#but I guess that's the thing huh

[shoutyourporpoise]

Just had sort of a brainwave about my own transness and how it relates to my depression which I am going to note here in a jumble.

So every winter my SAD-induced depression smashes into my head with a goddamn mallet and every single time it is world-ending, lie-in-bed, lose-your-passions, no-longer-a-person devastating.

And every spring I get better and am just the kind of depressed where it sucks to exist for a few days a week. Every summer, it decreases to a bout every fortnight or so and by then the last winter is such a distant memory that I go "oh wow maybe I'm better for good maybe I get to be someone who used to have REALLY BAD depression and that period of my life will be a distant memory." Winter comes, mallet to head, lather, rinse, repeat.

What this means is I'm like. Not medicated. I am either so depressed I can't do anything or I'm so much better that doing anything to address it seems pointless. And yet, I am still quite comfortable describing myself as someone who experiences depression even in summer when it's just a passing issue.

...

So. I have self-described as some type of nonbinary since my very early twenties, but refused to claim transness for myself until around 2020, because it felt like I was trivializing other trans folks' experiences by grouping myself in despite my milder issues. And even now, I told myself "yeah I'm trans but I'm not like...trans trans like it would be absurd for me to expect other people to see me as anything other than an ally given how cis I come off." And it, like just occurred to me how fucking weird that is especially given how I interface with my own depression.

Like oh yeah it's fine IT'S FINE!! It's just that whenever I get my period, I feel such an overwhelming crush of dysphoria over my chest that I start earnestly looking into how to establish that it gives me a poor quality of life so I can get insurance to cover a breast reduction. Yeah, yeah, I've had the page for aesthetic flat closures bookmarked for a minute I uh. Like looking at the options. When I was a child I dreamed of being told I was at risk for breast cancer so I'd have to have a preventative double mastectomy to save my life. When I picture myself in my 40s I have top surgery scars and am shaped like an egg and I'm loving it.

...but it only gets like. THAT BAD once a menstrual cycle. The rest of the time I'm "just" nonbinary and feel extremely angry when someone only refers to me as a woman. I haven't actually pulled the trigger on any possible breast reduction options. So I've been telling myself that this cannot be a trans experience because I apparently don't want it badly enough. Like I'm lucky, I have the savings to cover this type of surgery if I want to and while it'll be a significant dent in my savings I wouldn't actually go into debt over it.

But there are always things that money could go towards. A house. A wedding. An egg to sit on in case there's a rainy day/month/year and we need funds to keep the home afloat. Surgery is scary and I just had one last year and while I recovered well I still get the occasional ache that reminds me of the injury and do I want that in my chest forever? What if getting top surgery messes up my cool trans sternum tat? What if I hate it?

What if people ask me why I did it and I can't hide behind this weird fairytale that I've constructed since I was a child wherein I had breast cancer and they had to get rid of my breasts to save my life and I'll instead have to tell them the truth -- that once a month or so my breasts gave me such anguish...that they had to get rid of them to save my life?

Excuses, excuses. I always have them, for why I can't do this thing that I have dreamed about on some level since I was 9. And it's possible that won't change, but in the meantime is it fair for me to continue to deny that what I am experiencing is transness? That a profound desire to be regarded by all as a genderfluid creature coupled with an equally fluid desire to modify my body to match isn't just like. A trans experience?

[egophiliac]

like mother, like son, but less wholesome this time?

(I couldn't decide whether or not to put them together, so have them in all the different ways!)

