#Which I used to love writing about

[lxspedeza]

uh.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[cosmicredcadet]

enough stories about how someone learns to truely be happy through love. i want a story where someone is desperately seeking out love thinking it's the only way to be happy only for them to learn by the end that happiness is what they make of it and they don't need love at all to make it.

[dukeofthomas]

Here's my controversial opinion; if you're trying to write Bruce as a non-abusive, good parent, you should also write him respecting his kids' privacy, boundaries, and not stalking&surveying them.

[obsidianbit]

I love this gay ass show with its literally life ending injuries that heal immediately, but only when convenient to the plot, and its ridiculous use of modern phrases, and its laughing in the face of historical accuracy, and its kissing the face of the fans instead of trying to outwit them, and the way everyone involved in the show seem to go 'I KNOW RIGHT! I'M EXCITED TOO!' instead of mocking the fans

[gummi-ships]

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[front-facing-pokemon]

[klanced]

when adam met 11yo keith he immediately knew that keith was gay and was like i have GOT to support this kid!! (runs into traffic) meanwhile shiro spent years operating under the assumption that keith had like a gender thing going on

[antigonesghosts]

What I loved about Cinderella's Castle is it is so entirely about Ella. We know starkid can handle a show with tons and tons of characters but I found it quite refreshing for it to be so wholly her story? I think it was a lovely choice for this show and man Bryce did such a perfect job of it, she is truly such a star

[sysig]

You're still standing off to the side. Somehow, center stage has shifted from under your feet without you realizing, and you're standing in the wings, performing to no one.

Starring Role (Patreon)

[chirpsythismorning]

El being *12 hours earlier* than the Cali timeline when she arrives at Nina. Will saying ‘it’s been 9 hrs’ in the scene following his monologue in the van.

We know that at some point their timelines merged when they arrived to save her…

But we don’t know when exactly those alignments took place when they were still apart… which just makes you wonder…

[itsyagurlchip]

*classic trope where the dca finds reader's house and lives with them now.*

Moon: "Damn, this bitch is broke. Like- really broke."

Sun: "Don't say that! Everyone has their difficulties- Wait, what are you doing with that disposable plate?"

Reader: "I'm washing it, saving the environment and whatnot."

Sun: "..."

[sistersgrimm13writes]

I think the second most beautiful thing about Furiosa and Jack (the first, of course, being the "My Jack", "My Fury" scene that still hits me like a throat punch) is that they didn't try to shoehorn in a typical romance. They didn't try to force today's version of what a relationship looks like onto these two because it would have never worked.

They took Furiosa, a girl who lost everything so early, that had only been the object of powerful men, who was forced over and over and over again to relearn everything she knew at the behest of monsters dressed as leaders, and gave her the Praetorian Jack, a man in a position of power that never took anything from her at all.

Dementus took her mother, took her home, and took her voice from her under the guise of affection. She was not a person, but an appendage forcefully attached to him.

Immortan Joe, for as kindly (very loose definition of kindly) as he treated his wives, saw her as nothing more than a womb, an object that he could use to birth a boy to continue his iron rule over the Citadel. He took her personhood, her childhood, just as surely as Dementus did. They both kept her in a gilded cage that she had no hope of escaping.

Then, she became a boy, and she was still only an appendage in the great war machine of Joe. She worked with the War Boys and the Black Thumbs as a replaceable piece of his engine that would someday lose its function or die.

And when she finally, finally, gets a chance to escape, to try (and most likely fail) to go back to a home that she can't even be sure exists anymore, she loses that, too. Except, this time, the man who comes back for her doesn't offer her a cage but a key. He sees in her a picture of himself, someone who has learned to be savage by force and not by choice.

He gives her a place to learn to be a person again, gives her the tools and resources to survive, gives her the limited autonomy that his position of power brings, and eventually even gives her his own past without taking anything from her at all. He gives her all of this and then was completely willing to let her go, never presuming that he would be allowed to go with her, only wanting to help her get wherever that was. And when she chooses him, chooses to trust him with the peach pit, he looks absolutely gutted, like he never thought in his wildest dreams that she would.

