#types of open access

[deadchannelradio]

my fanfiction abortion morgue is gaining another jayroy victim that is not long enough to clean up for ao3. this was going to be a very long and meandering noodle about in the river that is jason's mental health and trauma and relationships of all types and healing and the asexual/aromantic spectrum (not that that's the verbage jason would use or language hes even aware of) and low sex drives all that beautiful muck and mire but i have not put a single word on it in well over a year now. so i'm letting her go. be free little fish.

-

They’re better now, anyways, better than they ever were before. Jason had a crisis a few months back, stopping himself from reaching reflexively for his phone to give Dick a call about- nothing important. And then he had realized that he had reflexively gone to call Dick about nothing important, and had gone and stared out the window for 15 minutes, trying to work himself into a different, less horrifying conclusion than the one gathering in his brain like an avalanche. Roy had come home in the middle of it, taken one look at his face and dropped his bag on the floor with a thunk.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Who died?”

“I like him,” Jason said, somewhere between incredulous and horrified. “That cunt, that motherfucker- he made me actually like him-,”

“Who?”

“Dick!” Jason had shouted. “That piece of shit, I want to spend time with him, hours out of my actual human life that I can’t get back-,”

Roy had proceeded to laugh in his face for a solid ten minutes, positively gleeful about Jason’s horrible emotional crisis. “He does that to you, man,” he said once they’d settled in, still chuckling as he cracked open a can of soda, posted up on their couch with Ethiopian takeout in his lap. “One minute you’re sitting there thinking oh my god, this guy, he’s so loud and annoying-,”

“And he never fuckin’ stops moving,” Jason groaned from his spot laying on the floor below him. “His body or his mouth. And he chews loud, he’s obnoxious on purpose, and he’s a model and dated Kory but half the time he dresses like something a goodwill dumpster threw up-,”

“Have you seen his new shoes?” Roy asked. “I dress like dogshit, man, but those things-,”

“Wally got them for him,” Jason said, and then immediately slapped his hands over his face, horrified that he knew that. Roy laughed again. “He’s constantly in your fuckin’ business! Constantly! Last time I saw him he knew the social security numbers of the baristas in the coffee shop I’d been going to-,”

“He gets enabled,” Roy muttered, shoveling injera into his mouth.

“He gets enabled!” Jason said. “Everyone enables him! I enable him! And god, his fucking- puns, man, his quips, we’re all guilty of it but this is a fight, not comedy hour, and even if it was you’d get booed off the stage-,”

“He texted me what he said to Mr. Freeze two weeks ago and I wanted to eat my phone,” Roy said. “It’s amazing no villains kill themselves after he hands their asses to them, I would be humiliated.”

“He sucks!” Jason snapped. 

“He sucks,” Roy agreed. “And then you look around one day at your life-,”

“And you go oh shit, I think this motherfucker’s alright!” Jason mimed hitting himself in the face with Roy’s abandoned house slipper. “Fuck! What’s fucking wrong with me?”

Roy laughed at him, again. “Dick Grayson Derangement Syndrome gets us all in the end,” he said. Jason curled a hand around his bare ankle, and Roy looked down to smile at him, the smallest touch making his whole face bloom open like a rose. Jason had to look away from it, wanting to say: stop. No. You know I’m not enough. You know I’m not like you. You know I can’t give you enough.

He’s been wanting to say that a lot, these days. Toss Roy off the sinking ship with a lifeboat before he has to wake up one day, years on, and realize he’s wasted years with Jason, who can’t love that loud.

He wanted to call Dick about it, which was another horrible realization. Hi big bird, I’m having boy problems. Dick would probably tell him that it means more that Jason has to try, that wanting to try for it is selfless, makes it more significant, which is the kind of thinking that lands a motherfucker in bed with Barbara Gordon, who is enough like Jason to warrant a comparison, but not enough to call her and ask what he should do. Babs loves like the Bolton Strid, and sometimes Jason isn’t sure he loves at all. Not like that.

Jason isn’t nearly as selfless as Dick is convinced he is, not deep down. Because he doesn’t want to let Roy go at all.

