back a groan. “I need to take you to the hospital.” 

“No, it’s fine-”

“Honey, we need to get it looked at, okay?” She says, standing up and then offering a hand to help him, her heart clenching in her chest as he cries out in pain as he stands up, his left hand automatically reaching out to balance himself out of habit, “If it’s just a sprain or a bruise I’ll make sure you have ice packs on a constant rotation for the next several days, but if it’s broken a doctor needs to look at it.”

He sighs because she’s right, and they both knew it, and there was nothing to be gained in fighting it. “Fine.” 

She smiles and leans in to kiss him, her lips stamped against his, and she cups his cheek as she pulls back, “I’ll call Jess and ask if she can come over to look after the boys.”

He nods as they start to walk back towards the house, his hand cradled against his chest again, “Thank you for not saying it.” 

She furrows her brow, “For not saying what?” 

“For not saying I told you so about building the swing set myself.” 

She smiles and turns to look at him, “I’d never do that,” she says, pausing purposely to let her smile get wider, “Not whilst your hand looks like something out of a horror movie.”

___

He needed surgery. 

She’d done her best to keep things lighthearted while they were in the emergency room. She’d held his good hand and talked about anything and everything, focusing on stories about the boys he already knew, the thought of their sons a comfort to them both. 

When the doctor confirmed that his hand was broken, that he needed surgery to fix it, it felt like a punch to the gut. She’d recovered quickly, smiling through her anxiety and concern for her husband so she could support him, her hand tight around his right one as she assured him everything would be okay. 

The wait while he was in surgery was awful, her heart in her throat the entire time as she switched between pacing the waiting room and sitting with her leg bouncing up and down. It was too familiar, too similar to when she’d sat in a waiting room in another hospital a lifetime ago. Back when he wasn’t hers, when he was just her boss whom she could no longer deny being in love with. The moment the doctor comes by to tell her that he’s in recovery, she’s on her feet and following her as she listens intently as she’s told how the surgery went, the coil of anxiety in her chest loosening ever so slightly the moment she sees him. She sits down next to him, making sure she’s on his right side so she can hold his hand, and she links their fingers together, lifting their hands to kiss his knuckles.

“Hi honey,” she says even though he’s still asleep, kissing his knuckles again before she lets their hands rest on the bed. It feels like a lifetime before she wakes up, before she feels a slight squeeze of her hand, and she smiles when he turns his head to look at her, his eyes bleary as they meet hers. “Welcome back.” 

“Hi,” he says, his voice rough before he clears his throat, “Can I have some water?” 

“Of course,” she replies, turning to grab the plastic cup behind her, “Here you go.”

He lifts his left hand to take it from her and then groans, pain throbbing in it as he fails to lift it from the bed, “Damn it.” 

“Here I’ve got it for you,” she says, pointing the straw towards him so he can take a sip, “It sucks it’s your dominant hand.” 

He hums as he sips the water, “It really does,” he replies, and he looks down at his hand, his eyes fixed on the bright white cast, “What did the doctor say?” 

“You’ve got more metal in there than bone now, I think,” she says, squeezing his right hand, “And you’ll be doing a lot of physical therapy before you can go back to work, but you’ll be okay.” 

He nods and turns to look at her briefly before he focuses on his hand again, looking for something but unsure what. “Are the boys okay?” 

“Lucas told me to kiss it better, and is delighted to be spending the night with Jess,” she replies, her smile fading a little. “Jack feels guilty. I had to tell him a dozen times it wasn’t his fault, that these things happen, but I don’t think he believes me.” 

“I’ll talk to him,” he says, still staring at his hand. “I don’t want him to blame himself,” he furrows his brow as he turns to look at her. “Where’s my wedding ring?”

She freezes, her grip on him briefly tightening as concern lances through her gut, hot and overwhelming as she looks at him. But then she sees the haziness in his eyes, confusion brought on by painkillers and anaesthesia, and she knows he doesn’t remember. 

“They had to cut it off in the ER, honey,” she says, running her fingers through his hair, “Your fingers were too swollen for them to take it off normally.” 

She hadn’t thought too much about it in the moment, more worried about the fact that he could lose a finger if they didn’t get it off quickly, but she’d felt the weight of it when he was in surgery. The two broken pieces of his wedding ring heavy in her pocket as she waited to know that he’d be okay. She remembered choosing their rings together, his arm around her waist as they chose matching bands that would complement her engagement ring perfectly. She remembered slipping it onto his finger on their wedding day, smiling as she thought about it being there forever, a sign to the world that he was hers. 

His eyes go wide and they start to shine, tears she thinks that must surprise him too, gathering in them, “They cut it off?” 

