#like it happens so often
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I don't remember if I made this up but I thought there was a moment in history where either Bruce or Clark is like "Why do villains always have to go through you... to get to me?" and anyway even if I imagined it, it's still true.
This particular one is from World's Finest #174
#like it happens so often#specifically thinking of batman/superman 2013 nr 18 but there are probably more and better examples#pls add if you have any#superbat#clark kent#bruce wayne#slight spoiler but this becomes even funnier when you know who's behind this
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You don't wish your disability was worse or more visible, you wish your disability was taken seriously. Please stop confusing the two, I guarantee you would not get the support you need JUST by being more severe or more visible. Please listen to visibly disabled people when we tell you it isn't better on our side
#m/cc#mine#I tried extremely hard to word this nicely because I KNOW people don't mean bad and often even know there are unique challenges#and believe me I know the challenges of invisible disability too!!#I have invisible disabilities!#but as someone who has also been at least visibly 'off' since they were 10 I am SO SICK of invisible disabilities being hailed as like#a unique extra oppression that us lucky visibly disabled people don't have to deal with#there are challenges to invisible disabilities that visibly disabled people DON'T have to deal with!#but you need to understand that *the reverse is also true*#there are MASSIVE benefits to being able to lie about your disability for example#or not dealing with the overt ableism that comes with your disability being obvious to everyone#*I do not have the option to pretend I'm not disabled.* that is never an option I have#I walk weirdly. I use a mobility aid now. my speech and face are 'off.' I lean to one side#for a long time I wore sunglasses 24/7 and often didn't make sense. I sometimes can't speak or won't react to others#for the most part people will always know that at the very least something is wrong with me#and more obviously I have people telling me they'll pray for me; telling me I can't do things I'm already in the process of doing;#wanting to shake my hand to tell me I'm an inspiration for not killing myself; giving me dirty looks for existing in public#and yes. I'm aware that this is very much an in-community issue. I know the average abled person doesn't know invisible disabilities exist#that's why there's so much awareness happening for it#but as a visibly disabled person I get SO TIRED of constantly hearing 'I wish my disability was visible :'('#it's just 'I wish I had your disability!' but from other disabled people
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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was it casual when i sat in your lap in public? was it casual when i said "recently my heart is crying because you're leaving"? was it casual when we decided how your last name would fit with mine? ("yuki tsunoda-gasly" / "no tsunoda, only gasly" / "yuki gasly?") was it casual when we sang adele's "someone like you" together at your going away party? was it casual when i knew it was you just by touching your ass? was it casual when i knew it was you by smell alone? was it casual when "will you miss me?" / "for 2-3 minutes maybe" / "i'll take that. even if it's just 2-3 minutes, i'll take that"? was it casual when that bus was completely empty and we still sat right next to each other, all the way in the back? was it casual when i picked you up multiple times so you could dunk a basketball? was it casual when i begged to come over to your house multiple time and then you finally let me and we cooked fried rice together? was it casual when we played christmas twister together and i said "your big eggplant is touching my ass"? was it casual when we were pressed up against each other on a scooter going two miles per hour? was it casual when-
#edit: tinytauris fact checked my post and they sang 'hello' not someone like you & it was 'your big monster' not eggplant#everyday i think about the fact that yukierre should've been what lestappen is now#i should be able to go on the yukierre tag on ao3 and it should say 'showing 1-20 of 6745'#they were genuinely so fuckingg weird about each otherrrrrr#im being so serious when i say that if they ever came out as gay/bi/whatever i really wouldnt be surprised#literally just 'okay?? fork spotted in kitchen cmon now' moment#anyway i think about that moment on the bus soooo often#will you miss me? / maybe for 2-3 minutes / ill take that then. even if it's just for 2-3 minutes ill take that#hwat the FUCK#i was going 'gay gay homosexual' everytime i saw them together#yukierre#yuki tsunoda#pierre gasly#also im like 90% sure that everyting i worte down actually happened but if i wrote smth down that didnt happen#and my yukierre infested brain just conjured up please let me know#also ive had this is in my drafts foreverrrr (re: since july) so if this has already been done im so sorry#i always feel like such a loser making posts about driver relationships lol#like 'oh look at that weirdo that got too invested in people she doesn't even know'#whatever im getting to introspective now#1k
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just move on already.
