Damn It - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
I hate you so much you don’t even understand the depth of it
Trapped Hero
The hero slammed into the villain’s chest so hard their breath left their lungs.
The villain didn’t have the decency to look phased as the hero scrambled away.
“You can’t keep me here.”
The villain smiled, a gentle thing, like the hero was a wild animal and they were the valiant rescuer.
Trapped in this cage, the hero felt a little wild.
They were used to cages. This wasn’t the first time. And yet, with the look on the villain’s face, with the power dampeners twined around the hero’s wrists, they were more afraid than they had ever been.
“Of course I can,” the villain said simply. “How would you stop me?”
They cast a pointed look at the hero’s wrists, and they stumbled a step back.
Something twisted in their gut.
“You have no right,” the hero began, and something shuttered in the villain’s eyes.
“You’re so innocent.”
The hero paused.
Innocent? The hero had never associated themselves with that word. Not with their childhood, not with their power, not with their job.
Try to save a city, and spill blood in the process. The only who seemed to care about the spilling of criminal blood was the hero.
Good work, the agency called it.
The hero simply wore it as guilt.
“Innocent,” the villain murmured once more. When they stepped into the hero’s space, closed any distance the hero had managed to create, the hero froze.
“I’m not innocent,” the hero spat, and it felt like a confession.
“You wear the guilt beautifully, I must admit. But you shouldn’t have to.”
The villain ran a hand along the hero’s jaw, and they jerked away.
“Don’t touch me.”
Impossibly, the villain’s eyes softened. The took a step back, watching as the hero relaxed minutely.
“I’m doing this for you.”
“If you’re doing this for me, let me out. Take these damned things off, and let me out.”
“No.”
The hero reeled, and the villain watched that, too.
The city needed them, their people needed them, and they couldn’t help if they were trapped in this tower.
Behind the villain, the door remained closed.
“Please.”
The villain blew out a slow breath.
“You’re too kind for this city.”
The hero took a step forward, hand stretching towards the window.
“That’s why it needs me,” they pleaded. “Don’t take me from it.”
The villain’s eyed them with reproach.
“Does it need you,” they said gently, “or do you need it?”
The hero scoffed.
“What difference does it make—“
“I read your file,” the villain said, and the hero stiffened.
Their childhood, the pain, the hurt, the curses and uttering of freakwrongburden that they kept oh so carefully buried was laid bare in front of them.
Of course the villain had. Of course the villain knew.
The hero swallowed, and it hurt.
“You had no right—“
“They had no right to hurt you.”
The hero stopped. Across from them, the villain was closest to anger as they had ever seen them.
Their power lashed out, and the cuffs shoved it down with all the grace of a falling building.
“Your parents,” the villain began. “Your siblings. They were awful people. If they weren’t already dead, I’d kill them for you.”
The hero shuddered. That night, those deaths, the gravestones that haunted them, tattooed on their mind in ways they knew that they could never erase.
They had been too slow then. They hadn’t been that slow ever again. They made sure of it.
“I don’t need you to—“
“You will not protect yourself, so I am doing it for you.”
The hero jerked their head.
“You call this protecting?”
The tower sat silent around them.
The villain’s jaw clenched.
“This city, your precious people,” the villain grit out. “They would destroy you, if you let them. If I let them.”
The hero took another step forward, and their power hummed, furious within their veins.
Too slow, their body whispered. Danger.
The villain smiled, and this time, it wasn’t gentle, but vicious. The hair on the back of the hero’s neck rose.
“But for you, darling? I’m going to destroy it first.”
They were out the door faster than the hero could grab them.
Even when they screamed their throat raw, scratched their nails bloody on the edges of the door, the villain did not come.
Too slow.
The city burned.
Using Ethan’s ADHD episode to raise awareness
gonna try doodling them daily as warm up 🙌🏻 let’s see if i can keep the streak going
a man satt on a couch, not knowing what he wanted to do. the man thought long and hard about this, but eventually got bored. as the man stood up from his sofa he had the idea to write something. the man decided to instantly go to his desk and begin writing
as the man satt down, he thought "what shall i write" and he came up with many good ideas, before swiftly forgeting them because he got distracted with the question of how many entities there can be in a mineceraft world (the answer is 27 648 000 000 000 000 entities if you're intested)
its been two minutes. spite has gone down to a minimum and now im feeling bad.
i will not apologize to my sibiling whos done the same thing to me and never apologized you hypocrite
So, MY DAD FUCKING GROUNDED ME FOR 2 DAYS FOR YELLING AT HIM LAST NIGHT AND NOW I’M FUCKING PISSED!!!!!!!! TO TOP IT ALL OFF, I’M 21!!!!!!!! SO I SHOULDN’T EVEN BE GETTING GROUNDED IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!!!!!!!!
Bruce smiled at her, reaching up to grab her wrists and pull her hands down, pressing a kiss to the back of one of her hands.
When the boy brought Rebecca over, he laughed, pulling away from Andie and holding his arms out to take his daughter. When he did, he swung her around, then hugged her tightly.
"I missed you, baby," he murmured into her hair.
Andie held tightly to him, kissing the side of his head as they embraced. “Thank you, for coming back. And welcome home.” She said softly, running her fingers through his hair.
The teens on the lawn gave a few catcalls, one of the boys bringing Rebecca over to them. The little girl was babbling happily, reaching her arms out. “Da! Dada!”
so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation, the goal of which was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.
i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.
i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.
and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.
so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial that so many of us once learned to rely on.
and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to
To the person who stole my glasses: I will find you.
I have contacts.
What’s the difference between Black Eyed Peas and Chickpeas?
Black Eyed Peas can sing us a song and Chickpeas can only Hummus one.
Ah, look at me. Making a backstory for a villain.
If you’ve been following me for a while now, you know that I don’t like the thought of a villain being well….a villain, for no reason. So obviously, I made one.
I kind of made this backstory/headcanon/theory thing?
……..
Basically, in her past, everyone kept comparing her to another girl, who had the same name, but different pronunciations.
She was better than her with everything, not only that, but she was a bit of a bully.
And people constantly messed up their names with who is who.
So that’s why she doesn’t like people mispronouncing her name.
I know that this won’t become canon, not even close. Because from what I understand about this show so far, is that it doesn’t have an actual story, so we probably won’t get a story from this character? (That’s probably why I’m not a big fan of this show-)
Anyways, I’m done talking my nonsense-
Apparently my neck pain has transferred to my arms, biceps area.
Condition? STRAINED MUSCLES AAAAA-