#should we have a third kid

[getteness]

What Does it Meeeeean?

So I've seen the name Addison three tomes today. It's looking like a sign. First, I was talking to my coworker this morning about certain generations of men with feminine names (there was a male patron with the middle name Beverly), and she said to look up Mitch McConnell's name: Addison! Hmmm OK....

I'm scrolling through my e-mails and I check one of the listing emails from my realtor. The one listing on this email was on Addison Street. I didn't even know there was an Addison Street nearby! Hmmm OK OK...

Then, I'm scrolling through FaceBook, and I come across an Amazon ad. It was for a personalized stuffed rabbit with the ear embroidered with a name: fucking ADDISON! What does this mean!?!? My brain wants to jump to it being a sign from the Universe to have a third child. Add 1 son. Right?? Maybe it could be our chance to have a boy finally. I don't know. I'm crazy. A third child is such a bad idea on so many levels. But I seriously can't ignore running into this name three times in one day. Hmmmm

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Custody Battle: START

[First] Prev <--> Next

[slbao]

i just think the first time buck sees tommy carry both their kids at the same time, like one in each arm style, he immediately is thinking about having a third. personally

[avocado62524]

[n0bluev]

@fushiglow hmm….wonder who i’d draw this for all of a sudden and why… 🤔🤔

[canichangemyblogname]

Breaking my hiatus briefly to say this:

It’s really unfortunate how the “kill men” and “sterilize men” and “imprison men” discourse got turned into “men are oppressed for being men” by— well— white people, predominantly men. Because there should have been a mainstream conversation about how this rhetoric is most frequently leveraged at racially marginalized men by white men and women.

It is so, so, so transparent what these phrases really mean when they’re added to posts calling marginalized racial or ethnic groups “genetic trash.” And I’ve seen black and brown women point this out, only to be called “sex traitors” or be told they hate women and have internalized misogyny for “siding with the oppressor.” Black and brown women can’t point out “hey, arguing that men should be forcibly sterilized is eugenics and that scares me as someone who comes from a community that has been victimized by eugenics” without people coming out of the woodwork to tell them that they’re setting back feminism.

“Men should be lined up against a wall and shot.” And you think the person who’ll be targeted is your creepy uncle? Not black drag queens or Jewish doctors or immigrants? Who’s pulling the trigger? White men? Likely. They’re already trigger happy.

“Men should all be in prison as a precaution.” And you think that the prison industrial complex will target predators, who are predominately cis het white men in positions of authority— a group it notoriously fails to “hold accountable”— instead of the poor black men it currently targets? We have done little to dismantle a system that is designed to imprison black men and women for their labor.

“Men should be forced to get sterilized as a precaution against unwanted pregnancy.” And you think that the men who will be forcibly targeted are— who?— Republican politicians? Not the men who have faced forced sterilization for the furtherance of white supremacy? You think such a campaign won’t disproportionately— or even exclusively— target black and brown men? You think they won’t be targeting gay men? You think that black women agree with you? You think their biggest fear is an unwanted pregnancy rather than the fact they don’t have the privilege of safely and healthily giving birth to their wanted babies because the medical system kills black mothers?

None of y’all people treat white men in positions of authority with the same rancid energy as black and brown women who disagree with you. I see y’all out here retweeting Matt Walsh or quoting Jordan Peterson with quotes like, “thank you 🙏. so refreshing to see men who understand real women’s issues and the differences between men and women!” But the moment a black feminist breathes in criticism of a pro-ethnic cleansing post, you perfectly demonstrate why white people should not be involved in “slur reclamation” discourse.

[cosmogyros]

.

[swallowtail-ageha]

Silvana de mari try to not be creepy in your writing about female babies challenge (impossible)

[ruhrohcantthinkofagoodusername]

Being a Scooby-Doo fan and/or DC fan gets harder and harder everyday. This merger was specifically designed to make my life worse.