#ffvii#cloud strife#zack fair#zakkura#my art <3#hey so y'know how when you're autistic and pretty stoic about shit but then something horrible happens that makes you cry#and everybody thinks you're faking it. because wtf are you crying about. don't be such a baby all of a sudden. you're better than this.#and you hear it so often that you start to believe it's true and that you're just being manipulative and attention seeking#and that you need to just get the fuck over it like everybody else.#anyway i think that's what's going on with cloud strife. just in general. wombo combo with the survivor's guilt.#also i'm totally not Projecting Onto The Blorbo or anything like that haha :)#:)#:/#:(#>:(
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does this annoy anyone else or is it just me
#i've seen it happen multiple times to small artists in this fandom#it's not even a comparison to an artist as a compliment#it's erasure of og artist intent and equating something they put their heart into as just an iteration of a more well-known artist's idea#they never address the art too they go directly to tagging the more popular artists and make it all about the popular artist#it's insulting. it's defining someone's creativity purely by an unrelated person's work. often unsolicited.#like cmon#also i'm pretty sure most popular artists Do Not Like this comparison at all so please just stop
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"yellowfang? what are you doing in bluestars den? well its none of my business" -fireheart, probably
[ID: a digital painting of Bluestar and Yellowfang, two battle-scarred gray cats, from Warrior Cats. They are cuddling in loaf positions in a den with sunlight streaming in, looking towards the entrance with slight smirks. The image is drawn in a semi-realistic art style with soft colors and shading. End ID]
#me seeing people pair bluestar and yellowfang together: Yeah ill incorporate that into my belief system#i think this totally could have happened its just that the first arc was entirely from firehearts point of view#and he doesnt know about gay people. if he did he would have realized hes bisexual and mated with graystripe#he thinks ravenpaw and barley are such good friends#warrior cats#warriors#wc#bluestar#yellowfang#yellowblue#greenshipping#bluestar x yellowfang#yellowfang x bluestar#art#2024#really though this yuri is so big brained. they both had forbidden romances and forbidden kits that were doomed#and theyre both mother figures to fireheart#and like. theyre often chilling in starclan together after they both die LOL#I just think its fascinating.
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can’t study for my test because i’m having brain rot about neil accidentally getting super drunk and stumbling up to aaron like “andrew???” and aaron is like “wrong one” and neil is like “andrew.” and aaron is like “???? are you stupid” and neil goes to look for andrew but he stumbles into the table, and aaron has to catch him or he will get trampled for fucks sake, and neil just collapses into him in a drunk cuddly heap. and aaron is like “neil. you need to stand up” and neil is like “i am” and aaron is like “that’s because i’m holding you up” and they get neil to stand but neil kinda just flops into aaron’s arms again. and neil is like “i don’t hate you, i don’t, but it’s okay if you hate me” and aaron is like “ugh, ew are you really an emotional drunk???” and neil, to aaron’s horror, looks at him with tears in his eyes because you know when you’re too drunk and you kind of just get a little scared and you need help???? ya. and aaron is like … ok. and kinda holds neil until andrew comes back from the bar with more drinks. and he sees neil basically asleep on aaron’s shoulder, and aaron looking uncomfortable but accepting, so he kinda raises an eyebrow, an okay? and aaron nods and is just patting neil on his back
and tomorrow they’ll wake up and neil will toddle downstairs with his hand against his temple and aaron will have advil ready for him, and he’ll say “you’re annoying and you don’t know when to shut your mouth or mind your own business, but i don’t hate you” and the thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for staying goes unsaid but yeah
and that’s how aaron and neil became kind of friends
edit: vomited out a one shot for y’all (this will prob become a 5+1)
Aaron swirled his drink a few times, listening to the ice clacking against the glass.
