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#just thinking abt some stuff

maxpaulll · 2 months

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Despite being *incredibly* behind on Redacted videos I still have Redacted thoughts from time to time.

Today? David and Angel who regularly shower together.

Not in the sexual way (okay, maybe sometimes in the sexual way) but in a sweet, domestic way. Washing each other’s backs and just taking care of each other in such a simple way. Just to make sure they’re clean.

Angel in the throes of burnout from work, they /have/ to shower to feel clean and like a person but they can’t bring themself to do anything more than sit under the hot water and evaporate, and David who stands behind them and patiently does their annoyingly long hair-care routine, applying their face wash, and gently spraying them down when he’s done-

David, who’s a wreck after the summer solstice, having Angel gently wash away all the sweat and tension away from the day. They’re massaging shampoo into his scalp as he melts, pressing kisses into his temple and wiping the soap from his eyes as they wash it out.

But it’s not just when they need it most. It’s almost every night (unless someone’s away) sometimes it’s just a weeknight and Angel is chatting about their day, or a late Sunday when David’s pulled an almost-all-nighter and Angel is trying not to fall asleep between the warm water and David’s calming presence.

That’s all vv

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted angel #redacted david #just thinking abt some stuff #gay stuff #do 9 out of 15 of these showers turn into “fun’’?? sure. but that’s the beauty of it #I just need to think about them being normal and domestic though #they’re freaks 24/7 let me think about them being normal for three minutes #anyways please enjoy my rambles #and I definitely 100% was NOT projecting onto Ange at all #ps Angel sits on the floor in a bathrobe while David braids their hair for bed #you can’t tell me I’m wrong #I mean you can #but I won’t listen

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cryptcatz · 1 year

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question: do ppl ACTUALLY say things they don’t mean when they’re angry? or is that just an excuse after letting something true slip? i wouldn’t ever say something i don’t mean in anger, so the concept confuses me.

but something was said to me that is bothering me, though apparently was said in an argument and wasn’t meant. but i don’t rlly believe it wasn’t like, deep down true thoughts/feelings??? anyone have any insight? anyone say things they don’t mean in anger?

EDIT: this was a hastily worded post that i didn’t expect to get notes. this is a genuine question asked in good faith that i got a lot of amazing answers to!

also re: the many ppl saying “OP is lying about not saying things they don’t mean in anger because everyone does it”— i genuinely have never done that. if i say something mean while angry, i meant it. that’s literally why i asked this question and why the concept confuses me, because i wouldn’t do something like that so i wanted perspective from people who do it. idk why y’all can’t believe that lmao not everyone is as prone to anger and outbursts

#i know im asking The Autism Website but lol will tag autism stuff cuz i think my confusion is related. idk #autism #autistic #actuallyautistic #autistic community #autistic problems #autistic life #autism problems #neurodivergence #neurodiversesquad #personal #btw i do wanna note that this post is abt an abusive person tho #not everyone who does this is abusive! but in my specific case yes #just a warning cuz some stuff being said to me can be a lil uncomfy when saying i should forgive them #i HAVE. MANY times. too many #the anger post #< if you wanna hear more of my thoughts on this #and others thoughts

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leolaroot · 9 months

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star trek fans specifically are crazy for that. you say "im not really comfortable watching tos because of the way captain kirk interacts with women" and 900000 people come crawling oit of the woodwork to say UM ACTUALLY kirk is a GENTLEMAN FEMINIST who is ALWAYS NICE and VERY BISEXUAL! and the only people who think he acts like that are the DUMB PIG CHAUVINIST MEN who think kirk is LIKE THEM! okay im actually referring to how he constantly grabs at women esp when they're unhappy and physically restrains them. or the weird sexually charged comments he makes. or his persistent assumption of all women as available and simple things to be acquired or controlled. and sometimes they lobby back with the "well Its Made In The Sixties so of course its Dated but its still PROGRESSIVE!" okay well its so dated that im not comfortable. i cant just say to myself "oh well it was another time" and immediately become blind to whats happening before my eyes.

