#not asking for a hundred thousand dollars

[rambling-at-midnight]

When the Truth Comes Out

Request: Reader asks, "So, when are you going to ask me to marry you?" I hope I did your prompt justice!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: It’s been three and a half years since Jason asked you out, and he knows you’re the one. He knows every part of you, the good and bad, and loves it all. The problem is that you don’t know everything about him… and his secrets may ruin everything.

Word count: 3.5k

Jason’s never been one to window shop, but lately he’s been noticing the glint of jewelry.

You give him a weird look when he stumbles in the middle of the department store. It’s because a ring display caught him off guard like a punch to the gut, but he can’t explain that, so Jason waves off your concerned questioning.

You give him a weird look before turning back to the toy aisle. The two of you spent the morning bickering over what present to give Damian for Christmasukkah. You want to give him a keyboard to learn piano, but Jason’s sure that Damian would be happier receiving an art kit. He knows violin, which is a strings instrument, not whatever the piano is. Besides, the kid’s a brat. He’d want a full-size grand piano that originally belonged to Mozart or some shit and costs a hundred thousand dollars, which isn’t exactly pocket cash for the two of you.

And, sure, Jason’s got one of Bruce’s credit cards in his wallet—Bruce offered to give him one in Jason’s name, but it was the principle of using the stolen card, so Jason turned him down—but he’d be damned before he spoiled the kid any more than he already is.

He keeps his eyes firmly on you after that. It’s where they’re supposed to be, anyway.

You end up getting the keyboard after surreptitiously checking your bank account against your projected budget several times. It’s funny. After three years, you still think you can hide stuff like that from Jason. Probably because he pretends not to notice. He makes a mental note to stop by your landlord’s and see if the Red Hood can make any suggestions about lowering rent for your building.

As the two of you walk out of the store, a cold gust of wind tries to steal your breath away. You step closer to Jason, cold fingers twining with his, and he easily drapes an arm over your shoulders to keep you close. “Was that the last one?”

“I think so,” you reply, checking your list again. “The keyboard for Damian, massage gun for Dick, matching pajamas for Cass and Steph, Pokemon expansion pack for Duke, and the fuzzy socks for Tim.”

The socks are decorated with the words ‘I BREACHED CONTAINMENT’ in black stitching. Jason saw them in a tourist trap he saved from a D-list rogue and remembered how Tim looked like the bog monster after falling into the sewers the day before. They’ve been sitting in his closet since the end of August.

“I have too many siblings,” Jason sighs.

“Have you figured out what you’re giving Bruce?”

Jason bites his lip.

You say, “Ah. Well, you still have a couple days.”

Yeah. Jason has two. He’d been supposed to look out for anything to catch his eye in the store, but all he noticed was the stupid ring display.

He opens the car door for you, then shoves the keyboard in its box into the backseat and starts the engine. Jason drives home one-handed. The other holds yours loosely over the console. You’re checking your bank account again on your phone, frowning slightly, thumb brushing up and down Jason’s palm. He keeps an eye on you as he drives, playing idly by squeezing your fingers one by one until you have to try to hide a smile by looking out the window. 

He doesn’t let go of your third finger. Something nags at the back of his mind, like—

Jason realizes that he’s trying to find a ring, and his heart stops. The car jumps forward when he slams on the gas, and he drops your hand to put both of his on the wheel as he swerves around a minivan. You let out a startled yelp, hands flying out for something to grab onto. The stupid keyboard slides off the back seat and into the footwell.

Two cars lay on their horns when he nearly sideswipes them. Jason responds with an emphatic middle finger and cuts across three lanes to get away. The poor car doesn’t respond as well to his driving as his motorcycle does, and the engine whines as he leaves the other cars in the dust until he eases off.

As soon as the car reaches a relatively normal speed, you say, “Jay! What just happened?”

“Sorry,” is all he can say, keeping both arms stiff on the wheel. “Sorry, honey.”

“You okay?”

“‘M good. You good?”

“I’m okay, I was just…” You keep looking at him, and Jason’s skin prickles. Do you know? Can you tell?

Jason creaks like old wood, but he pulls back his right arm and puts his hand on the console, palm up. After a moment, you put your left overtop it. He can feel your pulse racing through the thin skin of your wrist.

He squeezes.

You squeeze back.

The day before Christmas, Jason still doesn’t know what to give Bruce. He’d hoped that baking would fix the block, but as he abuses the poor sopapilla dough, he’s no further to any answers.