[blujayonthewing]

awright here we go

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

Sup I’m back to feed you gremlins 

🏺⚔️💗Aphrodite Danny and Ares Phantom💗⚔️🏺

So if you’re been here long enough you’ll realize this as one of my first ever au and for some of my newer readers I’ll explain but before I do I just have to say Danny and Phantom are two very different people and now I can explain let’s go

After a few months after Danny being ‘Phantom’ Danny starts to feel… protective of himself???  Which is weird but ok it’s probably his imagination but over the course of a few weeks it gets weirder not bad weird but weird nonetheless like when he goes ghost it feels like he’s not really the one in control of his body and sometimes when the other ghosts get to rough with him he can hear a voice yell but not really being able to tell what its saying and Danny like Danny do is just kinda ignoring all this stuff because it feels nice..? Like being in a protective hug and knowing the person hugging you will kill for you if it makes you happy and all is well

and good until his parents see him transformed in to phantom they knock him out and bring him to their lab and after a few weeks jazz finds out what is happening ( Maddie and Jack told her that they had Danny go to something I didn’t really know what they would say ) And get him out of his restraints and turns on the portal or well try’s to because at that moment Maddie and Jack and a whole fight goes on well Danny is trying to get the portal working and Maddie unfortunately gets a good shot at Danny as he turns it on and causing him to get thrown in and it makes the portal ( that has enough energy to take out this universe ) and it does that exact thing it takes out Danny OG universe (✨ANGST✨ and not that Danny knows that right now ) considering Danny is knocked TF out again but this time it feels different like he unconsciously knows whatever is holding him will protect him with their whole core….

And Danny wakes up a few weeks later [ he really needs to stop passing out it’s starting to get annoying ] and looks around the room? Well it looks like a room it’s big and spacious it also looks a Greek temple bedroom with large marble pillars that indicate windows { you get the image} and now that Danny looks around he sees that his laying on a frankly to big bed and it has a large canopy with fabric as Danny looks around someone enters the room and leans against the wall and looks at Danny with a soft smile and as Danny looks in their direction he sees…Phantom but he looks different he’s wearing Greek style armor [and looking HOT in Danny’s eyes so he’s a blushing mess for a hot minute] and as he makes eye contact with Phantom it feels like he and Danny have known each other for as long as they’ve existed and a few shenanigans happen and would you look that that a couple who are deeply in love with each other.

And for what Danny and Phantom are they are the New Ancients of Love and Protection respectively {yes I’ve decided to change Danny to the Ancient of love}

And Now to what inspired this thing in the first place and that would be the God Games song it goes to hard anyway if you listened to it you can tell Athena has to convince the gods to let odysseus go and I thought “ what if I turned this into dc X dp and what tf is this??” Proceeds Down the rabbit hole that is pitch pearl and now you all have this word vomit I call a post and before I ramble even more let’s get to the DC part before this gets to long

Now for the DC part someone gets on the bad side of one of the Ancients and gets got and now the JL has to convince some of the Ancients you know like ( clockwork, frostbite, pandora etc) and of course Danny and phantom are there as the Aphrodite and ares part of the song. And that’s all I can think of the DC first the moment now on to the details of Danny and Phantom

For Danny I’m thinking something like this

Looking all majestic and shit ( also just imagine that his hair is black)

Also just a pic of phantom and Danny

They have the healthiest relationship you’ll ever see

And also if you want to make this as mom Danny you can have Dani and Dan as Phobos and Deimos just ima thought { forgot to add this in the beginning }

Anyway I hope you guys like this { P.S will add more if I feel like it} byeeee

[zivazivc]

the JD loosing touch with society adventures

imagine him rattling and sweating more and more the longer this goes on

While I patiently wait for @picory to make his 'how JD and Rhonda met' animatic I had to get this stupid idea out of my system...

bonus:

next step: they steal the car

[melancholic-pigeon]

Leftists on tumblr: listen to marginalized people about their own oppression

Jewish person: X thing is super antisemitic

Those very same leftists on tumblr: OH SO YOU SUPPORT MURDERING BABIES THEN? GENOCIDE APOLOGIST

Jewish person: here's an exhaustive list of sources going back thousands of years proving that X is antisemitic.