Eden’s was packed tonight, courtesy of it being the end of the school year. College students and the regular patrons flocked to the bar, the dance floor, and all of the tables, leaving Aaron to reserve a high-top table, and his legs to dangle from the stool.
“Drew?”
Aaron ignored him in favor of the twinkling sound the ice makes in his glass. He’d already taken shots, danced, had another drink, danced again, and now Aaron’s body was heavy with alcohol and exhaustion.
“Drew,” Neil said again.
Aaron looked around their table and didn’t see Andrew. He remembered Andrew getting up and walking to the bar with their empty tray. Aaron found him a few seconds later, hands in his pockets at the bar. That and Neil, staring up at him, looking uneasy.
Before Aaron could tell Neil to get out of his face, Neil was speaking.
“Are you’nt having fun?” Neil frowned, blinking sleepy, hooded eyes at him. He leaned closer to study Aaron’s face.
“What are you doing?” Aaron grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.
Aaron hadn’t even pushed him hard, he more removed Neil from his space rather than pushed him, but Neil wobbled like his world had tilted out of orbit. Aaron realized, quickly, that Neil was going to fall backwards. He grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt and pulled him forwards. Neil’s head lulled on his shoulders with the force, his chin hitting his chest then righting itself.
Aaron’s stomach lurched, sick with the thought that someone had put something in one of Neil’s drinks, as he would for anyone, but thankfully he’s never been put in that situation. Neil’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed. Aaron snapped once at Neil’s ear, and Neil recoiled immediately.
“Does your head hurt or anything?” Aaron asked. Neil shook his head, frowning.
“Are you dizzy? Follow my finger.” Aaron pushes Neil back so he can see his face, keeping one hand on Neil’s shoulder to hold him up. Neil follows Aaron’s finger as it moves back and forth, albeit a little labored, but not as if he’d been roofied. Aaron declares that Neil’s reaction times and responses are fine, but he still pulls the front of his shirt up and checks his belt, the button of his pants.
“What—?” Neil slapped a hand on his abdomen, stopping his shirt from being lifted any higher. Aaron didn’t need to see anything but his pants, but it was reassuring that Neil still had inhibitions.
His clothes were fine. His belt was still done, zipper up. No one had tried anything. Aaron relaxed.
“Sorry,” Aaron said. “Sorry, I just needed to…”
While racking his mind back to why Neil is this drunk, Aaron remembered Neil taking shots with Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Four shots. He’d seen Neil sip on another drink like the idiot had the tolerance for alcohol that the rest of them had.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Aaron said and released Neil. Neil attempted to step back, his hands raised in surrender.
“No?” Neil asked warily. Even drunk as fuck, he still respected boundaries. Andrew’s boundaries specifically, as it still hadn’t registered that he wasn’t talking to the right twin.
“I’m not Andrew,” Aaron said.
“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked, turning his head pathetically in search. Aaron only had a good view of Andrew because they were seated at a high-top. Over the throng of taller people coupled with strobing lights, Neil’s view was obstructed.
“At the bar,” Aaron nodded in that direction.
Neil turned towards the bar. Well, he attempted to. He pivoted, lost his balance, and toppled into the table. He tried to right himself and started to fall to the other side. Aaron caught Neil before he could bust his shit and get trampled.
“Jesus Christ, Josten,” Aaron spat, righting Neil with hands on his biceps. Neil slapped a hand on the table and leaned his weight on it. The table quaked under such abuse, but held.
Neil turned slowly, grappling against the table as if he was standing in one of those spinning fair rides. In his excursion to simply spin 180°, his hand slipped off the edge of the table as he faced Aaron once again. He reached for the table, missed, reached for it again, missed, said, “Motherfucker,” under his breath, and finally gripped onto the edge. His eyes locked on Aaron’s again, and Neil’s useless hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder.