You’re at the counter, offering moral support but not physical help. Jason’s a bit of a control freak in the kitchen when he’s anxious.

He’s not anxious. He’s not! It doesn’t matter if he gives Bruce something for Chrismukkah. Bruce doesn’t even celebrate Christmas. ‘Not trying to kill him’ is probably a good enough present.

Or the sopapillas. Sure, everyone’s bringing a dish, but no one said it couldn’t also be Jason’s present. But if he goes that route, then the pastries have to be perfect, and the last batch didn’t fluff up the way they did when Catherine made them.

“Jay,” you say after another five minutes of Jason punching dough that is already thoroughly kneaded.

“Yes, love?”

“I think the oil might be ready.”

Judging by the hiss and pops behind him, it is, and has been for several minutes.

Jason tries his best to follow his mother’s actions through his memory, but this batch doesn’t turn out right, either.

“Here,” he says wearily, placing the overflowing plate in front of you. “Let ‘em cool off.”

You wait as long as you can, fingers drumming on the counter as you watch tiny curls of steam drift up from the pile of pastries. Finally, you give in. “Oh my gosh,” you say around a mouthful that was a little too hot, judging by your wince. “Jay, these are amazing.”

“It’s not right, though,” he argues.

“Jay, I didn’t even think it was possible, but these are better than your last batch.”

He shakes his head stubbornly.

“Well, we’ll keep working on it,” you decide. “But really, if you bring these tomorrow, no one will complain. If they do…” You hold up a fist and shake it, mustering up (what you think is) a ferocious scowl.

Jason’s lips twitch. “What if Damian complains? Are you prepared to hit a child?”

“I can’t believe you would even ask me that,” you say. “I live in Gotham. I’ve been waiting for that moment my entire life.”

Despite himself, Jason laughs. He picks up one of the pastries from the dish and bites into it. They could have used more honey. Maybe that was the problem. But you’re right. These are good, and if they’re not, so what? It’s not like Bruce expects much from him anyway.

Jason’s chest squeezes.

Bruce should just be grateful that Jason is there at all.

Fuck.

It’s getting too hard to deny. Despite all his best efforts, Jason has to admit… maybe he does love his family.

It’s the first holiday season where he hasn’t been incandescent with rage toward one of them or another, and he’d underestimated just how nervous he would be. Despite everything that happened between them, he wants tomorrow to go well. The first night of Hanukkah is the same day as Christmas this year, which hasn’t happened for about twenty years. It’ll be Damian’s third Chrismukkah and the first where everyone is in attendance—Jason wasn’t on speaking terms with the family his first year, and Bruce was in the time stream and Tim was across the world last year.

“Hey, Jay.”

“Hmm.”

You swallow without making eye contact, and if he was paying even a little bit more attention, he would have known to prepare himself for what you said next.

“When are you gonna ask me to marry you?”

Jason is a selfish asshole. It’s a miracle that you haven’t figured that out yet after three years of dating him. He half-expects to come back to the apartment to find his stuff in bags. That’s the main reason he’s still out in the cold.

He’s in the middle of another drag when a teasing voice says from behind, “Ooh, must have been a rough day.”

Jason’s hand twitches for his gun, but he recognizes the voice. So he only rolls his eyes and says around the cigarette, “What do you want?”

“Your partner asked me to check up on you. Apparently you looked pretty freaked when you took off.”

Fuck. Jason groans. “How worried did they seem?”

“Ummm….”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, you kind of messed up.” Spoiler sits next to him, dangles her legs over the side of the roof, and lets them swing idly. “Or they messed up. I thought you quit smoking?”

He exhales a thick plume of smoke. “I did,” Jason says. Dying from smoke inhalation was bad once, but a habit is a habit.

“If it makes you feel any better, they seemed more concerned about you. Not, like, mad or anything.”

Well, that’s something.

“So what happened?”

Jason grunts. Maybe if he stares into the horizon long enough, Spoiler will give up. That was the technique Batman always used when Robin asked the tough questions like, ‘Why am I going home early so you can interrogate Catwoman on your own?’

It only worked sometimes.

Unfortunately, Spoiler seems immune.

Jason grunts and drops the butt of his cigarette. He itches for another, but you’ll already wrinkle up your nose at the smell of one. And, shit, what are you even going to think about him high-tailing it out after that question, leaving for hours, and coming back stinking of smoke?