Leftists on tumblr: Doesn't count, colonizer!!!!!! /gets X tattooed on their forehead, puts an X bumper sticker on their car, calls people Genocide Supporters when they say "hey X is not allowed here because it's antisemitic"

Leftists on tumblr: "Why do Jews keep complaining about leftist antisemitism? I don't see it; it's clearly a distraction from talking about those Noble Savage Palestinians. Prove to me you're oppressed, X! X X X X!! CHANTS X FROM THE ROOFT0PS"

Jews: we don't super trust you guys not to call for our extermination, since you have repeatedly at every past opportunity

Leftists on tumblr: Look, I know antisemitism is annoying, but now is not the time to discuss blood libel when those Evil Jews are eating Palestinian babies!!! HASHTAG X

Jewish person: *rubs forehead as Turning from les mis plays in the background* (nothing changes, nothing ever can / round about the roundabout and back where you began)

Leftists on tumblr: SEE? THEY WON'T EVEN HAVE A GOOD FAITH DISCUSSION WITH ME 😭

Leftists on tumblr: "anyway discussions of antisemitism are a DISTRACTION. I am good person who is being very helpful and only hurting bad people who deserve it, like those filthy Jews— I mean zionists"

Leftists on tumblr: Why, oh why are people calling us antisemitic? 🥺

[whilomm]

i think that post-dragon stuff marcille would finally process that oh maybe shes in Love With Falin and (after going thru stages of denial and 'NO I DONT WANT TO RUIN OUR FRIENDSHIP' etc etc) would eventually work up the courage to Begin Courting Falin in traditional romantic ways (just like in her elven romance novels) buying her gifts and taking her out on not-technically-dates and trying to be subtle but laying the groundwork for when she finally asks falin out on a date like a year and a half after the whole dragon thing and shes really nervous and scared but falins just like....arent we already dating

[errorkey]

so guess who's never getting over what jack says here!

it's a line that's devastating on it's own. it's heartbreaking, because jack feels so terribly betrayed by joke all over again, even though all joke was trying to do is save him.

but it's not just that. it's worse, because that's what the whole show's been about this entire time.

in english, the title we've been given is "Jack & Joker: U Steal My Heart!" which is the most darling, lighthearted little play on words ever.

but the thai title? it's "Jack & Joker: ทำไมต้องเป็นเธอทุกที," which (according to MyDramaList) translates to "Jack & Joker: Why Does it Always Have to Be You?"

and isn't that exactly what jack's asking now? of everything that had to happen, of everyone that is to blame, why does have to be joke that is at fault again?

from the beginning, this entire show was meant to be about how it's almost inevitable that these two will hurt each other in some way or another. their lives have been entwined since that first moment 5 years ago, and regardless of whose fault it is, both of them are bound to be hurt because of just how much they want to save each other. ultimately, jack and joke are – quite literally – doomed by the narrative that they're in.

and all they can do is find a way to break this cycle that viciously dictates their lives – both in the world they're in and in the grand scheme of the show itself.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Man, we've got a lot of these, huh? It's YJ's fault this time; whoopsie doodles! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“Danny,” Diana says from the door.

Danny looks up from his place in the book. It’s definitely aimed at younger kids, but it’s a pretty wordy picture book; there are a couple paragraphs he can’t quite parse, but he’s making pretty good progress on the words he can’t recognize.

It’s a story about a cat who misses its mother. Danny tries not to relate to it too much.

“Hm?” he asks, flipping the front flap of the dust cover over his current pages to mark his place. The book goes back onto the nightstand, beside his space shuttle; Danny uses the railing beside his bed to support himself stepping up and out of his wheelchair, leaning on the railing until he can figure out…wait, where’d he leave his old people walker?

“This walk is long. You will want your chair.”

Well, then. Couldn’t she have said that before Danny did all that pulling? Danny falls back into his chair, kinda peeved. “Fine.”

Diana smiles. She doesn’t have to wear the mask around him anymore— Danny’s pretty sure that his injuries have been declared as clotted, or sealed, or whatever at this rate. They for sure swabbed his ectoplasm and came to some kind of conclusion, anyway, which means he only looks gross, but isn’t, like…actively leaking fluids.

On the one hand, gross! But, well, you know. Nothing for it but bandaids and time.