I can’t believe there is numerous projects that they aren’t going to release, that they are just going to keep shelved. Art that people put their time and energy and passion into that is going to be lost for years, maybe decades.

[itwoodbeprefect]

just had the experience of succesfully sounding out แว่นกันแดด in my head, recognizing those sounds ("waen kan daet") as something i'd seen in transliterated script, confidently going "zonnebril!", and then seeing it translated as sunglasses and going wait?? that was wrong?? for a whole two seconds before remembering that no, those words actually do all fit into the same mold, i was just pouring a different language into it by accident

[liquidstar]

after a break i finally got back to drawing oc batches :) i have 2/8 for my next set done... yaaaaayyy

[todayisafridaynight]

#i genuinely do think he's naturally one of the cutest dudes on earth he just has a face like that yk#was very funny watching kinpika and seeing him play this serious character and He Did An EPIC Job Dont Get It Twisted but still...#what are you doing here... you should be off somewhere being silly...

FUNNIEST POSSIBLE TAGS BECAUSE AT THE TIME I WAS STARTING THE FIRST EPISODE OF THE TRAVEL NURSE. AND. PLEASE WITNESS MY JOURNEY

I've redacted things so as to not spoil ENTIRELY just in case but. Literally Arakawa Nurse AU TO ME I'm SORRY it's how you start off thinking he's just gonna be this cute silly old man but As It Turns Out he's kind of a sicko [affectionate] with an incredibly strong morals... not TOO much of a sicko just enough to be chilling... and no one gets what the fuck he's trying to do up until he explains it and then it's like Oh Okay You're Insane... But It Worked Out So I Guess It's All Good... And also tell me this is not an Arakawa And Ichiban Type Interaction...

Perfect role for Nakai I sweaaar 'cause he gets to be cute And serious And a weirdo And--

Also just fun because I've mentioned how Tsutsumi would want to be a lumberjack if he could switch jobs on a whim like in Y:LAD, but Nakai said he'd want to be a doctor so he could help people more tangibly than he can as an actor... it's like that bit in The Deer King when Van chops wood yk it just makes me smile...

So anyway... first show I'll be subbing myself since I'm very much hooked and the only option right now is to machine-translate subs to English...

ALL OF THAT ASIIIIIDE very very very excited for the Ikumi fic :]]]]]] WHICHEVER COMES FIRST, THAT OR MY NEXT ASK... SEE YOU THEN...

CRYINNGGGG HES PERFECT..... ALSO WEEPING AT THE DR KANZAKI BIT WHY IS HE LITERALLY JUST

ABSOLUTELY EXCITED to see this if you share the subs..... im making grabby hands........

[gabbysdawsons]

🎞️ + mason

oh so many so many. . .

I actually seriously considered saying 2100° (2x01 of Lone Star) but I ended up finding one I like even more and that's 9-1-1, what's your grievance? (4x04 of 9-1-1)

and this is my favourite for so many reasons. the main one being- it's when the Buckley parents first show up.

that and the fact that it is the horrible end to a truly horrible week.

but yeah, it's my favourite for him because I just get to unpack the whole complicated mess that is the Buckley family, and it really gets into some of his problems with Buck.

which for me is just. fun.

send me 🎞️ + an oc and i’ll tell you my favourite episode / movie for them and why. 

[augustslaundry]

but snow :(

[fingertipsmp3]

Sometimes I really need to keep my mouth shut

[mostly-imagines]

Careless Accidents

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you get hurt and jason’s pissed

warnings: reader’s wrist is accidentally sprained from being grabbed to hard

You could hear scuttling from somewhere else in the garden, an estate more than sizable enough than the game afoot.

You were under the distinct impression though that the bats and birds are playing with you similar to how they would a child. Slower, weaker, and less experienced than the big kids. You weren't complaining though. Because, frankly, it was stressful. They tend to operate more like they’re in a warzone than a game, you felt like you were about to be sniped out at any second.

Rightfully so, apparently, seeing how silently Stephanie had crept up on you.

