#experiment tw

[hcttrick]

(I jumped at this.) ⚗️

(Bet Lyney never expected the day he’d be abducted by aliens, eh? Not that he knows that... maybe)

“Drink from this, please.” (A soft purple fruit is offered to him with a straw awkwardly poking out. They even placed a napkin on his lap. How kind.)

To say that the young magician was shocked and confused by all that has occurred was a understatement as the boy was offered what he thought was a mere drink was actually something that somehow knocked him out, he woke up with a start and a audible hiss as his cat like eyes greeted a bright light shining down on him.

He tried to move but he couldn't, what the?

Lyney looked around and was horrified to find that he was strapped down to a table of sorts, wait, was this...no! This can't be happening!

His eyes began to dart around, his heart beat increased as he felt his chest becoming tight.

He struggles to call out, panic settling in his voice.

"Hey! What is going on?! L-Let me go! Answer me!"

[dragonofthestone]

The voices came in like the ebb and flow of the changing tide,

It hurts. It hurts, make it stop. Why does it hurt?

Where am I? Please let me out.

It's so cold and dark.

Those were the clearest ones amongst the tempest of pitiful cries. Most were inaudible, voiceless screams and wails, screeches and howls. The final echoes from those whose lives had been sacrificed, forced into a place lingering between life and death.

Breathing heavily he closed his eyes tight trying to focus, while in anticipation of the potential disorientation he'd experienced in the past.

Lies, lies. A trick.

They took my child

'I'm sorry. I know I'm sorry'

He finds himself apologizing to the cacophony of cries, wanting nothing more then to ease the pain. It hurt so much, more so then the voices were the overwhelming feelings carried.

Their pain. Their sorrows. Their fears.

I'm scared. Let me out, I wanna go

'Shsh, Please quiet. I know, I know.'

Hands rest either side of his head, all the while trying to comfort and quiet the restless voices. Frantically calling out over each other desperate to have their voices heard.

Make it stop.

[a-thread-of-green]

I've spent the last two weeks speedrunning coming out as a trans woman to my coworkers, extended family, and the assorted friends I'd collected through Facebook and I've been shocked and overwhelmed by how enthusiastically supportive cis women have been in particular. After doomscrolling through TERF shit for the past year, I'd become convinced that cis women tended towards distrust of trans women, with a significant percentage actively vitriolic. But, time and time again, I've received effusive praise from the cis women I come out to. Not just progressive women either: Christian Facebook-moms from Texas have been enormously supportive. I've gotten some support from cis men too, but nothing nearly as passionate, and they've been the source of all the awkward avoidance or disgusted looks I've experienced. It makes complete sense: cis women generally like being women, and most of them like it a lot, so why wouldn't they celebrate somebody else becoming like them? This really drives home how dishonest TERFism is: they present themselves as the voice of women, but really they're just a regressive minority, distorting the issues to lead people away from their inclination towards love and acceptance.

[shamebats]

[uncanny-tranny]

Fat people deserve mobility aids, too. No matter if it's connected to their fatness or not, because having a mobility issue that is connected to one's fatness won't change that they're still fat and still have the issue at hand. Fat people don't deserve to "tough it out" because fatness should be this divine punishment doled out to those who "deserve" it. Fat disabled people deserve to have the peace of mind that they can exist in whatever way is most comfortable and accessible to them

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

It is estimated those with ADHD receive 20,000 corrective or negative messages by age 10

Neurodivergent_lou

[bloggingboutburgers]

Yeah, I know "not all aro/aces" and all, but please don't use "not all aro/aces" as an excuse to not explore anything exclusively aro/ace ever. Otherwise any trace of aro/aceness might end up effectively lost to fandom osmosis.

To sum up... If you wouldn't be homophobic that way, please don't be aphobic that way.

[adoniism]

Don't worry, Sixer! You are in good 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓼.

alt ver.

[everythingwasnormalhere]

There's so much wrong with "everyone is a little bit autistic"

Yes, allistic people might know a lot of facts about the things they like. Yes, allistic people might get a bit overwhelmed or underwhelmed sometimes. Yes, allistic people might not get an expression sometimes, mostly if it's the first time they hear it.

