#don't fail me
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just a question for my mutuals if they're still around here:
What if I start using this blog as a diary of my daily life but as vague as possible ??? I think it could be fun to vent like that
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I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -
I am fine with "the audience" -
downloading my fics
printing my fics
copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics
sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3
making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss
doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc
I am not fine with "the audience"
doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity
feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever
Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.
Enjoy the fandom things.
#fanfic#ao3#archive of our own#fandom things#tumblr things#i may have said this at some point#i'm sure i have#but whatever - just in case#i don't say this with the presumption that i'm so amazing and people are clamoring to save my fics#but just if anyone is so inclined that's all#ftr i don't intend on ever removing my fics from ao3 or deleting fandom things from this blog#i've always shared my fandom things with the intent of keeping them shared bc that's the whole point of posting#but the fandom atmosphere and ao3 constantly being under attack who knows what can happen#not that this applies to anyone but should all else fail you can also reach out to me and i will personally give you a copy#at least of fics bc i save everything#not so much the tumblr things but this is a good reminder to myself that i should do that for the things i care about#that i've made or done and only posted here#anyway sorry i have now used up my quota of the putting words into sentences doing for today#i have plans to stare into the void now
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SIR ARE YOU FREE ON TUESDAY
AND he has a skelly friend???
Me rn:
#does he look kinda like Vincent Price if you squint or is it just me#anyway dragon age don't fail me#let me romance the necromancer#da4#dragon age#emmrich#emmrich volkahrin#dragon age: the veilguard#emmrich volkarin
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Do you guys notice how when Shawn Fain, president of the United Auto Workers union, started planning a general strike, he did it by a) targeting his messaging towards unions with the ability to safely and effectively strike in large numbers, b) laid out a clear, actionable plan for those unions to follow (setting contracts to all expire at the same time, since many unions cannot strike while under contract), c) is using union contracts to set clear, actionable demands that can be met in order to gauge success and provide an end goal, and d) started organizing FOUR YEARS before the proposed strike date to give people the chance to plan accordingly, because it takes a really freaking long time to get tens of millions of people organized?
You notice how he didn't do it by slapping a message on Twitter saying 'hey nobody go to work on Monday, that'll really show 'em'?
#those 'monday is a general strike stay home if you can!!!' posts are SO performative and they really annoy me#like. you MUST know you can't organize a general strike of tens of millions of people by sharing an infographic on twitter. Right?#don't even get me started on the most recent one that was like 'we understand the last strike only gave one day of notice'#'so this time we're giving you two! strike is on tuesday everyone don't forget!'#like GENUINELY was that supposed to be a joke#the linked article also touches on how difficult actual organizing a workplace is which is nice#because they mention previous failed attempts in which organizers basically just handed out leaflets#and assumed the benefits would be obvious. which i think is basically the equivalent of posting an infographic on twitter#which is to say - not effective at all. Organizing is a LOT of work! Running an effective union even more so!#labor rights
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going through my old journals as part of therapy homework and i'm reading a section written in the emotional wreckage of a full-on breakdown when i get hit with this line:
There is never a satisfying answer to ‘Why didn’t they love me?’
like wow babe. good fucking point
#like you were on the ground biting the carpet and dry sobbing while you wrote that and still. good fucking point#not a shitpost#cptsd#and it's true. there's never a satisfying answer#the truth is i know why i wasn't loved#i analyzed my parent's traumas and abuse to death. i understand why i alienated and was alienated from my siblings#i know why my mom was too overwhelmed to be capable of nurturing#i know why my dad vanished into addiction and avoidance#the details of our cycles of trauma and cptsd and family history i have a phd in all of it#i understood perfectly. i spent years studying and now i knew the answer#and guess what? IT WAS NOT SATISFYING!!!#because they still didn't love me! and i still couldn't change that!#it was still a completely unsatisfying state of affairs!#so like. when the people who are supposed to love you...don't.#when the people who are supposed to take care of you...fail to#you can look for answers and reasons and explanations#but that's not actually going to FIX your situation.#and it's probably not within your ability TO fix the situation. (and definitely not your job)#because you don't need answers--you need a new situation#*inserts Just Walk Out. You Can Leave!!! (Running Skeleton) Meme*#and yes. walking out isn't always possible.#but for you i hope it will be one day soon. and i hope you build the courage to take that leap.#stepping away from the people who failed to love you...it feels like being untethered but also like being lighter than air#new and scary. immensely relieving. the future opens up. empty but empty like a canvas. blindingly bright until your eyes adjust#like climbing out of a pit you called home and for the first time realizing how bright the light of day can truly be#when you aren't just getting glimpses from the bottom of a hole
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I'm not updated with Boku no hero but holy fxxk dabi is getting cooked alive.
