top surgery tip 1)
get yourself used to sleeping on your back (and possibly elevated depending on your surgeon) BEFORE surgery.
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There are two schools of thought on the locked tomb series; there are the people who took tazmuir at her word when she said gideon had a longsword and drew it as such; then there are the people who know what a longsword is and know that the thing gideon swings is at the bare minimum a fucking claymore.
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I'd love to see a dpxdc story where the Justice League knows about Amity Park and the Ghosts the whole time, and does think the ghosts are rogues to be addressed. Doesn't agree with the GIW, maybe doesn't even know about them? THE IMPORTANT PART.
The Red Huntress is the only active vigilante in Amity Park, according to the JL. Phantom is marked as one of her rogues. Maybe the Fentons even are marked as rogues from all the property damages and random shooting/sliming of citizens. Valarie is the only person successfully taking care of the ghosts, masking and suiting up in the classic vigilante way the whole time.
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yeah I drew more of That. only because I absolutely adore 1930s fashion and keith david has a reeeeally nice voice
have pity on me.
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*shaking from anxiety* wow a quiz to see what kind of bread I am? okay!
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i just think that simon’s the type to stick his freezing hands underneath your shirt early in the morning because he doesn’t know how else to warm them up. it makes you squeak out a surprised gasp and you whirl to glare at him, blinking tired eyes at this big man who just presses his apologies on your temple before drawing you close, snuggling back underneath the sheets and letting the morning pass in silence.
you’re settling back into the fog when you feel his chest rumble, “g’morning, sweetheart.”
you huff a fond laugh, pressing a kiss on his chest, and whisper, “good morning too, big guy.”
i just think that simon’s the type prop you on the kitchen counter before ambling about to prepare breakfast. the kettle goes first (priorities!) then he trudges towards the fridge, grunting at the bright lights before glaring into it, forcing his eyes to focus.
you muffle your quiet giggles on the back of your palms, your legs swinging as you say, “i can cook f’r us, baby.”
he turns to you with a confused hum, still too tired to truly comprehend what you said. “what?”
you jump off the counter to walk towards him, curling your arm around his waist before leading him towards the island’s chairs. he sits without prompting, brows still furrowed in confusion, and you pepper kisses along his face before whirling around and taking over.
it’s when the aroma of coffee fills the space that simon blinks back to reality, mind racing to patch the broken recollection of the previous minutes.
he hugs you from the back, surrounding you with his warmth and bulk. “thank you, darlin.”
i just think that simon’s the type to want to have lazy mornings because it’s then when reality spills over: he’s home.
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