“Andrew,” Neil said. Aaron didn’t know if it was more a request or if it was just not registering.
“Wrong,” Aaron said, tense under Neil’s hand, but he didn’t push him off. He’d rather hold Neil up than peel him off the floor. “Aaron.”
“‘m very drunk,” Neil said, looking up pleadingly at Aaron as if he had a magical cure to shitfacedness, and all Neil had to do for it was look a little scared. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” Aaron asked.
“I’m drunk.”
Aaron snorted. “That’s kind of the point when you’re at a bar.”
“But,” Neil said, taking a labored breath, “I’m…too drunk.”
This was beginning to feel exceedingly similar to speaking to a child. Aaron was annoyed, but not completely heartless, unlike the narrative of Aaron Neil had likely concocted. “It’s okay, Neil,” Aaron said. “You should sit down.”
Neil promptly sat as if there was a chair under him, but there was not. Aaron, still holding Neil vertical, got pulled out of his chair with the momentum. To avoid toppling to the ground—which did not get mopped as often as it should—Aaron planted his feet on the floor and hauled Neil up by his armpits.
“Help,” Neil murmured. His arms dropped to his sides as he yielded his dead weight to Aaron.
“Stand up,” Aaron grunted, readjusting to wrap an arm around Neil’s back. One of Neil’s arms flopped over Aaron’s shoulder.
“I am,” Neil complained.
“No, you are not.”
“I am.”
“Neil,” Aaron said through clenched teeth, “I am holding you up. You need to lock your knees.”
“Oh,” Neil said. He looked at his feet as if he needed to check they were on the ground.
To be fair, Neil did lock his knees, but he also leaned all of his upper body on Aaron, arms still hanging limply at his sides. He tucked his head into Aaron’s neck with, what seemed, every intention to make a home there for the night.
“Neil,” Aaron said, frozen against the hair tickling his cheek. “God dammit.”
“And…ron,” Neil spoke against his shoulder.
“Yes,” Aaron said sarcastically. “That’s me.”
“Can I j’stay here?” Neil slurred.
From what Aaron had seen of Neil’s dynamic with his brother, he knew Neil would get off if he said no. He could place Neil into a stool or pull up a chair with a back so he wouldn’t fall out and concuss himself. He could shove Neil off and make him fend for himself. He could pawn him off to Andrew.
At the moment, those other options seemed like far too much work.
That, or maybe it was the med student in him, the intrinsic urge to heal and help and nurture that smarted at the thought of pushing Neil off.
Aaron didn’t push him off when Neil readjusted and tucked an arm into his chest, the other gripping Aaron for stability. He didn’t when Neil asked again, a quiet, “Aaron.”
“Okay,” Aaron conceded. He rubbed a hand up and down Neil’s back placatingly, but also because Neil seemed like he needed it. And he came to Aaron for it. Well, he came to Andrew and got Aaron. But he didn’t push Aaron off, and Aaron hasn’t done the same.
And they just…stood like that. For what seemed like a long time, but it probably was only a few minutes before Neil spoke again.
“Aaron,” Neil said.
Aaron hummed in response.
“I don’ hate you.”
“What?” Aaron asked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Neil?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“What?” Aaron said again.
“I don’wanna fight.” Neil lets out a colossal breath.
“We haven’t fought in a long time,” Aaron says, his idea of agreement. Acceptance.
Neil was quiet, because it was true. Neil seemed content to lay in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron didn’t have another stool next to him. He sure as shit wasn’t giving his up for Neil, but Neil was genuinely so unsteady on his feet that Aaron couldn’t let him go.
He trembled a bit, and Aaron was almost amused that after everything Neil had been through, being a little too drunk is what finally did it for him.