The break in his voice, the way it cracks like Jack’s and Lucas’s did when they were upset, fractures her heart. Breaks something he’d repaired himself, and she sighs sadly, lifting his right hand to kiss his knuckles as she stands up to get closer, sitting on the edge of his bed so she can lean in, her forehead against his and her hair draping around them. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says, kissing his lips and then his forehead as she pulls back, wiping a tear from his cheek the moment it slips free, “It’s okay. We can get it fixed.” 

“But it’s my wedding ring,” he says, “I’ve never taken it off.” 

“I know, baby,” she says, running her knuckles down his cheek and then his jaw, “I know. But we can fix it,” she repeats, pushing his hair from his forehead like she did for the boys when they were sad or hurt, “I know a guy who happens to be the best jeweller on the east coast.” 

He frowns at her, “You know a guy?” 

She hums, “Well, more accurately, my mom knows him,” she says, standing and encouraging him to move so she can climb into bed with him, “So I can call her, listen to her criticise everything from my parenting to my career choices for 20 minutes and then ask for his number.” 

He settles against her, his head against her chest as he tilts it just enough to look up at her, his eyes full of wonder as if he still somehow couldn’t believe quite how much she loved him. “You’d do that for me?” 

She smiles and hugs him, his head against her chest as she drops a kiss against his hairline, “I’d do anything for you.” 

[dippingmytoesin]

Jason had made an odd habit of staring at things. Too much. Eyes not glazed enough to be zoning out. As if he was staring at each dent and divot, each splinter of wood, each scratch, each stain- on everything.

People were starting to worry. His men when he feverishly scrubbed his knives after every mission, even when they didn't need it. Civilians he rescued when he would narrow his eyes at an empty ally too long. Other bats when he stared at his gloved hands like he was searching for answers in the threads.

But what they all noticed? How *differently* he looked at weapons. Used weapons. His eyes shone in a way that made the others take a second glance- trying to see what they missed, what they overlooked that made their boss, the heroic Crime boss, their brother, their son, react that way.

But no one else saw it.

Jason never mentioned it, and other people just dismissed it as them being silly. Of course there's nothing there- what would be there? Jason was just a little odd, nothing more.

-Cue Jason sitting in his apartment with the curtains closed, and towels over all his mirrors using plastic cutlery and only mugs so he wouldn't see his reflection in anything-

After a patrol, Jason was doing his -now ushual- routine of washing his knives, scrubbing his boots, and changing his gloves so he could wash the other pair.

"Why does he do that?" A relativly new goon asked.

"I think he has OCD." Another replied.

"Eh, whatever. dosnt really matter." A third goon glanced out the window of the warehouse base they had set up. Nightwing. Oh, crap. Nightwing was outside.

"Hey, boss? One of your viglantie buddies is outside."

Jason looked up, glancing down at his knives. He had washed them a few times, and the water was...

He squinted his eyes.

...Clear. Good enough.

He holstered his knives, and turned around to face his men, who were doing basic matinace of their own weapons, and patching themselves up.

"Which one?" Jason asked.

"Nightwing."

He sighed in response. "Allright. Dont wait up for me, go home when you're done."

He got a series of "yes, sir."'s and "yes, boss."'s from his guys as he climbed out of one of the high up wearhouse windows.

He pulled himself onto the roof of his warehouse and looked around, quickly spotting the viglantie.

"Jaybird!" Came a familiar voice. Jason hopped onto the building the blue-clad vigilante was standing on.

"What do you want?" Jason asked, cutting right to business. He didn't get visits without reasons.

"I came to check up on you. You haven't been very active the the Batchat lately."

"I'm never active unless it involves me."

"I know, but... you seem off."

Jason rolled his eyes. RIght. Of course he did. He was going insane and hallucnating. But he couldn't just tell him that.

"Well, I'm fine."

"You've been acting weird, and we all know it. I would've said something earlier but I thought you would want me to stay out of it. But it's been 3 months. What's up?"

Jason's eyes lowered to a small puddle of rainwater on the roof. A dead, bloody, pale, beat-up teenager stared back at him with glossy eyes.

"Jaybird?" His brother asked, concern laced in his voice.

"It's nothing. Get you're nose out of my business." He snapped, anger sudden but not new.

"...let me drop you home at least?"

Jason huffed. Of course he wanted to drop him home.

"Yeah, fine- not. No." He had almost forgotten about his apartment. Dick couldn't see it. He would call him crazy. Maybe he was crazy, but that wasn't the point. He'll just play it off as being scarcastic.

"Of CoUrSe YoU cAn CoMe To My hOuSe WiTh Me"

He watched dicks eyebrows furrow. Maybe this was too much?

"...I'm coming back with you, Jaybird."