I hope he can make it in one piece by the time this manga ends.
#please i want him to keep alive#horikoshi i know you can do this. i trust you on this.#don't fail me#bnha 389#dabi
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evil again
#arcane#silco#jinx#jinx and silco#jinx arcane#silco arcane#hello it's me#again#im trying to do things differently and kinda failing#please be patient as i slowly try to improve#my art#Please don't repost
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"you know, my therapist says everyone needs a safe space, a place where you can fully be yourself"
[image description: 2 large gifs of evan buckley and eddie diaz from 9-1-1.
gif 1: from season 6 episode 12. in the diaz home, eddie (out of frame) watches buck sleep on his couch, his arm draped across the sofa.
gif 2: from season 7 episode 5. at buck's apartment, the camera pans as eddie, holding his phone, turns to face buck as buck rounds the corner of his kitchen island.
/end ID]
#the way they both seek refuge in each other makes me so incredibly unwell actually#its just. its always been them#no matter the homes they've tried and failed to build with others it's always been the two of them#also don't even wanna go into the “a place where you can fully be yourself” / “you don't have to be anything for anyone” of it all#especially not in the context of both buck and eddie's storylines in 7.05#maybe that'll be its own fun and separate set for when im less sleep deprived lol#eddie diaz#evan buckley#buddie#buck x eddie#911 on abc#911 abc#9-1-1#alicia edits
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tarpit site.
#personal#delete later#for context a tweet i made in the middle of the night blew the fuck up and brought the attention of anime fans who've been#harassing and hassling me about my big factual blunder for an entire day straight#“ok i'll apologize” “bro it's not that serious.”#“you're right it's not that serious“ ”why won't you just admit that you're wrong and apologize!“#i'm not going crazy right. i feel like i'm getting manipulated into thinking i must've been wrong#it's crazy how twitter hate will trick you into believing saying something someone else disagrees with is a moral failing#sorry i haven't seen frieren i guess but what's it to you. i wasn't making a claim or statement#also because nobody has gotten this in the original post i wasn't talking about the quality of animation i'm talking about solid drawing#which is a very specific principle of animation. dandandan has really good solid drawing wherein all the characters are animated#with realistic and proportional 3d depth. newsflash but trigger doesn't prioritize solid drawing in their animation and that's fine#it's an aesthetic choice and has ties to production limits. none of this is a big deal. this is all so stupid lol#i've dealt with worse and more annoying weebs though it's fine i'll put on my clown nose twitter needs their stupid guy for the day#oh btw at the end of the day this doesn't matter. it'll be over by tomorrow. all that's happening is petty angry emotions.#so please don't involve yourself by jumping into the argument and prolonging this shit#i'm about to go on a date with tulli after being apart for a month this is the furtherest thing from my mind rn
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Drew a wolfybruce for a friend
#belatedly remembered this is kinda canon now#furries i know y'all're out there don't fail me now#also sorry i see there are messages in my askbox i will get to those. soon#bruce wayne#batman#dc comics#bats tag#my art
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I recently had to do a project in one of my psych classes, and man, I knew that CBT was used for every little thing, but seeing over and over, "do CBT! CBT is the best for every mental illness!" was so jarring. I'm absolutely biased because of my own experiences, but I just don't think it's as universal a treatment model as it's touted.
If you didn't benefit from CBT, it's not because you're lazy or didn't try hard enough or lacked intelligence or foresight into your own needs. Frankly, it's a therapy model that (I think) shouldn't be the only readily-accessible model and among the only therapy models covered by insurance. Some of us should not be treated in a CBT model and that's okay. It's not a sign of poor character or unreasonable demands, and if you don't think it's a model that works for you, then it's your right to express that!