And her face looks nice. Danny hadn’t known what she’d looked like, before. She smiles when she sees him. Her light eyes crinkle, and her lips turn up… She’s nice. Danny’s sure that she’s only there to be in charge of him in case he gets scary, but she’s in charge of him and she’s nice. She doesn’t have to be nice; lots of people have been in charge of him and been mean about it. There was that one guy who kept holding him—with the taser—

(Time slips away from him, a little. When he gets back to the world in front of him, Diana is carefully looking at his face, the back of her hand stroking the back of his.)

Danny’s in his chair. He’s not…there. He’s in his chair, on a big space station (????) with a bunch of really colorful fighters on it, and Diana is touching his hand (that’s so much weaker and slower than it used to be) and he’s not hungry and he’s only scared because of memories. He’s safe. He’s not being pinned down by the neck so that they can strap down his wrists and hips to the table—they’re not shocking him—he can move his fingers, he’s not stuck in his core—

His core throbs. Danny bites into his bisected lip, and tries not to cry.

“Are you alright?” Diana asks, voice gentled. The soft touch of her hand doesn’t stop. “We can wait. There is no—“

Danny shakes his head, and takes his hand away so he could wipe at his eyes. It’s fine. Bad memories are everywhere: in the walls, in the floor, in the ceiling, in the hands of people taking care of him. That’s not… There’s nothing Danny can do about that. That just. Takes time.

…He think he might have that time. Now. He thought he would die for good in that five by five box, waiting for something that would finally end him instead of just keeping him in a cycle of injuries he never fully healed from.

But now he’s not. He’s here.

He wants to keep going.

“Alright,” Diana says, slow and careful. “Hold on.”

Danny doesn’t hold on—or, well, you know, he engages his core muscles and all that, but he doesn’t cling to his arm rests or to the frame of his chair because he knows that Diana is really, really strong, but she also really, really doesn’t want to hurt him.

She rolls him out of the medical wing and into the space station proper. Danny feels like he’s been here before, but he doesn’t remember it super well. Maybe it was when he was sick or something? Either way, a lot of different people wave at him as they go by—or just straight up stare, if they’re rude—and Danny generally just watches people rush by, carrying all kinds of equipment, and a potted plant, and a…starfish in a jar…?

Oh, the starfish waves at him???? Danny waves back because?? What??

Danny rolls to a stop at a smooth, cylindrical elevator. It looks like a giant test tube.

…Oh boy. Danny takes a deep breath, and holds it. Reflexively. Sure, this elevator probably isn’t like being dunked into water to see if his body absorbs ambient oxygen from the atmosphere or if his biology is truly not oxygen-based, but the memory is. Bad.

They go upwards. Nothing happens but Diana’s pushed button.

Danny exhales.

They get off at a section of the base Danny’s never been to, and it's essentially just a long, somewhat narrow hallway. The walls are actually painted a creamy off-white here, and there’s…like…decorative panels towards the base of his wheels trailing down the hallway? An orange ceiling, too?

Huh??

The rooms are numbered, but they’re not plain steel like in other areas downstairs; some of them have stickers, or drawings, or marker written straight onto the door itself. They look...cozy...? Danny thinks so, anyway, compared to the rest of the ultra high tech space base.

They roll to a stop in front of a door. It’s got a number on it, same as all the others, but there’s a box cutout taped to the front of it. The—

—The print is of the same style of space shuttle Danny keeps next to his bed, inked onto glorious cardboard medium.

Danny stares.

“Gegrapa,” Diana urges, so gentle. Too bad that, uh, Danny doesn’t know that one. He looks at her. She mimes touching the door— Oh. Got it.

Danny leans forward just enough to touch the door with his fingertips.

The door says something in a robotic voice, but the synthesizer is too mangled for Danny to make out the words. The door slides open horizontally into the wall, instead of the way the other doors open like portals or from below, and it’s kind of cool?

Inside is a bedroom. Danny stares.

…No, it’s actually a bedroom. Not a medical wing, not a cot, not a repurposed conference room or—it’s actually got a bed in it. Like. A real one. There’s a wooden headboard and it’s got a mattress on it that’s thicker than a VCR.