"No. You're not. You need to respect my privacy." Shit

"I've been to your apartment before, I already know where you live."

"So? If I don't want you to come over, you need to respect my decisions."

"Jay- that's not-"

"I don't care, and I don't want your excuses. Go home, Dick."

The vigilante frowned at the crime boss. But they both left separate ways.

~~~~~~~

When Dick got back to the cave, he found 2 of his brothers and his father waiting for him.

"How'd it go?" Tim asked.

"Why is Todd acting oddly?"

"It went... poorly. And I don't know. He wouldn't even let me take him home. And he had... a weird look in his eyes."

"Does Todd not wear a helmet?" Damian countered.

"Yes, but... I could sort of... feel it? His eyes wandered more than usual."

Tim nodded. "I get it."

Damian rolled his eyes. "I do not."

"He was defensive of his apartment... I think he's hiding something there." Dick mentioned, a little hesitantly.

They all exchanged glances.

"You three can NOT break into your brother's apartment when he's acting strangely. Especially if he doesn't want you there. It's his safe space- we can't ruin that for him." Bruce warned.

~~~~~

Dick pulled the window open, pushing past the curtains covering it. They couldn't see into the apartment at all; there were curtains at every window. Which only added to their suspicion.

"I'm convinced there's something here. You check the bedroom, I'll check the kitchen." Dick nodded at times words, heading towards the bedroom.

The windows were predictably covered, but what he didn't expect, was his mirror to be covered as well. Why would he cover the mirror?

Digging around a little more, he didn't find much out of the ordinary. Books neatly on shelves, a mug left on his nightstand, and several hidden guns.

He moved on to the bathroom. The mirror was also covered with a towel. Beyond that, there was an oddly high amount of cleaning products. He recognised them as batmans go-to for cleaning off blood. That... is probably not good. The bottles were almost empty, and the whole room reeked of chemical cleanliness. It made Dick's nose wrinkle.

He checked the under-the-sink cabinet. There were more bottles. More than Dick would keep stocked to last him a year and a half. He frowned, and exited the bathroom to meet Tim in the living room.

"...What did you find?" Tim asked.

"His mirrors are covered, and he has talked up a... deep cleaning habit. His bathroom smells strongly of chemicals and he has way too many bottles of cleaner."

Tim hummed. "He doesn't have any metal or glass in the kitchen. He only has mugs and reusable plastic utensils- like what young kids would use. He even has plastic, but thee weird, painted kitchen knives."

"Why did he make thee changes? What do all of those things have in common?" Dick asked.

"Well, the windows, cups, and mirrors are all made of glass. Not sure about the plastic cutlery..."

"Those are all reflective," Dick provided.

"Yeah... and metals spoons and such too. But what about the chemicals?"

They thought on it for a few moments.

"It could be not related? Like, it could be something else."

"Maybe. And... you said that his eyes were wandering? Do you know what he could have been looking at?"

"There was.... a puddle on the ground."

"Which would have been reflective!" They said at the same time.

Jason thinks he might have gone insane.

The Lazarus Pit may have healed his amnesia, but ever since then he’s been seeing… things.

Shadowy figures flickering in the corners of his eyes. Sometimes when he looks in the mirror, for just a moment he can see his corpse staring back at him, wounds from the Joker’s crowbar still fresh. Then it’s back to normal.

Other times they’re more… persistent. Illusory corpses rest in places they have long been removed from. Or sometimes just pieces of them, often random splatters of blood. The blades he fight with become soaked in it, forever tainted red with the blood spilled on them. He takes to cleaning them relentlessly, never able to tell if there’s actually any grime left under all the red.

Perhaps part of it is just his guilty conscious. If it is, it’s not working; the sights only make him more angry, more likely to lash out at the criminals they remind him of.

[awesomenessdoesstuffsometimes]

1. Why did you choose your url:

I made it when I was 10 and used it everywhere, got attached etc . . Tumblr is the only place I haven't changed it to "apollo_ds" cause I don't want my silly mutuals to not recognize me

2. Any sideblogs? Name them and what they're for

Christ I have a lot. I technically own @concorpofficial but it's inactive these days. I rb concorp fan art occasionally. @awesomeness-goes-hhhhh is my more spammy blog, used to be my oc blog before I found out the "ocs" were alters. @blogwhereireblogthingsisee SPAM and I upload resources here for me to use later . @peter-arnell in joke with a buddy. @daily-matt-parappa inactive but what it says on the tin. @ask-nintendo-something used to be an oc ask blog til he showed up in my brain and runs it now. @the-sides-dimension my system blog. I don't like posting sys course on main so it's over there. Not all that though. @making-gender my MOGAI coining blog :).