“I’m a fucking idiot. And an asshole.”

Spoiler huffs. “Everyone already knows that, dumbass. They certainly do.”

“Thanks,” Jason says drily.

“Anytime!” she chirps.

Her heels beat against the side of the building.

She’s not leaving anytime soon, so Jason sighs and gives in. “They asked when I was planning on proposing.”

Spoiler gasps and jumps to her feet. “Oh my God!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yep.”

“So you’re engaged?”

“What? No.”

“What?”

“They asked when I would propose. That wasn’t a proposal… I don’t think so. I mean, there wasn’t a ring,” Jason says helplessly.

Spoiler socks him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Damn, but the girl can pack a punch. He rubs at the sore spot, scowling.

“You stupid idiot!”

“I know.”

“And you just ran away?”

Jason cringes and admits to his lap, “Yes.”

Spoiler hits him in the exact same spot on his shoulder.

“Goddamn it, stop that!”

“I’m going to kill you, Jason Peter Todd.”

“You could certainly try, Stephanie… Brown,” he shoots back.

“You don’t even know my middle name?”

“I don’t care about you.”

She lifts her fist again, but Jason twists out of the way before she can hit him a third time in the same shoulder. It’ll be bruised tomorrow.

“You don’t get it,” he says, balancing on the edge of the roof and feeling exceptionally unstable, even though he’s walked across ledges like this since he was twelve.

“What don’t I get? That you have an awesome partner waiting for you at home? One that wants to get married? One that—”

“One that has no idea who I am,” Jason hisses. He brandishes his helmet at the girl. “We’ve been together for three years. They have no idea that I’m the Red Hood. It made sense, at first; I can’t go around telling everyone I kiss what my identity is—”

“Right,” she scoffs sarcastically, “like you’re some kind of serial kisser, Todd. Half the city would know your identity if you did that.”

“Shut up,” Jason half-says, half-groans, and by some miracle, she does. “At first, obviously I couldn’t tell them. Then I wanted to keep waiting. I wanted to know that they were, you know, the one and everything.”

Spoiler fake-gags. Jason ignores her.

“And after that it was just too late. I waited too long. I can’t marry them unless they know about the mask, but who would agree to marry someone that’s been lying to them for three years? The entire time they’ve known me?”

“Huh,” says Spoiler.

‘Huh’ indeed.

“So I ran,” Jason says. “I don’t even know if I said anything. The next thing I knew, I was in the street with a pack of cigs and a lighter in my pocket. I came up here to smoke a couple before going back and ending things.”

“You—wait, ‘ending things?’” Spoiler’s head whips around, the white lenses of her domino widening. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t lie to them,” says Jason. “When I go back, I’ll tell them the truth. And they’ll break up with me for lying for years. I was just trying to put it off.”

The worst thing was, he wasn’t even trying to lie for most of it. You took his excuses easily, believed him about a boxing gym membership to explain away the bruises, and never uttered a complaint about the odd hours he worked. Every time he was late to a date or canceled, you understood. Every time he forgot something important, odds were that you’d forgotten, too, without him to remind you.

All things considered, Jason might have found the single least curious person in all of Gotham, if you hadn’t figured it out after three years. But he’d gotten so comfortable that he’d forgotten that it was a secret, really. It had all rushed back in when he heard your words like a smack to the face, and he’d panicked.

“You don’t know that,” Spoiler says softly.

“Could you forgive someone for something like this?”

She stays silent, and that’s answer enough.

Jason huffs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the pack of cigarettes and lighter, and considers them. Then he sighs and drops both on the ground. “Might as well get this over with.”

The cold Gotham air whips away the reek of smoke by the time he’s back at your apartment. Jason looks at the door like a condemned man looks at the gallows. He could sneak in through the window like he usually does, but he selfishly wants you to open the door for him. Show that he’s welcome now, even though he won’t be for long.

Seconds drag on like torturous minutes until he hears the familiar click of the lock. The door inches open with a screech.

Jason’s mouth goes dry at the sight of your wide eyes. “Hey, darling.”

Wordlessly, you open the door further and step aside to let him in.

Funny how a place he’s practically lived in can feel so unfamiliar. Jason shifts between feet as you re-lock your door.

The moment you turn around, he blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

You say the same thing.

“What?” Jason asks.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you say.