It’s late, well into the witching hours, and they’re laying in bed in what was formerly Roy’s bedroom but now holds them both, blinds cracked to let the streetlights through. Jason doesn’t like the dark. Roy’s threatening to buy an eyemask. Jason thinks it’s stupid to blind yourself to potential attackers. Neither of them have brought up going back to sleeping separately. Roy’s nose is pressed between Jason’s shoulder blades, breath humid through his shirt. Not asleep yet, but close. Jason’s books are proliferating on Roy’s shelves, his boxers in Roy’s laundry basket, garrotte wires coiled next to bow strings on the desk that has framed photos, past-Jason’s mouth a little white slash in the bar of orange streetlamp.

Something is clawing at the inside of Jason’s chest, scrabbling like a wild little animal. Trying to dig its way through his spine, into Roy. It hurts.

He shifts, turns over, pushes Roy over onto his back and rolls on top of him, propped up on his elbows to look down at him. Roy grunts, half-awake and confused, but takes his weight. He blinks blearily up at Jason, a crease between his eyebrows- Jason must look intense right now. “Jaybird?” he starts, quiet.

Jason knows this feeling- as all-consuming as it is- is fleeting. It’ll be gone in the morning, and he’ll forget it was ever here. He won’t be able to recall its bite until it comes back around again, like Halley’s comet. He should say something now, while he has it. While he feels it. So Roy can know it’s real. He just doesn’t know how to describe it.

“Jase,” Roy says, sounding more concerned, “Jason, what’s-,”

“Something in here,” Jason interrupts, putting a hand on his own chest, a thudding sound of muscle on muscle, “Wants to eat you.” God, he feels dumb. He’s not good at this, he sounds so much better in his head. His words come out of his mouth sour and curdled and stupid, there’s a reason he doesn’t try to talk about this shit-

Roy lights up, slow at first, then all at once, his face creasing up in his smile like old paper, following familiar folds. Jason feels his toes curl next to his calves, his feet pointing and flexing in excitement. Jason wishes he could make himself smile back, anything other than the dead-eyed concentration he knows he’s wearing right now, but the weight in his ribs is too real and too wild for that- if his teeth come out this might get literal. He wants to crack open Roy’s sternum with his bare hands, climb in like a contortionist and slam it shut behind him.

“Really?” Roy asks, small and soft and giddy. Jason nods, serious. Roy’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, smiling so wide his nose is wrinkling up, little inky lines in the artificial twilight. “Cool,” he says. 

Jason’s hands spasm in the sheets next to Roy’s head. “Roy,” he starts, “Can I-,” stops. Doesn’t know what he wants. Maybe just to look at him until the sun comes up, just to watch the light turn his freckles from a smear in the dim to pinprick-sized marigolds. Maybe to go to sleep on him like this, the thunder of his heart under Jason’s cheek. Maybe he wants everything. Maybe he wants to be the greediest son of a bitch in Gotham. 

“You can do anything,” Roy promises, and the sincerity in his voice makes the thing chewing on Jason’s lungs shake. “Anything you want. I’ll let you do everything.”

Jason drops his head against Roy’s chest with a grunt like he’s just been punched, unable to choke it back. He pushes himself up- Roy makes a quiet, sad noise, grabbing for him- and fumbles the bedside lamp on. He wants to see everything. Roy’s pupils are huge, even in the light he’s flinching from, irises that strange half-color, too dark for blue or green and too flat for hazel and too light to be brown. His cowlick’s sending his hair in every direction at the left temple, and he’s still smiling at Jason, like he can’t help it. Jason doesn’t know what to do, now that he’s here. A restaurant with an infinite menu. What he wants is strange, probably. Not how normal people want things, not what they want. Jason is off-putting, sometimes on purpose, frequently not, and he doesn’t know how this will come across. But Roy said he could have anything. Whatever he wanted. Giving up all of himself, for nothing. For free. 

Jason should take it. Roy will stop him, if he needs it. He puts his mouth on the cowlick, not a kiss, tucks his nose into Roy’s hair and breathes in deep. The nothing-smell of hair that’s not clean but not dirty. Roy’s hands are pressing into his lats, his legs spreading and crossing behind Jason’s thighs, holding him there. Jason curls both his hands around Roy’s skull, presses gently, cradling his head- all of Roy is in there, somehow, and he needs to be careful with it. His skull feels too small to hold something so important, too fragile. 