But Aaron had felt that way before. Inebriated and scared in a crowded room of strangers. Neil, however, has people he knows. How can Aaron be upset at Neil for wanting the comfort that he also craved? How can he be upset that Neil feels safe enough with Andrew to ask for help? That his brother finally feels safe with someone too?
“Aaron,” Neil said.
“What,” Aaron said.
“It’s okay if you hate me.”
“Oh God,” Aaron groaned, “Ew. Are you really an emotional drunk?”
Neil pulled back and, to Aaron’s horror, there were actual tears in his eyes. His lip trembled as he bit it, holding the tears in. Aaron hated how much of himself he was seeing in Neil tonight. The harrowing fact that maybe they are quite similar.
“Oh God,” Aaron said again, mortified. He grabbed the back of Neil’s head and shoved it back into his shoulder, effectively hiding Neil’s teary face.
He cast a desperate look to Andrew, who was finally on his way back to the table. He patted Neil on the shoulder, like one would burp a baby when they have no idea how to do so.
“Andrew.”
Andrew didn’t need prompting to look. His eyes were trained on Neil and Aaron from the moment he turned around. By the nonchalance of his movements and his lack of alarm, Aaron guessed he had been watching their interaction.
Andrew set the tray down on the table and cast a significant look between them, settling on Neil’s intoxicated form keeled over on Aaron’s shoulder.
Andrew raises one eyebrow, a silent question, an okay?
Aaron finds himself nodding, and unsure why. All he knows right now, a few drinks in, is that he doesn’t hate this. And he doesn’t hate that Neil doesn’t hate him.
-
The smell of coffee set Neil’s feet moving like a Pavlovian response. He was half awake already with a pounding headache, like his eyeballs were beating his closed lids to death.
Neil toddles down the stairs with his eyes closed, a hand pressed hard to his temple, stabilizing his brain.
Aaron was standing at the counter already, facing the sputtering coffee pot. His arms were crossed, hair ruffled from sleep. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned.
The memories from last night played past Neil’s mind like a sped-up movie. He grimaced in embarrassment, and felt a little sick at how drunk he was. How stupid he was, to drink that much. He should have known his tolerance isn’t matched with the rest of them. He could have gotten hurt, could have said something—
Fuck.
“Fuck,” Neil said, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Aaron said. He turned back to the coffee, though his posture was rigid.
Neil grabbed a glass of water. He noticed Aaron watching from the corner of his eye, but Neil chose to ignore him, figuring that’s best. He sat on the counter with his water, sipping it slowly while he and Aaron waited for the coffee to finish brewing.
The silence was thick, but they were both too stubborn to leave the kitchen. Usually, they preferred to wait and pretend the other wasn’t there.
That’s what Neil thought, at least. After a painful few minutes, Aaron huffed and grabbed the bottle of Advil from the drawer next to the sink. He shook two pills out and sat them next to Neil.
Neil stared at them until Aaron cast a pointed look at the pills, then physically gestured to them with raised brows. Neil took them while Aaron watched.
The coffee pot beeped. Aaron made a split second decision, grabbing two mugs and pouring coffee into them. He slid Neil’s across the counter. It sloshed over the side, but Aaron wasn’t capable of caring at the moment. His mind was busy, and he knew Neil had noticed his lack of eye contact; the analytical fuck.
“Look,” Aaron said. He did not look at Neil to say it. “You’re annoying, and you never know when to shut your mouth or mind your business. Most of the time, I’m convinced you have a death wish, and a lot of the time I find myself resenting you. You complicated our lives, put us all in danger, didn’t give a shit.”
Neil’s chest hurt. He didn’t know if it was anger or guilt. Aaron started talking again before he could figure it out.
“But I don’t hate you. I can’t, really. I can’t even fault you for the shitty things you did, because it all worked out.” Aaron glanced quickly at Neil, looked away. His cheeks were red.
The thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for being good to Andrew went unsaid, but Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t obtuse enough to force him to say it out loud.