There’s constellation sheets on a bed big enough to curl up on.

There’s a nightstand, a small desk on the far wall—there’s a little lip where the bedroom dips into a tiny sitting room, a small television on a table and a small table and chair. It’s kind of…it’s kind of like a little hotel suite.

Danny’s mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t move, and Diana doesn’t wheel him in. “It’s okay,” Diana says, and—Danny almost flinches when she touches his hair, but it’s only Diana, who’s never hit him, and they’re fine. He’s…safe. It’s safe. He’s safe here. “Do you want to go in?”

Danny doesn’t move. His hands don’t touch the wheels. They’re shaking; he puts his hands in his lap and he tries to breathe. “…What?” he asks hoarsely.

“A rum for my Danny,” Diana murmurs, quietly. Danny’s heart throbs at the possessive. “You are healthier now. You do not need doctors every hour, but only sum hours. You cuðe spenda more time here, all ana.”

Words go by so fast even at Diana's smooth, unhurried pace— and Danny licks dry, split lips. He looks around the room—and the room is small, sure, but they're in space. Space will always be a premium. Even in this small room, though, the furniture is sparse and placed distant from each other…distant enough that Danny can wheel around freely in his chair.

There’s a Moon clock display hung on the wall over the doorway, and Danny can faintly see the outline of what he assumes is the current lunar phase as seen from Earth.

Having the lamp isn’t exactly the same as glow-in-the-dark-stars, and thank goodness for that. If it had been, Danny might have cried.

(Or, he realizes, something burning in his eyes that isn’t ectoplasm, maybe he is crying.)

“...Me?” Danny asks, terrified to know the answer. Is this room for him?? Is he getting a room here? Is he supposed to stay here? On the moon?! Is he supposed to stay with everyone here, in a tiny room, where there’s nowhere to go and nowhere to escape?

…It’s a bedroom. It’s already so much more than the stupid guys in white ever gave him.

“Yes,” Diana says, and lets go of his hair. “Use it, or do not. Sitta here, or sitta in the medical bay, but now you have two choices.”

Okay. So Danny has choices. He swallows his feelings—they taste a lot like snot—and rolls himself inside to inspect the room.

There’s another little fridge inside the sitting area. It’s not right next to the bed like it is beside Danny’s cot, but it is the same style of fridge. When Danny pops the door open, it has the same styles of snacks. Fig Einsteins. Peanut butter squeezies and applesauce squeezies and yogurt squeezies. Protein shakes in bottles. Pedialight. Hummus packs.

Danny might still need someone to open the snack packs for him. That’s kind of a high dexterity food, if he thinks about it.

“If you wish to sitta here, we will visit you all you like. There is a belle at your bed,” Diana says, and walks in with all her purple scrubs and tied-up hair to point to a little button on his nightstand. It’s red. It’s got a little smiley face sticker next to it, and Danny thinks he recognizes the style from one of his nurse’s bestickered name tags. Belle is probably a direct cognate for bell. He’ll be able to get everyone to come up here if he needs help.

…Okay, that’s kind of nice. To have personal space. He hasn’t had that since… Danny’s eyes squint as he thinks; he rubs an eye. Wait, when had he been squatting under a conference table? Was that a real memory??

Diana is very tall, even in the little space, but when she ducks her head, the gesture makes her a little smaller, a little more manageable for Danny’s lower-than-usual-gaze. Now that he can see her expression, she looks soft, and even uncertain, even though she looks stone and strong on the television when she goes out to fight. “Do you like it?” she asks.

Danny fidgets.

He—does. He likes it a lot. The room doesn’t have any windows, but if Danny moved all his things in here, got used to being able to come and go, and people coming in and out…this space could be just another space. It’s quieter than the medical ward. More peaceful.

…The room is utterly devoid of other people.

(Danny thinks of The Box. Danny thinks of being in The Box.)

(Danny doesn’t like remembering The Box.)