Jason drags his thumbs over his eyebrows, presses a thumbnail into the scar bisecting the left one- string snap, Roy told him, nearly took that eye out. Roy’s looking up at him still, and they’re close enough that Jason could count his eyelashes, if he wanted. He runs his fingers over Roy’s ears, feeling the cartilage, gently pinches the flesh of his earlobe, over the hole where he used to have gauges. He moves down to Roy’s neck, puts his hands around his throat, doesn’t squeeze. He feels it when Roy’s breath hitches. Roy shuts his eyes, swallows, his Adam's apple moving under Jason’s palms. 

Jason bites him where his neck meets his shoulder, hard. He thinks about being normal, trying to make it a hickey- but Roy jerks hard beneath him with a strangled noise and that thing in Jason’s chest makes him hold that position until Roy stops moving, until the bolt of his jaw aches. He lets go, spit shining around the deep purple indents in Roy’s skin. Roy lets out a shaking breath, eyes still shut.

Roy already knows he’s an inscrutable freak, Jason decides. He’s going to do everything he’s ever looked at Roy and thought about doing, everything he thought might be weird that he’s ever refrained from. Roy won’t run.

If he does, well. Jason will chase him. Roy is the one who said he was locking Jason down, said nobody in or out. He can’t get too mad if Jason takes him up on it.

He presses his nose near Roy’s armpit. The sharp, live smell of his sweat in Jason’s lungs, muted by whatever axe deodorant he uses that always makes Jason think of a cold wet morning. He rubs his mouth over Roy’s deltoid, teeth dragging. Jason pushes up and kneels with his thighs on either side of Roy’s torso, picks up an arm, runs his hands over Roy’s bicep, digs his thumbs into his elbow. Puts Roy’s thumb in his mouth, tastes skin and salt, bites the draw calluses on his fingers, gentle. Does the other arm too, to keep it even. Roy’s breathing slow and even, looking at Jason again as he shoves his mouth into Roy’s wrist until he can feel the pulse against his lower lip. Roy’s trying to caress his face with that hand, can’t quite manage more than a brush of his fingertips against Jason’s ear. 

Jason knows what he should say here. What he hasn’t been saying, because he knows it’s not the same as how Roy will say it, thinking that it will somehow be a lie because the meaning’s different. But it’s words, which are only stories. There is nothing in a story that is a lie, and no analysis that is wrong, with supporting evidence. Which Jason has, which Jason has always had. Roy at his right shoulder. Never wanting anyone else at his back. Saying to Dick: if there wasn’t Roy, there wouldn’t be anybody. The way they keep finding each other at the lowest of lows, facedown in bottles or looking down barrels of guns to see if they can spot the bullet. Standing there feeling stupid in the holes they’ve dug, pickaxes in hand, before turning and finding the other, just as deep as they are. Saying: gimme a boost and I’ll give you a hand.

Even if he doesn’t mean it in the same way, he means it. I want you, I want you, I want you. The inflection changes the meaning, but only by the barest degrees. 

“I love you,” Jason says, and he’s not lying, because he means them, even if it’s not always how he thinks he should.

[foulfeast]

Ohhhh i now remember why i got shy about talking abt ocs

24/7 fear that someone will tell me my ideas are cliche/stupid/bad in some other and it will hurt more bc these are my own creations and not just fun and play

[theuncannybookdragon]

The Wheel of Time be like-

Also from now on I am only referring to saidin as cock and balls sorcery

[sluckythewizard]

The Altered Beast[FULL SUITE] COULD be arthur bennett or adjacent to whatever hes got going on in tha finale. if ur brave enough. IF UR BRAVE ENOUGH [tldr its just about Things eating Things and becoming New Terrible Things. it also fucking jams]

[lagaans]

watch free online is basically akin to an essential vitamin in ones media diet

[musical-chick-13]

.............Well.