That doesn't make them autistic.

Those traits only make someone autistic when they become disabling. Because, big shock, autism is a disability. Yeah, even if someone is low support needs, because that doesn't mean they don't need any support at all.

Saying "everyone is a little bit autistic" is like saying "everyone struggles with this, so suck it up, you have no right to need help". Which is just pure ableist bullshit. It denies the fact that autistic people have higher support needs than NTs, no matter where in the autistic spectrum they are. We're not "neurospicy", we're disabled, and denying this fact is denying us the right to get the help we need, we deserve, to have a good life.

(yes, this rant is just because I made the awful decision of listening to "neurospicy (interlude)" by Jax. honestly I'd rather be called a slur than listen to that shit again.)

[dragonofthestone]

@lunaferrous asked:

scars, chronic

scars:  how many scars does my muse have? where are they located on my muse’s body? how did they get them? what do they look like? 

Alright so given his unique body and it's heightened ability to heal you might think that would mean a lack of scars. Quite the opposite in fact, as while his body may does heal faster then the average person and given enough time has a better chance of surviving from potentially fateful wounds it still heals in much the same ways any living creature (barring like magic / anything that can go beyond natural limits like the Philosopher's stone or something)

It does take a little more for his body to form a scar- so something that may leave someone with only a small / faint scar would probably heal up fine with no scarring.

He has a lot of scars,

the most prominent of course being the one over his eye- the how is something that tends to vary depending on verse, typically it's one of the many acquired during his time as a lab rat.

Although in time he had no trouble healing from the injury not even his healing was capable of repairing the damage done to his eye.

The nerves around that side of his face are kinda screwy- there's a few small spots where in he actually has no feeling, while others are a bit more sensitive to touch.

It's not a clean scar to say the least, the skin is patchy and scarring actually makes it hard to hold it all the way open so most of the time he keeps it closed- also because the tear ducts / eyes general ability to keep wet is kinda fucked so keeps it protected/avoids drying out.

(Modern verse- it was an injury recieved when he got caught in the blast of an old detonated mine that killed his little bro)

He's got a lot of scars all over his body, many being quite faint / not as noticeable as others, remains of the many different experiments. Some were from genuine accidents, an experiment gone wrong or results no one had expected. Others were more intentional as part of an experiment with wanting to be able to see the extent of not only what he could heal from but how long it would take. Or simply as a result from wanting to see how he'd react to certain stimuli,

and of course more then once pitting him against another Chimera (or worse Alchemist) to see how he could handle in a fight.

He does have one sizable scar on the back of one of his calves from when he fell out of a tree as a kid and got a rather nasty cut from a tree branch

Slightly less obvious are some faint areas of scarring caused by the Alchemical process. For most alchemy when a transmutation is done that changes the form of something it leaves behind a trace, so why wouldn't the same be true for Chimera? Typically they aren't to noticeable often hidden by fur or feathers, hidden among the textures and patterns of their skin or perhaps in a place most wouldn't notice.

For Tim most of those marks are generally hidden by clothes, the largest and likely most noticeable is on his back near the base of his tail. At a glance it really looks just like a slightly discoloured patch of skin that if touch has a slightly different feel then other parts of his body.

(Do Mental/psychological scars count? He's got a bucket load of those too lol)

chronic: does my muse have any chronic health conditions / illnesses? how do these affect them from day-to-day? 

Coming as a surprise to no one who's spent anytime on this blog (or around Tim) He suffers heavily from Chronic pain, his worst/most problematic areas being his hands, one may commonly see him rubbing his hands usually by the wrist, and back- mostly lower back especially the closer you get to where his tail connects- which in combination with general balance problems is why his posture isn't always great.

But those are just the worst sources of pain and frequently deals with joint and/or muscle pains else where. Such as his eye which sometimes he'll just get bad phantom pains from it- due to the rather messed nerve signals around there.