Their relationship is ambiguous when you look at them through the lens of modern relationships, but it is so beautiful in the context of the world that they find themselves forced into because it is a relationship that they chose. It doesn't matter if they never kissed, or never said "I love you", because it was never about that. It was about choosing each other over and over again, trusting each other with their squishiest places, and knowing for a fact that they would never hurt each other.

Praetorian Jack was a mentor, a peer, and the only person that Furiosa had ever been allowed to choose and he chose her right back.

[ratatatastic]

"Is [Barkov] a normal dude? Meaning like—is he just like, you're having a cheeseburger some day and he's like 'Oh, no, no, no! I need this, I need the superfoods,' like is he kind-of... is he a normal guy?" "'Is that Wagyu or no?'" "'I need, you know, the best of the best,' Like how is he?" "He's undercover really funny, especially when you get to know him. I don't think he said much for the first 3 to 5 years. But I always joke with him I've never been invited to his house and we've played together for 10 years." "Dude, Brandon Montour said the same thing! We had him on last year! He's like, 'Dude, he's never had us over! We're always like—' But he doesn't live by all you guys, right? He kind-of lives a little further out?" "Yeah, he lives 20-30 minutes away in Boca [Raton.] But, yeah, no I—Listen, it's just his personality. It's who he is, and we respect him for it. Like I said, he's a really funny guy when you get to know him, and sometimes he's got those one-liners. And, you know, he's one of those perfect humans, right? You know, one of the guys we all strive to be, and we'll all come short forever, but—yeah, he's a good person."

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

i hope this bit never ends if not for the fact that each time ekky has to say it he has to add another year to it which adds to the comedy of it all

"Hey, who's got the best setup on your team with the Panthers? When all the boys get together, 'We're going to your crib. We're gettin' on the jet skis,' whatever. Who's got the best setup?" "Yeah, um—Aaron [Ekblad]'s probably...I mean, Aaron's been there the longest. Hopefully, Barkov hears this! He's been there the longest, but he never invites the boys over to his house!" "Oh~ Barky!" "Is he cheap?" "I'm gonna call Barky out right now, and see if he can invite the whole team over next year..." "Is he cheap? Is he cheap? What is it?" "Will he do it?" "Oh, he's up in 9 East—obviously, like quiet, unbelievable guy, but he's the only up in Boca [Raton.] So I don't know if anybody wants to even drive up to Boca..." "Oh, Fancyland Zone..." "What do you mean? How far is that away from where you are? Like, and everybody else?" "Yeah, we're all in Ft. Lauderdale, Las Olas—within probably... you know some families are in Parkland by the arena, but we're all within probably 10 minutes away and he's up 30, 40 minutes away so."

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.25.23 (x)

the boys ribbing sasha for living so far away and never inviting them to his house but still going btw hes amazing and incredible and perfect and sososo good we say this to tease him but like this is just who he is as a person and we accept that so please dont misconstrue this into something its not this is a joke and we dont take it to heart

and on that topic its really a shame that NA media doesnt know how fucking funny and how absolutely unserious he can be. I understand the notion of diligent no-nonsense captain is a prevalent idea (which he is lets make that clear he takes hockey so seriously) but especially since this season hes said hes cut down on weight so he could skate faster (and the results show) so i understand where the questions are coming from knowing the track record but also

we've won a cup and hes ramped it up its fantastic and this is one of my favourite examples of it of how quippy he can be

happy to talk about my cappy!!! happy to tease my cappy!!!

"and you know hes one of those perfect humans right? you know one of the guys we all strive to be, and we'll all come short forever but yeah he's a good person" do you also cry about how terribly fond and sincere ekky gets about sasha

[ingravinoveritas]

Nothing says wedded bliss like sharing a photo of your ex-boyfriend on your anniversary and then making a post about your actual husband with a caption that never mentions love and instead is just a dig at his ability to take pictures...