[plumadesatada]

All hail ask culture, may she come back from near-death!! How has your day been so far? Gimme one bitching point and one nice thing!

babe!!! yes YES help me with my crusade!

gonna answer this about yesterday (bc today I'm freshly woken up)

bitching point: so. I work in IT. my actual job description is testing and being a help desk for NEW systems being implemented. pay attention to that "new".... because one else at my company does! they think I'm google! "hey so X program closed on me without saving how can I recover what I was working on?" "I need new lines on this excel table can you come over and insert some" (I wish I was joking) "ummmm outlook isn't showing me my calendar" (this one happens once a week. to the same person). I feel like goddamned sisyphus.

one nice thing: I TOOK MOM TO THE THEATER LAST NIGHT FOR HER BIRTHDAY. There was a production of Cyrano and it. was. bloody FANTASTIC. mom fell asleep in the intermission and I bullied her for it ("claims to love theater" etc) after I woke her up and the second bit resumed. afterwards we went out for beer and ummmm what do you call them in English? calamari rings, fried. it was a GOOD night

[mpc-unofficial]

Oh, pelipper mail’s been turned off. Thank god. I— urgh…

I guess I’m back now? I… I don’t really know. I’m just…

I’m… I’m fine? I think? Just aching a little. It… could have been a lot worse I suppose, I thought I was going to die.

…or maybe I’m already dead and this is all a dream or something.

Wait, you’re awake?

Shit.

Kalani, you’re alive, I promise. I’ve checked your vitals and you’re currently stable. Hold on for a bit, I’ll be coming over there right now ok? Meetings can be so annoying at times.

Kalani?

Wait, shit, did they pass out again?

[crowcryptid]

90% of hacking is scanning to see if someone misconfigured their security settings or if they’re using out of date software

9% is social engineering

And the last 1% is actually trying to find an exploit and write your own code (idk how to do this part yet)

[trickstersaint]

I won't lie, I have little to no interest in poetry most of the time, but stumbling across your work via a friends blog has perhaps changed that. Especially your poems about being trans/nonbinary, there's something almost earthshattering about feeling recognized when I've been struggling time and again to answer questions of what being trans feels like to friends and family. I feel like I've only properly begun my journey of self-discovery, but already I find immense comfort in your work 💜

as someone who loves poetry very dearly i think it's SO important to acknowledge that it's not an art form that speaks to everybody, OR, for that matter, an art form that is very accessible when you aren't actively interested in or haven't been taught to work with it. However. the thing about poetry is that it's an incredibly broad term for a lot of art in a lot of different forms, and i'm a huge believer in finding the right poetry for someone, rather than forcing "classic" or popular poetry onto people and trying to get it to stick. i'm so honored to be your little gateway into possibly liking poetry and i hope you can find more that hit for you like mine do :)

the thing about writing poetry to me is that it's SO deeply cathartic. learning to express these things and putting them onto (metaphorical) paper is so healing and revealing and it's so fantastic to be able to share it with people. the reason i love it so much is because it's such an important form of expression to me, and then it can go out into the world and help to express some things for other people too. i'm really happy that you're finding yourself in little ways as you go along your journey: you're doing great, and you'll only discover more about yourself as you go. sending my heart and soul with you <3

to maybe get you a little interested in poetry! throw some poems at the wall and see if they stick! i am going to toss some poem recommendations over to you for your (possible) reading pleasure.

gravity by maura o'connor (sorry for the mommy blog link. it's the only place it's really available online) kind of ripped out my heart the first time i read it. it was a great moment of self-recognition for me: not in being trans, but in being a person with a current of gentleness under my skin that i worry other people can't see, a person clinging to love as if it were an answer, someone talking to god in the coffin my room has become... it's an incredibly personal poem, for me, which is always a funny thing to say when someone else wrote it, but that's the beauty of it, right? that moment of resonance. love it when poems do that.

keaton st. james (@boykeats) is a poet that i always recommend: if you're looking for trans poets, he's one of my favorites. really stylistically cool poems with a great rhythm to them. luminescence is a good one by him and rural boys watch the apocalypse will always be a favorite of mine.

i also love dante émile (@orpheuslament) forever and ever their work is so great. the second coming... oh gosh. y'know

i will ALWAYS recommend finding trans poets for a little bit of that visceral feeling of being Seen. it hits every time. sending love best of luck to you and i hope you have a great day :)

[ace-with--a-mace]

I HATE DISCUSSION POST ASSIGNMENTS

[i-am-a-fish]

Sex Ed Time

ok I'm gonna tell you about some things that might happen if you are transitioning m->f. this is not a comprehensive list just my own experience, be sure to do your own research I just really wanted to voice how this affects me because I think open discussion about this type of stuff is just more helpful for everyone rather than keeping it private