He's not one to complain about his discomforts whether it be from the innate animal instinct to not show weakness / hide the pain or simply not wanting to cause any one unneeded worry and be a bother. Like a lot of medication, pain management treatments tend to be a gamble on whether or not they'll be of any affect to him, he does tend to respond better to more natural remedies, herbal stuff and the like you know. Heat / warmth go along way to help ease the pain, another reason you'll find him seeking out the warmest spots.

Most days it's manageable enough that even if not pleasant it's at a level he's become accustomed too and can deal with.

One can usually judge his pain levels by how active he's being, less active or less willing to be active assuming there's no other potential outside factors, the more pain he's in that day. If it's really bad he may also come across as a bit snippier then normal and just in general has a lower tolerance for certain things

Storms are no fun and tend to make it worse is frequently when the pain to his eye will flare up too- which does often make him a decent predictor on whether bad weather is coming.

headaches/migraines aren't uncommon for him either.

Pain isn't the only issue,

His other main health problem would be his Chronic insomnia -if not having full Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (I'm hesitant to officially drop the label on him but just various symptoms/signs of it a lot of the things very much apply to him at the very least he's borderline)

Some nights he just won't/can't sleep at all, and when he can/does will often frequently wake up.

Now in part it is once again another trouble created from his Chimeric design, with an internal clock that's more suited to Crepuscular bordering Nocturnal in combination with being an attempt at wanting someone/ a creature that could go without sleep for extended periods. Add on chronic pain plus nightmares and you've got a nest recipe for one sleepless guy, and is why you may frequently find him taking short naps through out the day.

Much like with pain the only truly affective remedy tends to be natural ones, such as drinking Valerian tea.

Has some mild lung problems do to scarring- which again can be attributed to alchemy and his creation process, because forcefully changing something into a form it was never meant to be is damaging (imperfect as it is the Pseudo, half-baked attempt at stone in his body is quite honestly probably the only thing that's saving him/his body from just rejecting itself- like a body rejecting an organ after a transplant)

It doesn't cause him too much problems for the most part- both stamina and endurance are in the above average range but it does take him a bit long to catch his breath and can get winded easier then one might expect. The cold, especially cold, dry air plays havoc with it.

Also affecting his breathing is the fact his heart isn't exactly in the right place, it's sort of pushed more to the right, closer to center of his chest kinda, which creates pressure against his lungs/makes everything else all wonky.

Quite honestly Tim's a medical marvel not for being a Chimera but simply for the fact that he's not dead.

You can probably also add his laundry list of Mental Health issues here too if you want.

[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

[critterbitter]

The electric wonder duo and lightning boogaloo go skating in Castelia City! Meanwhile, Ingo and Litwick add flavor text from the safety of the sidelines.

(I think the gang take photos, little snapshots of memory that they look back on fondly.)

Masterpost for more clown shenanigans!

[soupdwelling]

never love an anchor - the crane wives

closeups under the cut

[uncanny-tranny]

Honestly, there is a certain type of fetishizing of violence that occurs when you are the victim of abuse - wherein people talk directly to you about how much they fantasize about your abuser/s dying and being killed - "all abusers must be killed!" they say.

As a victim of prolonged abuse, I never felt cared for when people indulged that information to me. It often feels like my abuse is being exploited for others to enact their own violent fantasies and secret desires - my abuse means nothing to them in the same way that I didn't matter to my abusers. It's not support - it's just another cycle of violence.

I'm begging people to care more about victims and survivors than they do about retribution of abusers. Nowhere along the way should your focus on the abuser outweigh the people affected by their abuse. If you truly want to support abuse victims and survivors, start with us

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

anyone else have multiple traumatic memories associated specifically with holidays/family vacations? because that is a topic I never see discussed in all the So You Had A Shitty Childhood, Now What? self-help books i've been reading. but for me, it was a significant thing. and the more i think about it the more it seems like this would be an (unfortunately) common experience. would be grateful to hear if this matches other peoples' experiences...

[bubbarnes]

“... I just remember staring up and going ‘this is where all the dreams are coming true’.”