“Hey,” Stephanie hissed, ignoring the way you jumped. “We’re doing alright for ourselves,” she said smugly. 

“Yeah,” you’d nodded, like you agreed with her more than you probably did. 

“Okay listen, I think the flag—” what flag? “—is by the fountain so, I think because there’s three of us and two of them, we should bait-and-switch.”

“We’re on teams?” you asked, no longer completely sure you know what you’re playing. 

“We are now!” she smiled, starting to run. “I’ll bait!”

She stopped briefly in her tracks and turned back to you hissing, “Don’t trust Cass,” before scurrying away.

Rather than sit around and wait there for…something?...to happen, you jumped up darting in the opposite direction with little to no indication whether this is a good move.

What you didn’t see is Cass rapidly approaching from your rear. 

What you also didn’t see was Dick crouched down in a row of shrubbery, which gave him the perfect opportunity to snatch your arm up and yank you down with him. You’d mewled a bit as your wrist made contact harshly with the grass, immediately buckling under you.

Cass was keen to your pain immediately, slowing her sprint to a stroll as she observed you.

“Are you okay?” she signs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” 

The response was instinctual and you didn’t actually have time to register whether or not you were okay by the time you gave it. 

You pushed up on your elbows, trying to figure out whether Dick is even on your team, but the way the others approached had you halting consideration. They’re savvy to the situation at a speed in which you can only attribute to their vigilantism, looking at you with concern. 

“You good?” Tim asked, approaching languidly.

“That looked like it hurt,” Cass commented, crouching down next to you to see your wrist better.

Dick shook his head, “No, she’s okay.” He turned to you, prodding, “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m, um…” you winced, looking at your wrist. “It hurts a little.”

Cass examined it closely, tilting it gently to the side. “It might be sprained.”

Dick paled. 

“No.”

Tim pointed a thumb back towards the manor, “We can get it wrapped upstairs.”

“No.”

You were only then able to clock the barely contained grin on Stephanie’s face, begging to break.  

“Ooooh. He’s gonna kill you.”

Cass had then kindly offered to take you inside and wrap it up for you, which you accepted, unexpecting of the plus-one of Dick trailing behind you like a guilty puppy all the while.

“You know I didn’t mean to grab you that hard right? I—” 

Cass laughs quietly as she wraps the bandage around your wrist, amused by Dick’s now-third explanation/apology for the incident. 

“I know, Dick,” you say, trying to appease him. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells you genuinely, but you can tell there’s more there that he isn’t verbalizing.

You nod, “I know, Dick. It’s okay. It was just an accident.”

Cass pins the wrapping in place securely and with a smile, signs to you that she’s all done. 

You rotate your arm a bit, testing your movement under the wrap. As Cass leaves with the first aid kit, Dick remains sat at your side, leg thumping up and down.

He takes a deep breath, “What if…what if you avoid him until it heals?”

“Dick.”

He takes your uninjured hand in his with urgency in his eyes, 

He looks down at your jointed hands before loosening his already mild grip significantly.

“Are you going to tell him?” he asks, looking like he’s bracing for bad news.

You shake your head sympathetically, “No. I can’t guarantee you that he won’t find out, but I won’t tell him.”

Dick takes a deep breath, looking at the ground with intense focus. “Okay. Okay.” He stands, “I need to go.”

You watch in amused bewilderment as he staggers out the door, looking around frantically. 

Within the next few minutes, he creates and enacts his plan A. He walks into the living room, sitting down next to a very disinterested Tim, eyes forward and serious.

“I’ll give you two grand right now if you tell him it was you.”

Tim barks out, “Absolutely not.” He looks at his brother, still laughing. “No fucking way.”

Dick breaks the serious facade immediately, looking at him. “Five.”

A deadpan from Tim. 

“You don’t have five thousand dollars.”

Dick throws his head back, back thudding against the couch. “Dude, please! He’ll kill me!”

Tim scoffs, “He’d kill me!”