BOOBS HURT WHEN THEY GROW

your sex drive (libido) will probably go down a lot

facial hair is very hard to get rid of

my go-to gender affirming clothing is high-waisted jeans. I suggest going to a goodwill or some sort of cheap store that lets you try on clothes to figure out what you like

muscle mass will go down, fat will be redistributed

boobs do all sorts of crazy stuff when you run / exercise

overtime your skin will get softer, you also might smell nicer, and I've been told it can thin body hair but I don't really see it all that much 🤷

your brain chemistry can change when you reduce testosterone and increase estrogen, there are lots of factors that contribute toward any changes to your personality, but hormones can have an impact as well. for me this is a good thing because I struggle with allowing myself to feel emotions sometimes, no matter how hard I tried I was never really able to get myself to cry. I've gotten closer to being able to cry since I started transitioning though and that makes me very happy

this is a slow process that can take several years, ultimately you're going to be in your body for several years regardless, so if this is something you want it's definitely something you should try to pursue if possible. the time will pass anyways, and it does feel nice to work towards something that can make you happier.

also this is very important, you don't need to do any sort of hormone replacement therapy in order to be trans. not everybody can access HRT, and for those who can access it, not everybody wants to take on all the changes that come with treatments. you don't have to chemically or physically change your body in any way in order to deserve respect

all right that's all I have for right now feel free to add anything in the comments, I would especially like to hear from trans men what your experiences have been, I think openly talking about these types of things can really help some people

[acadjonne]

y’all, a miracle has happened on ao3 this day

i was able to open and load the orphan_account page

i haven’t seen this thing load without a timeout error since 2015

[melancholic-fig]

they did WHAT NOW WHAT THE FFFF

We need to lay more blame for "Kids don't know how computers work" at the feet of the people responsible: Google.

Google set out about a decade ago to push their (relatively unpopular) chromebooks by supplying them below-cost to schools for students, explicitly marketing them as being easy to restrict to certain activities, and in the offing, kids have now grown up in walled gardens, on glorified tablets that are designed to monetize and restrict every movement to maximize profit for one of the biggest companies in the world.

Tech literacy didn't mysteriously vanish, it was fucking murdered for profit.

[sparklecur]

so i decided to engage in Normal Weekend Activities (poking around pyres game files while watching zombiecleo stream) and i am having lots of fun

[s-imagination]

Japandi | Living Room CC Pack |Early

Suprise, Suprise Simmers! I'm back with brand new CC pack for The Sims 4!

🌿✨ Discover the serene beauty of Japandi design in this Sims 4 living room setup, featuring 44 unique elements. This space blends Japanese minimalism and Scandinavian functionality with natural materials and a calming color palette. Highlights include a low-profile sofa with green cushions, a woven coffee table, a traditional shoji screen, and elegant wall art. The room exudes tranquility with its harmonious design and thoughtful decor. Perfect for creating a cozy and stylish home in your Sims 4 game! 🌱🪑

With this set you can create your own shelving system, open doors, closed doors, open space with doors, or closed closet, the choice is yours :) I'm continue my Japandi Collection with another room that is Living Room. In future I create more inspired Japnadi rooms so be sure to follow me on Instagram where I upload my progress on current projects.

Set contains:

Sofa

Arm chair

Loveseat

Coffee Table

End Table

Japandi poster

Single Shelf 1x1 ( Short/Medium )

Double Shelf 2x1 ( Short/Medium )

Double Shelf 2 2x1 ( Short/Medium )

Media Cabinet

Long Shelf

Short Shelf

Open Pillar ( Short/Medium/Tall )

Closed Pillar ( Short/Medium/Tall )

Closed Doors ( Short/Medium/Tall )

Open Doors Right ( Short/Medium/Tall )

Open Doors Left ( Short/Medium/ Tall )

Stereo System

CD Player

Mixer

Collection of Books ( 4 diffrent versions )

Book Organizer

Tea Pot

Ink Tray

Ceilling Lamp ( Short/Medium )

Little Weave Frame

THINGS YOU NEED TO��KNOW!

All items are Base Game compatibile

All of the textures and meshes are made by me, if you like to use them please mention me

Some of the objects are high poly so be careful

If you see any issues let me KNOW!

NOW AVAILABLE ON EARLY ACCESS!

Public realse June 27th!

You can find objects by typing "Japandi" or "S-im" in search bar in game!