3. How long have you been on Tumblr?

Uhhh 2020. I was a hermitblr.

4. Do you have a queue tag?

I don't queue. When I am active, the followers will be graced with my reblogs.

5. Why did you start your blog?

I don't remember. I know I had it a while before I was active but I just hanged in hermitblr

6. Why did you choose your pfp?

My pfp used to be a drawing of me/my Internet persona, now it's a drawing of ADSS (who is my persona. But they're an alter too because ofc they are.) and I. Adss on the left me on the right.

7. Why did you choose your banner?

Funny picture of Paul McCartney. It's an album cover I forget which one. The one with temporary secretary.

8. What's your post with the most notes

There's one with like 2 or 3k from when I posted screenshots of hermitcraft chats. I forget which one it is.

9. How many mutuals do you have?

Idk less than 10 but I love them dearly. I'll be honest I don't remember where prev came from but I love seeing em in my notes .

10. How many followers? 150

11. How many people are you following? 554

12. Have you ever made a shit post?

If you think about it.... All posts are "shit" posts ......

13. How long do you spend on Tumblr each day?

Varies from 30 mins to 2 hours.

14. Have you ever gotten into a fight on your blog?

Less "fight" more I say something and pedos and ableists get mad in the replies.

15. How do you feel about "you need to rb" posts?

One way ticket for them to not get any interaction from me. If it's good, a spiteful like.

16. Do you like tag games?

Any and all acknowledgement of me is appreciated and will be reciprocated.

17. Do you like ask games?

Refer to 16

18. Are any of your mutuals Tumblr famous?

Uhh I don't think so but the people here I look up to feel like it to me

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Only minor friend crushes 😭

20. What's the last song you listened to?

You & Me, tally hall

21. What show are you currently watching?

Rewatching dungeon meshi with boyfriend, watching MLP because I'm nostalgic and weak

22. Sweet, savory, or spicy?

Savory and spicy 🥵🥵

23. Relationship status?

JUST HIT 3 YEARS WITH MY BOY YESTERDAY!!!

24. Current obsession?

My always obsession is my video game guys(OLEASE ASK)... My current hyperfixations are dungeon meshi, spy x family, abd ponytown (strike me dead)

25. 9 albums you've been listening to lately?

Ok I'm very passionate

The Age of Plastic - The Buggles - 1980

Damn Skippy - Lemon Demon - 2005

Hip to The Javabean - Lemon Demon - 2004

The Normal Album - Will Wood - 2020

Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum - Tally Hall - 2005

Boingo Alive - Oingo Boingo - 1988

Fashion Nugget - CAKE - 1996

I Like Fun - They Might Be Giants - 2018

Mesmerize - System of a Down - 2005

26. TAGGING

I throw this curse upon ye @likethewizardyk @roxiusagi @animaysons @75screamingtoads @bitter-goodbyes @mag139 @fireflycollective @definesupposedtobe

nine albums or songs I've been listening to lately x nine people I’d like to get to know better x tag game with no name

(thank you for the tag @lianhuajing !!)

1. why did you choose your url? uh. it was a play on "rose tinted glasses"

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them. nope!

3. how long have you been on tumblr? I think 2022? i knew about it before, just never bothered to make a blog

4. do you have a queue tag? don't kill me, what's a queue tag?

5. why did you start your blog in the first place? I had some Thoughts about Blue Lock and wanted to post meta for it

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp? uhh Flora.

7. why did you choose your header? Reo is one of my Blorbos and I just really liked that panel of him

8. what’s your post with the most notes? probably the "do you download fics" poll

9. how many mutuals do you have? about 20? i don't remember

10. how many followers do you have? 120?

11. how many people do you follow? 91

12. have you ever made a shitpost? yes. i think.

13. how often do you use tumblr each day? an hour?

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? nope

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts meh. some of them are funny i guess

16. do you like tag games? yep! it's nice interaction

17. do you like ask games? i do! but uh. it's a silent empty void here. an echo chamber, if you will.

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? i have no idea but i see @kingsandbastardz a lot in the mlc community

19. do you have a crush on a mutual? nope

20. what is the last song you listened to? 若梦 by 周深

21. what are you currently watching? i just finished The Double! probably starting on Dashing Youth next

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy? savoury!

23. what is your current relationship status? single

24. what is your current obsession? The Double,,,,

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

若梦 by 周深

如故 by 张碧晨

如初 by 张碧晨

借过一下 by 周深

万物不如你 by 张杰

Our dawn is hotter than day by Seventeen

Hitorijana by Seventeen

my music taste is kinda...i tend to stick to a few artists...

26. tagging (no obligation to do this!) @randomingoftherandomness @good-vs-evo @chrysofightme @bbcphile