because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
46K notes
·
View notes
So I bought a speed weaving loom
I wasn’t planning on doing that at all but impulsive thoughts won and yeah
I do recommend it
I got this one, it’s pretty good quality especially considering it’s price
But yeah, it’s efficient and effective. Comes with everything but scissors and wax
Unfortunately, I don’t think it would work well for someone with a hand related disability (it might be difficult to use if you have arthritis or something like it) just to be honest on that point though
0 notes
Danny decides to open a haunted house for Halloween-in Gotham. For kicks. He reserves the opening night for the Bats and only the Bats. The Bats do not have a choice in this.
They all wake up in the haunted house.
Their rogues, who had big plans, also wake up in the haunted house-but they don't get the toned down spooky version Danny's working on for potential customers that he's doing a test-run with via Bat testers.
No, the Rogues are locked in the basement with the ghosts of everyone they've killed.
Danny's got Tucker running the cameras, Sam helping coordinate the Ghosts, and Danny himself is running the actual spooky bits.
In theory, it's the perfect haunted house.
The best way to test it though, he feels, is against heroes that face scary things every day.
So.
Red Hood walking down a hallway, sees feet dangling from the ceiling. But there's a convenient beam blocking their view, so he strides up just as the feet vanish-and that's a solid wooden ceiling.
There's a note with a smiley face.
"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"
Robin sees a shadow, and he chases it. And chases it. And chases it. And foolishly he somehow manages to let it lead him to a dead end-only when he turns around, the shadow is in the door.
And it's just a being made of pure shadow, with elongated limbs, breathing with a horrible wet rasp as it stares down at him.
Then it disappears.
In it's place, there's a note.
"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"
Red Robin hears Batman call out for him to look something over, so he goes into the room.
Batman isn't there.
Batman's voice whispers in his ear from behind.
"Never thought you'd fall for that~"
The door slams shut.
Red Robin turns to open it, but it won't open. Not even if he picks the lock.
The floor creaks, and when he turns around he sees Batman standing right there-only for him to dissolve piece by piece.
In the puddle of weird green goo, there's a note.
"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"
Bruce is in what looks like a child's room.
The temperature drops, and he braces for a supernatural event, because this is clearly what's going on.
The air stands still-and every single toy's head snaps to look at him.
They open their mouths and scream, green goo gargling up and spilling out of their lips.
The lights cut out, then they come back on; and the toys are all arranged around him in a peculiar pattern.
There's a note at his feet.
His lips quirk up against his will.
"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"
Nightwing knows he's being fucked with.
He knows it.
He recognizes the room he's in-it was in the pamphlet for the new haunted house opening in Gotham. He'd really wanted to go, actually, but he was kinda sad he didn't have anyone with him.
He wanted it to be a family outing.
But from what it looks like, this is probably a test run. No ones emergency beacons have gone off, and there's only swearing in the comms cut through with mild amusement on Bruce's part.
Ugh, he doesn't want spoilers! He wants to go through it for the first time with everyone else!
"Hey, um, I was actually planning to come here with my family! I don't really want to be spoiled on anything, so can I skip this? And can I have anyone you haven't tested it on skip it too? Cuz they're probably friends or family and I want to be on the same knowledge level of what to expect."
The air itself seems to pause.
"Ah, shit, I'm sorry man. I didn't even think of that; I'll pull Spoiler and Signal before we start their runs."
Nightwing turns towards the intercom and waves cheerfully.
"I mean, we'd definitely be down to walk through the house tonight, but I want to do it in a group so we can laugh at each other."
"Oh, for sure, I just got too caught up in the 'creepy' part of the haunted house. The exit is hidden in the wall to your left, just pick up the rotary phone and it should pop out."
"Alright, I'll be waiting for them at the front!"
@simplestoryteller
2K notes
·
View notes
the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.
sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.
you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.
it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.
but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.
they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.
they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.
barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.
and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.
but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.
they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!
this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.
28K notes
·
View notes