Neil must have understood, because he nodded. Aaron figured that was as close to a reconciliation they were going to have, so he leaned against the counter and pretended everything was normal.
For the first time, they drank their coffee in silence without animosity orchestrating it.
Neil’s mug was half empty when Andrew joined them. He paused in the doorway, squinty eyed and mussed, looking between the two. Neil on the counter, Aaron leaning against it. Their silence, but lack of tension.
“This is weird,” Andrew finally said, his voice gravely from sleep.
“Yeah,” Neil and Aaron said simultaneously.
Neil glanced over his mug at Aaron, the corner of his mouth twitching. Aaron regarded it, but looked away, because something like contentment had made its way onto Andrew’s face.
Aaron smiled at that instead.
#andrew’s watching from the bar like ‘what in the fuck.’#neil isn’t allowed to drink vodka anymore#andrew got tired of him crying#(not actually)#(his heart just *does something* when he sees neil in tears#(he does not like it)#he gets anxious and sad if he drinks too much#and he’s such a lightweight and doesn’t know his limits#so it happens a couple times before andrew is like ‘nope’#and monitors neil until they find a fun fuzzy drunk#not a sad scary one#neil doesn’t even drink that often but after 4 years in college he obviously does more than a few times#aftg#tfc#the foxhole court#aftg brainrot#neil josten#aaron minyard#andrew minyard#all for the game#trk#tkm#andreil
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the leverage team would have had a games night… once. everyone cheated so much and in such increasingly extreme ways that all mentions of monopoly are banned in their headquarters (this makes talking about marks who monopolize the market very confusing)
#leverage#nate wouldn’t cheat but he’d be by far the most annoying still. like he’d conduct a whole Scheme to win and give a little monologue wheneve#he made a good move and everyone would want to kill him#parker woukd obvs be stealing money & cards and she’d move their pieces and swap their stuff#but also she’d try to use her turn to rob the bank#sophie would use neurolinguistic programming and dominate the board w properties#which somehow parker would literally never land on and that’s incredibly suspicious but none of them really know how she could possibly be#manipulating that fact? it’s logically impossible bc they’re watching her roll the die and move the piece and sophie knows which properties#she owns so it makes no sense. but parker is parker and she simply will not be caught (even by sophie’s properties)#hardison has studied monopoly theory (yes there are math theories on how to play monopoly) and /tries/ to abide by them but again. sophie i#manipulating him and parker is stealing from him (and sometimes oddly enough *for* him. new money ends up in his bank somehow) so it’s hard#so eventually he resorts to cheating like Everyone Fucking Else and does pretty well bc he rlly does know what sets he wants etc.#eliot is genuinely playing normally. no cheating no math stuff no schemes.#but he’s just sitting there fuming the entire time bc they’re all very obviously messing with the game and he Knew this was gonna happen bu#goddamn hardison & parker especially know how to get on his nerves (often purposely)#he calms down by making some snacks and. resorting to also cheating lol.#leverageposting
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Finarfin Fades.
No one expects it, no one’s faded in Valinor since Miriel. The War of Wrath is won and he comes back, waving off the courtiers, well wishers, and congratulators with his usual grace, and walks into the palace of Tirion. To rooms abandoned since their owners left so long ago. Winding deeper and deeper his feet take him to what was once Finwë’s favourite garden.
He’s so tired.
He’s fulfilled his promise to Fëanaro and Nolofinwë, to avenge them. To make the agony of their final moments - agony Finarfin felt, falling to the floor screaming as fire and darkness consumed his spirit - count for something. Now Morgoth is finally gone, but he’s not the only one.
His brothers, larger than life, larger than death, are gone. With them his sons. Niece. Nephews. Grandchildren. His daughter is never to return. He Saw little Nelyo’s death in his dreams and is sure hopes for the child’s own sake that Makalaurë will be close behind.
Little remains. Even less on these golden shores.