#mental health#mental health advocacy#it was just so annoying because every resource i could access for this project often ONLY recommended cbt and#that just doesn't seem helpful for a good chunk of people#because i know i never benefitted from that model of therapy#obligatory: i am not against this therapy. me having a negative experience with it is not indicative that i believe it should be abolished'#if it works for you: KEEP DOING IT. cbt is not inherently harmful for MANY people and it's a good and valuable tool for many#but the overemphasis of cbt as the Only Therapy Model You Need sends this message that YOU failed...#...if you don't miraculously recover with that therapy model. it often feels like you'll Fail Recovery/Therapy and you're now a Bad Person#i've tried for over a decade to stick out cbt with a dozen therapists to boot. so i think i know a thing or two about my experiences with it#and overall its an unimpressive model (for me) as someone whos had a history with abuse and miscellaneous mental knickknacks rattling around#it's also frustrating because i genuinely like psych and i love learning about people#it's just. i'm tired of only being exposed to cbt (because i hate it honestly)#i feel similarly about cbt as i do with sigmund fucking frued#anyway i just want other insane people (affectionate) to remember that they deserve to not beat themselves up over this#if you're an insane person reading this: i love you i love you i love you i love you#i will share a slice of cake and homemade bread with you <3
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Ich liebe dich in allen sprachen der welt.
She managed to understand what he'd said, which she supposed meant that her German was finally starting to come along. They'd avoided this pocket of the world for some time. Niklaus had told her once that before his family had settled in the New World, they'd lived in the North. For years, Aurora, Tristan, and Lucien had avoided it, fearing that Mikael might make his home there, have an advantage there. Unfortunately, they were running out of corners to hide in.
"Sogar die, die ich noch nicht gelernt habe, nehme ich an."
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average travis player character: some sort of guy with backstory happenings of various levels of tragedy
average clint player character: old man with a mischievous streak (always on the verge of death)
average griffin player character: lil guy with impostor syndrome and trying SO hard
average justin player character: the weirdest person anyone has ever heard of, ever
#aubrey counts as some sort of guy#i didn't account ethersea into this because i didn't finish it and i don't remember their characters#but justin's characters always surprise me theyre so fucking weird and excellent in concept at the same time#duck tries to be normal so bad and fails#taz#taz dracula lb#edit: listen to steeplechase neow. for me
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“And Anakin is on his way despite the dread boiling through his blood. That’s what makes him a real hero. Not the way the HoloNet labels him; not without fear, but stronger than fear. He looks the dragon in the eye and doesn’t even slow down.”
#anakin skywalker#the clone wars#kenobi#general skywalker#anakin tcw#tcw#my art.#nightgalen#don't fail me now tumblr i'm giving you the lighting you desire
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Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help
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Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.
The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.
Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.
The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.
That social worker.
“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.
“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”
He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”
“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”
Nightingale frowned a little at that.
“Is that what people are saying?”
“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”
“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”
“You wanted to work here.”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit.”
Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.
She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?
Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.
“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.
“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”
She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”
Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”
Jason considered her.
Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.
It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.
Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.
For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.
And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.
He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.
“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”
“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”
Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.
“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”
Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.
“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”
Oh.
Those.
“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”
He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.
“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”
Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.
“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”
Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.
#dpxdc#jazz fen#jason todd#social worker jazz#social worker jazz fenton#anger management ship#anger management#pre anger management#jason todd x jazz fenton#i don't know why i keep writing scenes where Jazz writes resumes to apply to work for crime bosses but it just feels right in my soul okay#the real reason Jason wears a full face helmet is so people can't tell when he utterly fails to hide his emotions about something#the idea of social worker jazz working in crime alley has completely consumed me mind body and soul
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Thank GOD for those new promo pics.... I've always said this was the way I picture Aziraphale in modern day if he'd been the demon instead, and now I have the perfect angel!Crowley to match!
#no offense to anyone with other headcanons#but i always find reverse omens to be way too ooc for me#not bc aziraphale is a demon and crowley is an angel that makes total sense#but making crowley an innocent lil bean and aziraphale a scruffy badass just kinda....#idk i feel like you don't have to change their inherent them-ness just bc they're reversed#esp bc the point is that they're so similar in so many ways and what they are doesn't define who they are#ANYWAY all that to say aziraphale would still be stuffy and old-fashioned and prissy and soft#and crowley would still try to be the coolest mfer alive and both succeed and fail bc he's actually a huge lovesick dork#and these pics captures that aesthetic in my head SO perfectly#(also bonus headcanon that instead of getting snake eyes aziraphale's hair darkens along with his wings to symbolize his fall from grace)#good omens#reverse omens#Aziraphale#crowley#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#gomens#angel crowley#demon aziraphale#passengers 2016#rivals 2024#david tennant#michael sheen
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