“No, I was an ass,” he insists. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“I didn’t mean to push you. I just saw you looking at rings, and we’ve talked about it, but still, marriage is a big step, so I wanted to be prepared,” you ramble. “I mean, we said that we could get married, but we never discussed when, or when the proposal would be—”

“Honey!”

You fall silent.

“Just wait,” Jason begs. He can’t stand any more of your endless understanding. You’ve only ever understood him, no matter what, and he’s going to miss it so much. He’s going to miss you so much. “Wait one second.” He retreats to the bedroom and returns a moment later with something clutched behind his back. Your eyes dart to the awkward way he’s contorted his arm.

Your face goes blank when he pulls out the spare helmet he keeps below your bed. He’d only used a domino when out with Spoiler, but that wouldn’t do for the grand reveal.

“I’m the Red Hood,” he says in a rush, then braces for your judgment.

You don’t react except to say, “Jason.”

He doesn’t understand. You’re not scared of the killer in your apartment. You’re not furious at the man that’s lied to you for three years. Obviously you don’t understand what he’s saying. “Honey, I’m the Red Hood. The vigilante.”

“Jay—”

You’re still just standing with no reaction. Jason holds the mask up so you’re making eye contact with it.

You push it out of the way and cradle his face with both your hands. “Jason Peter Todd, look at me,” you command.

Jason holds your gaze. It’s the last time he’ll ever be so close to you, and he never wants to forget what your presence feels like.

“Jay, I’ve known basically the whole time.”

What.

Jason blinks.

“What?”

“I already knew.”

“Honey, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. I’m the—”

“Red Hood, yes, I know.” You muster up a tremulous smile. “And Bruce is Batman. Dick is Nightwing. Steph is Spoiler, Damian is Robin, Tim is—”

“Oh my God, you knew? How did you know?”

“Jason. My love. My darling. My honey bunchkin.” You give him a mildly scolding look. “I’m not an idiot.”

Jason’s ears heat. “And you’re not… mad?”

“That you’re the Red Hood?” You cock your head. “Of course not. I worry about you, of course. But you have to do it. I know that. Or am I mad that you tried to keep it a secret for three years?” You press your lips together to hide a growing smile. “No. I’m not mad about that either. You can’t exactly go around telling your secret identity to everyone you kiss. It’s just something I had to figure out on my own.”

“You knew,” Jason marvels. “You knew this whole time.”

“Most of the whole time,” you say. “But yes.”

“Oh my God.” Jason’s moving before he can stop himself, and he wraps you up in his arms and spins you around. “I thought you would hate me,” he confesses, still clutching you like his life depends on it. “When I finally told you.”

A soft hand runs through his hair. “Is that why you ran?” you ask softly.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, honey, I just—”

“I get it,” you interrupt.

“You were scared.”

A thought occurs to Jason with such clarity he nearly drops you. “Wait, so you were going to marry me even after you knew about the mask?”

“Of course,” you say. “I love you, Jay. Mask and all.”

“I don’t have a ring.”

“I don’t need one. Don’t you get it? I only need you.”

“I only need you, too.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Jason agrees, and he probably looks like a fool with his wide grin, but you can’t stop smiling either. He dips his head, and you rise up to press your lips to his, even though with both your grins you end up clicking teeth.

“Good,” you repeat.

“Good,” Jason says, just for good measure, and this time he makes sure the kiss is better. Lightning shoots up his spine and he pulls back to ask, “Wait, are we engaged now?”

“Um… yes?”

“That’s awesome.”

Your smile is so wide that your eyes nearly close. Jason’s pretty sure he looks the same as he sweeps you up and spins you around. You fit perfectly into his arms. He’s never going to let you go.

“My fianceé,” he says fondly. “I’m never going to get tired of saying that.”

“I’m marrying you,” you marvel, sweeping your thumb over his mouth. “I have the prettiest husband-to-be in the whole world.”

“I love you,” Jason confesses. “So much.”

“I love you, too.”

Seconds before your mouths meet for another kiss, Jason’s phone buzzes. On the off-chance it’s an important alert, he pulls it out, but it’s just Spoiler asking for an update.

Jason stows the device. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I know how to make the sopapillas the right way.”

“Oh? And how’s that?”

It turns out that Jason’s right.

Making them with your help turns out to be what was missing the whole time.

DC Taglist

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My inbox is open! Stop by to request something or just to say hi!