So Finarfin sits on a bench long overgrown with vines and weeds, and watches the sun filter through the thicket, wishing the ghosts he sees in his father’s garden would flesh out.
He sits. He waits.
And by the time anyone finds him, it’s too late.
…at least he’s smiling again.
#au i guess#Every so often I’m hit with Finarfin feels#and it *hurts*#we love Finarfin in this house#my poor guy deserved better#I know Finrod is reembodied but let’s say it would’ve happened after the war#the Valar didn’t expect this though#and they can’t make it better#Finarfin’s lost too much and he’s tired#tired like his half-brother’s mother#and they know he won’t return until his brothers are let out#maybe that’s what finally convinced them to let out Fëanor and Fingolfin#they’re waiting in the Halls btw#the whole fam is#they’re proud#and Arafinwë finally gets some rest#Finarfin#Arafinwë#war of wrath#fëanor#fingolfin#they’re haunting this whole thing#you can decide where Eärwen is in all this#I usually hc her as having stayed with her husband but maybe she leaves in this one#or maybe she’s gone for a few weeks trying to settle the new arrivals before heading back#not my best work but alas#midnight writings yanno#silmarillion#ITHOF Writes
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extremely normal girl simulator
#i got this strange urge to draw them#watching playthroughs of this in middle school genuinely changed me i think. anyway i've only drawn natsuki and like once and like 7 years#ago for like. a vine reference. so. hooray#ddlc#doki doki literature club#skrunkart#looking back at this sayori looks so much like a muppet#like it happens pretty often given how i draw noses but like. wow she particularly looks like a muppet
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You ever think about how neither of them got to say goodbye?
#TSAMS#Sun and Moon Show#The Sun and Moon Show#TSAMS Lunar#SAMS Lunar#Sun#SAMS Sun#FNAF Sun#FNAF#Five Nights At Freddy's#MeaganCanDraw#I love New Moon a lot don't get me wrong but Old Moon's and Sun's relationship wasn't black and white (as much as NM wants to insist it was#YES Old Moon treated Sun horribly YES he wasn't the best person but#their relationship was also complicated and messy and they both genuinely loved each other despite everything#So much of what they did was for each other and that adds even more to the tragedy of their relationship and Moon's death#Sun and Old Moon's final conversation was them fighting#Moon's final in-person words to him were “I love you and I'm sorry”#to which Sun didn't say anything bc he was mad at him (which I don't blame him for given everything that happened in that episode)#Do you think Sun has realized this? How often does he go back to that moment#How often has he imagined himself saying or doing something different? Something that would've resulted in them leaving that bunker togethe#Meanwhile Lunar lost the person who gave him a new life and a family that actually cares about him#And he was in Moon's head for months and saw first hand how much his regrets and trauma affected him#Both of which would eventually destroy him due to the cycle of self-loathing he was trapped in#How much does HE think about that?#Anyway sorry for not posting for nearly (checks watch) two years??#It'll likely happen again#1k
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got him off-balance!
#my art#ds9#star trek deep space nine#julian bashir#elim garak#garashir#watercolor#image desc in alt text#i normally post on mondays but. today im breaking my pattern! getting a little silly. getting a little wild. garashir jumpscare#“tumblr user chitinleg garak would neot easily let himself be swooped off his feet into a hug like that” yes i know BUT!#look at his expression. look at how his arms r pinned. he didnt let this happen LMAO julian just surprised him. grabby huggy human behavior#if you look really closely you can see the tiniest frown in the world on Garak's face. because he's like “EEP !”#cant see bashirs face at all in this only his body but i think we can all imagine that whatevers going thru his head. he needs this hug bad#ALSO. for anyone wondering what the fucked up shadow is that starts at the juncture of the teal sleeve-cap where its set into the armhole#the jumpsuits have a bit of a fold of extra fabric (called an Action Pleat) there which allows for a little more maneuverability of the bod#AND creates a really sleek and flat back panel#because you can see the fabric twists along the side arent grabbing the flat back fabric theyre grabbing the fabric folded beneath it#often times i think about drawing out a dissection of kiras first uniform and this voy era one for other artists to use. bc god knows#i struggled at first to find full body references#they like to shoot ds9 very close to peoples heads. and the camera is so blurry. they smeared butter on that thing. god bless
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I firmly believe that any movement focused on how you *think* people should act instead of how they *actually* act is doomed to failure. In light of that I think it's clear that Democrats have failed to engage voters and drive turnout, and they desperately need a new strategy before 2026.