“I am scared,” Danny admits to his twitching thumbs, his fingers itching for a fidget toy or one of his physical therapy tools. Diana’s face immediately drops.

“Why are you scared?”

I’ll be alone Danny wants to say, but he doesn’t know the word for alone and he struggled with phrasing. “No…people here.”

“That is triewe. You would have more dīegolnes here,” Diana agrees, and straightens out of her crouch. “Is that good, or bad?”

It isn’t good and it isn’t bad…? Danny isn’t sure how to phrase it. It’s neither. Being alone is just scary.

“You not hurt me,” Danny tries, knowing he’s missing some connecting word in the middle. He ignores how Diana comes back to kneel beside him, because if he looks at her, he won’t say anything. “Do not.”

“No,” Diana says, from beside and below him, gentle, careful. “We do not.”

No. They don’t. Danny swallows. “Bad…hurt me.” He doesn’t know the word for Earth or planet or even downstairs, so he just meekly points downwards.

Diana stills. It’s like watching Vlad’s Maddie cat spot a bird to hunt down. Danny tries not to feel pinned. “On eorþegearde?” she asks, still light, still gentle. Danny can hear a shadow of steel, though, and he counts himself lucky that she’s never treated him like an enemy. Danny quickly nods. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Who?” Diana asks feather-light.

Danny doesn’t want to tell them what he is. Admitting the name of the agency hunting him itself would be given in.

…But maybe if he doesn’t say the name…and they...and they promised they'd help hide him...

He wants to be right. Danny wants to be right that they're nice, and that they want to help him. Danny wants to be right that they want to protect him. As long as he never, nevernotevernever tells them he's a ghost...

Maybe someone will help him. This time.

“Bad,” Danny repeats, because he genuinely has no idea how to translate?? “Wants…hurts me? For…” WHAT WORDS DOES HE KNOW? Danny gives up and just draws a y-shaped autopsy incision on his chest. It goes down from his collarbones to his belly button.

Diana watches. Her eyes are sharp.

“Do you feel safe with the staff dunstæger in medical?” Diana is quick on the ball with the question and Danny nods quickly—he’s never alone there, and no one’s ever hurt him, and people whose job it is to help people are always coming in and out, and Medical helps them too.

“Good,” Danny whispers. “Talk…talks to me.”

“Ealne weg,” Diana affirms firmly. Whatever that means. “We will cepa you safe.”

You safe and we is all Danny needs to hear. He could probably cry by himself, but Danny wants the comfort anyway; Diana lets Danny take her hands into his, and he lets tears fall into someone else’s grip instead of his own.

*

Bruce is halfway to the monitor room before he feels himself be picked up from underneath the armpits.

Usually finding himself at inappropriate heights involves horseplay from Clark. No one else would be so bold as to actually put their hands on him within the professional setting of the Watchtower—and Bruce has worked very, very hard on maintaining a reputation that keeps the handsier of his fellows at bay.

The culprit is not Clark this time. Bruce finds himself looking downward at Diana’s tearstained face, fury and resignation warring in her expression.

Bruce is careful not to sigh. “Wonder Woman. What is the matter?”

“Someone,” Diana grits out, voice carefully modulated to cut out her own pain, “Hurt my charge.”

On the one hand, the situation with their patient is exactly as Bruce had expected. The circumstance is tragic. The circumstance was predictable.

On the other, Diana's new upset means that Bruce now has more information to work with than ever before.

Bruce can work with this.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce’s voice is just as firm—even held midair like a cat. “I will help you in every way I can.”

[wittymumbledon]

When you take a break from drawing GF fanart...by drawing more GF fanart

I've actually wanted to draw these two for ages but couldn't come up with an excuse to do it but I'VE FINALLY GOT IT--and I thought of it BEFORE summerhalloween was over instead of AFTER--

Seriously though this was so fun--I even tweaked the way I draw Ford a bit to fit Spooky's style better :]

the FixerUpperAU, the human bill design, and the post that inspired all of this all belong to @1spooky2me <3

(original post:)

Link to the post itself lol

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #155

Tony can be... a bit overbearing with his helicopter parent tendencies. To combat this, Peter sets up a small protocol with FRIDAY. 