[bitingdrivers]

🎄 merry christmas! have this bones au ficlet as a present. maxiel, 600 words

Max is sitting on the narrow bridge overlooking the lab. He is used to seeing the lab empty, the all-nighters he has been pulling would prove that. But it still feels wrong to him. They are not supposed to be locked here a day before Christmas, quarantining for a disease they were not supposed to get. The CDC made sure they were as comfortable as they could get – gave them sleeping bags to sleep on the cold lab floors, spare clothes and food. 

But it's still wrong. The others were so excited to spend their holidays with their loved ones. But now all they had was a maximum of half an hour on a video call, trying to console their families and giving rushed Merry Christmases before the next person’s turn. 

Charles was planning on spending the holidays in New York with his current girlfriend. She looked very upset on the screen until Charles promised to take her out to some fancy restaurant once he got there. 

Carlos was apparently going to fly to Scotland and spend his holidays playing golf with his family. His mom and dad assured him they would wait for him as long as they needed. 

Lewis called his dad and they chatted about their plans after Christmas – going to church, seeing the Christmas tree. Then he had asked about Roscoe – apparently Lewis has a dog. Max didn't know that. 

Oscar took the longest on his call, his family was very excited to finally have him home for Christmas and now they were trying to find out if “the government would buy Oscar a new ticket, because it's clearly their fault he's missing Christmas.” Oscar said he would ask the CDC, but Max already checked and there's a plane to Melbourne tomorrow evening Oscar can catch if he accepts the ticket Max bought for him. Max hopes he does. 

Daniel didn't call his family. He sent a text and then asked Max if he wanted the hot chocolate the CDC guys brought them. 

So now Max is sitting on the bridge waiting for Daniel. They all agreed to swap their Secret Santa presents in the evening and Max is excited, although he wouldn't tell anyone that.

He hears heavy steps and looks over to find Daniel coming closer with two mugs in his hands. Max moves over a bit, even though there's enough space for them both. 

“Here. Carlos heated them up with a blowtorch for some reason, so be careful,” Daniel carefully hands him one of the mugs. Max accepts the mug and wraps both of his hands around it. 

“I finally identified the coin we found in the victim’s belongings. Apparently it's a copper penny from 1943–” Max slowly lifts the mug. Daniel says something, but Max continues talking. “And this website says that it's worth one hundred thousand dollars–” Max brings the mug to his lips, but suddenly Daniel's hand covers the top of the mug.

“It-it's hot. I said be careful,.” Daniel looks down as he takes away his hand. 

“I'll be fine,” Max says, but blows gently at the chocolate. Then he takes a sip. 

“Is it good?” Daniel asks, his hot chocolate still untouched. 

“Its–” Daniel's eyes are the same color as the chocolate. 

“Hey!” Carlos’ voice startles them both. They look down to see him holding a beaker with eggnog he's been brewing all day, a red santa hat with bells perched on his head. “Everyone is ready to exchange presents, we are waiting for you.” 

“We'll be there in a minute, man,” Daniel says and moves to stand up. Max takes another look at the Christmas decorations around the lab and stands up too. The mug is still warm in his hands. 

[hafwen]

I thought Toni was the universe's way of saying, "things have been shit here's a light at the end of the tunnel" but in reality it was, "it will still be shit but here's something else to hang onto"

[blueskittlesart]

btw the best part about all the zine sales ive made isnt the money or the fact that i get to sell art im proud of or the satisfaction of making a product or any of that lame shit its the fact that its making my parents actually believe im capable of doing art as a career for real

[luna-loveboop]

Out of curiosity, are you using a dremel to etch the glass?

No! No dremels!!!

... ok so anyways. The tool I use for etching glass, carving eggs, stone, whatever else I get my hands on, is a rotary drill. It is not, however, a dremel.

Basically dremels (dremels are a brand of drills/tools btw for anyone who didn't know) are not small enough, with small enough bits, or fast enough rotation, to be delicate enough for all the stuff I do. Glass especially- the rotations and vibrations can easily be too much if I go too deep. Overall to etch glass and eggs like I do I need... a dental drill!!