My sympathy for the absolute children who think it's a candidate's responsibility to get them "excited" about politics in exchange for spending the time to vote one day out of every 1460 instead of viewing being an educated voter as a civic responsibility is at an absolute fucking zero right now
#'oh so i'm supposed to vote JUST because trump is a fascist?? even though i don't feel like dems really CARE about me???'#you're always supposed to vote dipshit it came free with your democracy#and yes i'm aware that elections happen more often than every 1460 days#but i suspect the people who can't be bothered to vote for president are not showing up for midterms and primaries either#us politics
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WOWIE! THIS WAS A GREAT IDEA, FRISK!
Extra:
Frisk: Next time you should take Sans!
Toriel: THERE WILL BE NO “”NEXT TIME””
Papyrus: WHATS THE PROBLEM, MS TORIEL?? ITS PERFECTLY SAFE, YOU CAN TRUST ME!!
Sans: next time we should totally go when its night out so we can see the stars.
lastly, a work in progress 😭😭
#(in tears) PEOPLE FORGET THAT PAPYRUS CAN FLY AND THIS WOULD LIKE TOTALLY HAPPEN EHDHDHD#I love him so much#hes so perfect#hes so#hes the most#hes the worlds greatest#papyrus undertale#Frisk undertale#Papyrus and frisk#Papyrus and the human#undertale fanart#undertale#papyrus#the forgettable au can be applied here i declare. it has absolutely nothing to do with it but we’re gonns come out and sayhe used to be din#I neglect treating frisk like an actual character#i should do that more often#cause omfg this is so adorable……#this was mainly background practice though#constructive critism welcome
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I actually think Dorian and Orym should fight more.
Remember when their slowly building tension over and entire episode (full of passive aggressive remarks and blame throwing) led to threats? And how after, Orym thanked Dorian for handing over the crown sadly because he knew Dorian would be mad at him? And Dorian couldn't even look at him because he was legitimately hurt, thinking Orym was disappointed in him for doing what he thought was right? That was peak.
The fact they went from that to their current closeness and trust is the best part of their entire dynamic. Their relationship was hard fought and still will be. They will fight for it because they respect and care for one another deeply, and their disagreements don't change that, only improve it.
#critical role#cr3#orym#dorian#dorym#text post#cr discourse#'dorian deserved that actually and is being stupid by agreeing with ludinus'#'orym was too mean and needs to be quiet about his trauma'#just say you don't understand their characters#or that they are characters#you don't have to agree with them. they can make decisions you wouldn't make and disagree with#its good tv regardless#dorian didnt deserve that and orym was too harsh#dorian needed to be reminded of the consequences of indulging those ideas and viewpoints and orym is tired of this discussion happening#these things can coexist#neither of them have the whole picture here. we can't judge them based off of what we as viewers know#dorian didn't see first hand what the ruby vanguard has done. only what the spider queen did so thats on his mind more than anything#orym didnt see first hand (nor hear many details) about opal and cyrus. only what the vanguard has been doing to them for months#let them bicker and argue#its the best part#only going near the discourse because i have been waiting years for more of this and bitches on twitter are complaining about it#and often from people who don't even like orym (or sometimes dorian). go back to ignoring them and let me enjoy this moment in peace#i know i am adding to the discourse but i needed to find other people who want more dorym relationship drama before we get more fluff
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