Any time Tony wants to do something paranoid or invasive, FRIDAY is to send him a helpful article first, with titles like "Excessive Surveillance Can Harm Adolescent Development, Study Finds" and "Why Teens Need Privacy From Their Parents"

Peter leaves the choice of articles up to FRIDAY, trusting her to send ones that fit the situation.

While this protocol does get Tony to reconsider some of his more... extreme impractical requests, in most cases it fails to change his mind. Being hands-off about Peter's safety is not something he can do -- not when he knows the kinds of dangers this particular kid could face.

He's grateful for the insight that the protocol has given him, though. So instead of removing it, he decides to add to it. He asks FRIDAY to make it a two-way street. Now, whenever Peter complains about one of Tony's safety protocols, FRIDAY will send an article to help him understand

However, Tony doesn't anticipate the kinds of articles FRIDAY will choose. While she continues to send Tony studies and editorials, to Peter she sends news reports from Tony's past

Peter's mad that Tony has put trackers in everything he owns? -- "Tony Stark Still Missing: Inside Month Three of the Harrowing Search"

Peter hates the constant health monitoring that FRIDAY does when he's in the tower? -- "Death Wish or Death Sentence? Stark Behavior Tied to Secret Illness that Almost Cost Him His Life"

It goes on and on. For every seemingly insane overreach, there's a story, an experience Tony is trying to protect Peter from. 

They both still disagree about how much protection is too much, but at least they understand each other better now

[front-facing-pokemon]

[melrosing]

this is just for me and whichever five other British people on this app are watching the traitors rn

[lexumpysfunland]

it's here! after a few days of work, it's finally here!

"-Are you alright? I don't know it looks like you've seen a ghost..."

AUgh, it's been a little while since my last storyboard so this is not the best- but I did it haha I'll do better next time...

now I leave you with this, and I won't elaborate on what this is or means :D

[vaguely-concerned]

just had the thought 'in the end the most important thing varric taught rook was how to make a home for, with, and in other people' and then I had to go lie down on the floor and clutch at my head in unceasing agony for a few hours, as you may well imagine. hawke and the kirkwall crew........ in the end you kind of saved the world a bit in the most characteristically indirect and chaotic of ways. not by anything in particular that you did or achieved or accomplished (lmao imagine!), but just by -- having existed, and by the love that was always there, despite it all, in all its imperfections, even when no one was saved by it in the end. you're not here right now and you're not quite haunting the narrative but I hear your voices bickering and arguing and laughing from the other room. (and so, I think, does varric. all the time.)

'did you think you mattered, hawke? did you think anything you ever did mattered?' yeah actually, varric says with da2 and keeps saying through the series. you were here. and I loved you. and as it turns out that mattered more than almost anything in the world, no matter how long it lasted or how fucked up it was at the time or what else happens, because varric manages to pass that feeling, that intangible... home, that echo of you all as you were together, that love, hopefully the best parts of it, on to someone else for them to bring with them on their journey, with their family. and maybe the world will be kinder this time. you never know. merrill's line of 'Everything affects everything. We were born, a bunch of things happened, and now we're in a mess with our friends.' varric's greatest fear of becoming his parents. even through the wreck and the ruin of the world, ghosts upon ghosts upon ghosts of love -- malcolm hawke, who we never even see, but his life touched hawke's and hawke's touched varric's and varric's touched rook's and rook is passing it on to the family they're creating. the unbroken legacy of love shines through in ways that are stronger and stranger than any magic. help

[toubledrouble]

You know what we should bring back?

Older christianity. I mean the anti government, anti military, community based christianity. The one that cared the most about peace, equality, mercy, kindness, and radical love. The one with shared property. The one that didn't conform to society but instead existed mostly outside of it. The one where noone considered one sin worse than another because in the end, we are all sinners trying our best to be better.