Dick huffs, “No, it’s different for me! Do you have any idea how many times he told me not to do that?” 

“Well then it sounds like you fucked up,” Tim sneers.

“Oh my God.”

He takes off again, combing through different rooms in the house with hope of finding a quick but effective hiding place for, say, the next twenty years?

He bursts through the study, unwittingly interrupting Bruce and Alfred having a discussion over tea.

The latter sits up with a tense brow, “Master Dick?”

The former turns around in his seat, “What’s the matter?”

Dick struggles for a second before confessing, “I accidentally sprained someone's wrist.” 

Bruce scans his face slowly, nodding. “Alright…you’ll have to take responsibility for their patrol duties—”

Dick cuts him off with a sharp breath, “Said person doesn’t have any patrol duties to be affected...”

Bruce processes for a moment before shaking his head.

“I can’t help you.”

Dick’s panic takes over again, prompting him to continue his scurry through the room, towards the other door.

Alfred interrupts his process with a very logical argument, “You don’t think running away will make this worse, Master Dick?”

“I—I don’t know!” Dick whines, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t know what to do!”

Bruce purses his lips, gesturing, “Dick, when you make a mistake…you have to submit to the consequences, you know that.”

Dick gapes, “This is not a normal consequence!”

Meanwhile, you’ve busied yourself with fiddling with the knick knacks and mementos lining the shelves of Jason’s childhood bedroom. 

You’re admiring a picture of him and Alfred from when he was young as the door creaks open behind you. 

“Sweetheart?” Your boyfriend calls out, head barely poked in through the crack.

“Hey, Jay,” you smile, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.

He enters fully, covered in motor oil and grease, and smiles his sweet, easy smile when he sees you. 

Moving onto the next trinket on the shelf, you pick up a stuffed animal placed intentionally at the front. Your gaze finds the mirror, watching his reflection as he pulls the stained shirt off his back. 

You smile to yourself, noticing the way his back muscles flex as he adjusts. “How’s the bike?”

“Better than it was this morning,” he sighs. “Where’ve you been?”

He turns around to look at you, taking easy steps towards you. 

You return the toy elephant to its place, moving to face him. “Uh, we were outside, playing…at least three separate games at once.”

The second you’re in proximity, your hands join like it’s second nature. 

He nods, all too familiar with the family’s unique methods of gamefair.

“Did th—” He looks down at your intertwined hands, brow furrowing as soon as he spots the bandage wrapped around your wrist. “What happened?”

You glance down, shrugging. “Overexerted myself playing tag.”

He looks at you skeptically, but says nothing about it.

He turns your hand over gently, asking, “Is it sprained?”

You nod, relaxed. “Yeah. Cass said it’s mild.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No,” you say, sweeping his hair back with your other hand. “Barely hurt then.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look satisfied with the conversation.

Regardless, he turns away again, shuffling through a drawer for a clean shirt. 

“You, uh, you wanna stay for dinner tonight?” he asks, pulling his arms through, his head following. 

“Yeah,” you say gaily. “Alfred said he’s making his ‘special spaghetti’, apparently it’s a household favorite?”

He wavers, halfway to between decisions. “Yeah…”

He huffs quietly, turning back to face you fully. “Can I see it?”

You nod, happy to ease his mind. 

You start to unwrap the bandaging, him doing half the work for you. The work is done silently until your wrist is exposed, revealing your bruised skin.

You both see it at the same time—the hand-shaped bruise wrapped around your wrist.

You’re both quiet for a second—him putting pieces together and you waiting for the shoe to drop.

He takes off suddenly, clearly having come to a likely very accurate conclusion about what had happened.

“Fucking idiot—”

You try for his hand but he’s out of reach before you can grab it.

“I’ll be right back,” he grumbles behind him.

��Jason—” you sigh, “At least help me wrap it back up first.”

He hesitates, halfway to the door, ultimately returning to you in defeat. He takes your forearm gently, scanning it over again before beginning to wrap it.