Uhh so yeah, I can and absolutely will not cut your teeth out. The rotary drill I use looks like this:

It can go to 50,000 rotations per minute (really fast!) and has a pencil handpiece. This isn't exactly a drill you will see in a dental practice, but it is a dental drill. Me and my dentist have regular arguments about who's drill is better (mine goes faster but his has more power behind it lmao)

Small clip of it in action (warning for smoll screechy noise)-

The way I had to hold my hand to get this shot was terrible it sucked

I had to save up for a bit when I was younger to get this drill, and it's about as cheap as it'll get. The thing is for glass etching/engraving, egg carving, stone carving, etc, is that there isn't enough demand with the small amount of artists to justify anyone making drills specifically for it. So artists like me who want to make stuff in that area literally have to buy dental office drills, which, while hilarious, is really expensive.

Sorry if I've rambled too long- I'm proud of my drill <33 if anyone has questions about my uhh throwing whatever together art process, feel free to ask, I know yall are curious bc it's not exactly common.

:))

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

This is a genuine innocent ask

Since ofmd is officially over, where does all the money donated go? This is not just a question for the fandom bit in general when ur raising money for a renewal but it fails.

so i mean, in general when a renewal campaign "fails" we dont usually get the showrunner saying outright "yeah the show isnt getting picked up, im sorry guys." like im pretty sure that most of the time, money that's raised for a campaign like this just gets collected and spent without there ever being an official announcement from the showrunners that fans should stop campaigning.

as far as the money that was raised for the first billboard back in january, all the money that was collected is long gone now bc it was spent on the billboard, the truck, the plane flyover, and the charity donations. and like, everyone who donated to that campaign knew that's where the money was going, and they knew there was a chance that the renewal campaign wouldn't work. so even tho the money they raised is gone, the ppl who donated technically got what they paid for.

when it comes to the second billboard, i have no idea what the plan is there. as far as im aware that fundraising effort is (was??) still ongoing, so djenks saying it's over kinda throws a wrench in that process. im not actually associated w the ppl collecting money for the second billboard, nor have i personally contributed to that campaign (or to the first campaign either, ftr), so i have no input or insight as to what's gonna happen w that money going forward. if u want more concrete info abt what's going on with that money you'd wanna ask @saveofmdcrewmates

from what i can tell tho, there are a few options as to what they could do with the money: they could ignore david's message and run the billboard as planned, they could forget the billboard and donate the money to charity, or they could run the billboard but change the messaging to something else. they might even be able to give some of the money back to the people who contributed?? that might be hard tho, idk what platform they were using to collect the money and i have no idea if they're even able to like, refund people. idk if the people who donated would even want their money back, or if they would rather the money still be used for the billboard, or be repurposed for something else. like i said, i didnt donate and i have nothing to do with the ppl raising the money so it rlly doesn't matter to me at all what happens.

[castielfucks]

I wish more people realized that when someone is seeking diagnosis, it's not because we are trying to collect diseases like infinity stones. it's not to be quirky or interesting.

diagnosis is the guide to resources and community. knowing how to help yourself, being able to understand yourself, connecting with others with similar experiences so you dont feel crazy or alone, finding the right places to look for relief and support, learning about accommodations that can make your life not only easier but liveable.

and for all these reasons, people are allowed to be excited for their diagnosis, theyre allowed to lean into it and advocate for themselves with language they didn't even know existed for the way they live. it is entirely normal to be happy and relieved after finding out that not only is there a name for your experience, but also people groups communities just like you ready to talk about it and support each other.

diagnosis opens up entire worlds for people, that's a good thing. and we need to stop shaming anyone who wants/seek it.

[august--and-everything-after]

The debut album by a band I've been listening to a lot lately just vanished off spotify, and so did their second album EXCEPT for the first track. I would have assumed it was just them starting to take their music off the platform and they just didn't make an announcement or anything (maybe those albums were demonetized with the latest bullshit spotify is pulling) but why is just one track on the second album still up?

[yappacadaver]

Volleyball women should just not use the body tape. Have fun airing that footage with everyone’s pussylips dangling around. If they wanted airable match footage the event organizers should’ve ordered better uniforms

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Alright! I am now officially married and had a lovely time with my polycule at Great Wolf Lodge and am back to work. Unfortunately, that staff writer job I was interviewing for has yet to contact me so everyone pray for me as I start applying to every fast food/deli/retail job in my local area.

[prey-made-predator]

crazy to think about how people just. dont care about their cats going outside and never coming back. crazy how they accept that these animals with an almost twenty year lifespan don’t ever even break 1/5 of that estimation

[ittybittybumblebee]

Gonna send Goopy and Newguy to the Costco to get me ~products and produce~ , what would they bring back? I gave them a vague nondescriptive list like molk cheez an bacons and eggs

Giant wheel of cheese. Thats it

they roll it back and crash it through your house. Leaving a giant cheese shaped hole. Guy is all like TADAAAAA Then goopy eats it . And is shaped like a giant cheese.

New guy used the list as a tissue and thats all she could remember from what was on it before it was. Unusable .

Also they were kicked out for eating the chocolate scented lip balm out of the tube in the cosmetics section .. scurried they asses OUT with that circular boulder of la fromage

[midshipmank]

SUCCESSFULLY APPLIED FOR A NON-KAISER HEALTHCARE PLAN, FUCKING HELL

[technoxenoholic]

if adjustable, lightweight wheelchairs were also $15 at the drug store (y'know, like adjustable, lightweight canes are) i would have gotten one years ago.

unfortunately, for a lot of disabled people, no matter HOW hard we prioritize our needs over other people's feelings... we can only seriously consider the aids we actually have access to, rather than what would actually be the best fit in a world where we had support and/or money.

if youre considering using a mobility aid, youre probably thinking about getting a cane. even if it seems like youre issues arent bad enough, you should probably still consider other mobility aids. please look into the pros and cons of several different mobility aids, especially in conjunction with your specific disability/diagnosis/needs.

i got a cane at first because i thought my issues were "mild" and therefore i needed a "mild" mobility aid. but canes are moreso for stability than support. i damaged my wrist and worsened my scoliosis by deciding to use a cane without an educated opinion.

i now use forearm crutches primarily, a rollator for longer outings, and a wheelchair for worse days and longer events. dont make the same mistake as 16-year-old me. dont choose your mobility aid based on palatability, consider your needs and address your internalized ableism if need be.

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

What's the difference between a Sierra Leonean child and a Palestinian Child? I don't mean this in a combative way. I just don't understand the cognitive dissonance.

I appreciate the question, and you not asking it in a combative way. I guess I don't think there is a cognitive dissonance. I condemn the bombing (and have publicly called for a ceasefire since October). I have helped raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for aid to Gaza through the Project for Awesome, and I have personally donated tens of thousands more to support Doctors without Borders' work in Gaza. Equally importantly from my perspective, I'm regularly reaching out to my congressional and senate representatives to let them know how I feel about the horror of my country sending bombs and other weapons to Netanyahu's government.

If you're asking why I don't talk about Gaza every day, there are a few reasons, but the biggest one is that when I do, it doesn't seem to push people toward more organized or effective activism; instead, it seems to lead to people yelling at each other and dehumanizing each other and also parsing my words in ways that seem unfair to me. There's a lot of, "Why did he say this or not say that," rather than my motivating more attention or resources to the cause of a free, safe, and secure Palestine. I'm sure that's a problem with how I'm talking about this, but I've tried talking about it in a variety of ways and in a variety of places and always with the same outcome.

I would also argue that it is not your job to talk about tuberculosis every day (which killed over 100,000 people needlessly last month), nor is it your job to talk about the crisis of maternal and infant mortality in Sierra Leone (which kills over 50,000 people needlessly each year). There is more than one problem in the world, and I feel that my time and resources are best focused on making long-term, open-ended investments into issues that are not receiving much attention in the rich world. That's my personal approach to making change. It is not meant in any way to diminish your approach to making change, which I think is also legitimate and effective.

[treesbian]

did you know a single swedish krona is 0.094 cents in usd? that's less than a hundredth of a cent. my friends yousef and mona are fundraising using krona, and they set their goal to kr200,000. two hundred thousand seems like a big number, but they aren't asking for too much at all, even though they would be justified to. kr200,000 is $18,711 in USD. that's a much smaller number. i'm sure many of you know that the price to evacuate an adult from gaza to egypt is $5k usd. evacuating a child costs a little bit less, but on top of saving up to evacuate, they have to pay for their baby son's childcare items, as well as medical care for his skin infection. mona is suffering inflammation in her lungs from the cold, and will need an operation as soon as possible. she cannot sleep through the night because she coughs and it hurts her lungs. at the time of writing this, november 3rd 2024 at 5:16pm US central standard time, their campaign has kr57,027. a little more than a 1/4 of their goal. it is $5,335.16 in usd. enough to evacuate one person. they're going to need more than that. please help them however you can.

edit: 0.094 dollars. a bit more than 9 cents. i got confused by decimals and that's my bad. please help my friends 🙏🙏🙏🙏