You watch his face closely, noting the clear vexation. “It was just an accident,” you tell him. 

He scoffs, “It better have been.”

You drop your shoulders and lull your head to the side. “Jason. I’m not made of glass, you can’t expect other people to act like it.”

“I don’t. I expect him to mind his own strength, and if he can’t do that, he needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.”

You sigh, “Just don’t do anything harsh. Please. I think he’s worried you’re gonna punch him.”

“He should be,” he says shortly. He finishes off the wrapping, pinning it in place firmly. 

You grab onto his forearm before he can pull away, “You’re not going to. Right?”

He doesn’t answer so you try to make his gaze meet yours, “Right?”

His eyes roll, “Yeah, fine.”

You smile, holding his face. “I love you.”

He huffs as though he’s inconvenienced, but confesses the obvious truth nonetheless. “I love you.”

He looks you in the eye, face serious. “You promise me it doesn’t hurt?”

“I promise,” you nod, brushing your fingers against his palm.

“Dick!”

The angry voice bellows through the tall halls of the manor, heavy footsteps thudding.

He stomps into the living room, Tim, Cass, and Stephanie watching the entryway with wide eyes. 

“Where is he?”

Unwitting shoulders shrug and heads shake. Truthfully, at that. Dick, smartly, did not tell anyone where he was hiding. 

Jason scans the trios faces, looking for any sign of apprehension.

He clocks the grin shamelessly plastered across his sister's face quickly. “Stephanie?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “But let me know when you find him, I wanna see—”

But Jason’s moving onto the next room before she can get the last words out.

He enters the dining room, looking right to left before finding his target, halfway to stuffing himself behind the fine china cabinet in the corner.

There’s a brief, tense moment in between where the pair realize what they’re seeing and when Dick sets off in a sprint towards the kitchen, Jason quick on his tail. 

“Really? Really?” Jason shouts. 

“It was an accident! It was a fucking—” 

He narrowly dodges a swipe from Jason, then ducking before a ladle could make contact with his head.

“Are you stupid? Are you the dumbest motherf—”

Dick rounds the kitchen island as fast as possible, Jason testing him on the other side.

Dick takes a breath, “Dude, it’s fine now, it’s not that big of a—”

Jason recoils, “‘It’s not a big deal’? Come here. Let me sprain your wrist, asshole!”

He circles the counter quicker than the elder boy can think to move away and lunges at him. 

Dick throws his hands up in front of him, “Wait, wait, wait! Truce! Truce! Truce?”

Jason drops his shoulders, leveling his older brother with a look. “You can’t call a truce if you’re the only one who did anything wrong.”

“I…” It doesn’t take him long to piece together that his defense makes no sense, so he resorts to his last option. 

“Please?” Dick asks, nothing short of imploring. 

Jason relents—slightly—upon hearing his brother's tone, but still finds it in him to shove him, though not nearly as hard as he’d been planning to. 

“I told you a hundred fucking times not to grab her so hard—” 

Dick nods heavily, waving a hand. “I know, I know—”

“Clearly you fucking don’t!” Jason shouts. He huffs, running a hand over his face. “You sprained her wrist. You’ve been doing this vigilante shit for fifteen years, how do you still not fucking know how to control your own strength?”

Dick grimaces, “I do! I do, I just screwed up, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t—” Jason narrowly holds back a scowl, “Did you apologize to her?”

 “Yeah, of course I did!”

For a split second, Jason looks ready to keep arguing before purposefully dropping the anger from his body. 

The resulting relief almost drowns Dick.

It only lasts a moment though, before Jason looks at him again, sneering, “Idiot,” before pushing him once more. 

“Jason.”

Your voice has Jason dropping all turbulence in an instant. He and Dick both whip their heads towards the door, equally unexpecting of the interruption. 

You tilt your head at your boyfriend with a knowing but disappointed stare.

He looks back at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, lips parted.

“I didn’t hit him.”

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