#same with the ppl who watch profit and lace and then walk away and the only comment is “WOW free and simple sex reassignment surgery!”#like i refuse to watch p&l bc i know it'll just be transmisogyny from cold open til credits but like why is it that ive only seen like #maybe three people watch the episode and then comment on it being transmisogynistic. usually in passing. people do NOT want to think abt #this stuff . and like i get it i dont really enjoy it either but like. you are the star trek analyzer you spent 5 hours yesterday posting #about the gay sex symbolism of alien rituals so maybe take some time to analyze the actual text of the show

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biracy · 4 months

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I absolutely understand the desire for asexual representation and I really do think that that's something that deserves to be represented in more "mainstream" gay media (how much gay media is actually mainstream is debatable but you know what I mean), but at the same time I just can't get behind posts like, idk, lamenting the loss of potential asexual representation because two guys on TV had nasty gay sex, bc gay sex on TV is not "the norm" no matter how you slice it. Whereeeee is all the media filled with nasty gay sex. Can I see it

#open mick night #it just feels like missing the forest for the trees you know. i feel the exact same way abt non-asexual gay people blaming ace people #for stuff. all this vitriol aimed at the wrong targets #idk i'm most certainly not trying to Do Discourse i just kinda think it's funny #this world some people seem to live in where men are never allowed to be friends and MUST suck and fuck at all times

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bongo-clash · 2 years

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Peacock Au Part 1

Okay so Big Huge credit to @stealingyourbones for letting me do my own take on their amazing eldritch Danny idea!!!! This started out as me just doing a drawing but then I ended up with a whole DPxDC fic that I'll be posting the part two for at some point!!! Anyway, here's the vague designs:

And here's the part one of the fic under the cut!!! :D (Edit: Part 2 is Here!!)

There’s a Lazarus Pit forming underneath Gotham. Normally, this would not concern John Constantine at all, because it’s Gotham, therefore Bat territory therefore not his problem, and honestly he has his own things to worry about. Unfortunately for him, however, the infamous Dark Knight has somehow gotten it into his head that he can do something about it and, Hell, he’d said it would be a ‘big favour’, which meant the man really must be desperate; had to have been in the first place, he supposed, to have even bothered with John in the first place.

Still, he’d almost kind of forgotten what a huge mess any kind of favour for Batman could be, and thus, he now holds possession of a book that is probably going to get him killed.

Whether the actual book itself wants to kill him is up for debate, but Constantine has read the contents of this particular Book of Summonings and nothing in here seems remotely safe. He’s absolutely going to be hiding this away somewhere deep in the archives of the archives of the Justice League watchtower with an incredibly pointed ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ on it once he’s done with this, but for now, it’s the only thing he’s got in the way of sorting out this Pit problem.

There’s an entity that exists, this book claims, that keeps the balance between realms. ‘Closes doors’, apparently, and the doors the pages depict certainly look like a Lazarus Pit. This is brilliant news, obviously, but the book doesn’t describe the entity itself at all beyond that; barely any of the other entries are as vague as this, and that plus some of the frankly bizarre sigils he’s having to draw to summon the damn thing are giving him no comfort. The only remotely comforting thing about it is that the ritual doesn’t require any blood- which either means the entity is benign, or it wants something more valuable than blood.

…Okay, maybe not that comforting, actually.

But, before he can consider that maybe this wasn’t his best idea and backing out would be for the best, the sigils flare with light, and Constantine squints to keep track of the way they activate, desperate for any indication of what he’s managed to summon with that stupid book.

His feet feel feathery against the ground, like they’re barely tethered by gravity and just waiting to float away, and perhaps the seeming lack of atmosphere is fitting with how dust like stars lift from the summoning circle, bringing with them intercepting layers of purple-blue-pink-white, galaxies and nebulae being peeled off the floor. It comes with a sound- something whistling, almost. Seeming hollow, between a shriek and a bell ringing, or maybe more musical than that. It seems to change every moment he tries to focus on it, as if it’s something his ears can’t really hear but his brain is desperate to process, painful to try.

And then, the entity begins to form.

Unnoticeably at first, a white glow drifts forming in the centre. It congeals as Constantine’s gaze finally fixates on it, layers forming like jellyfish trails, or flowers, or peacock feathers with runic circles at the tips, fading smaller and smaller as they reach the centre, and a thing akin to a body unfolds into view at the front, a centrepiece. A child’s image of a shadow in opalescence, a strange curving feature where a neck might be, and searing-green spots of varying sizes scattered along the space where cheeks and eyes could’ve been, fading up and down across the lower-half of the ‘face’ and into the ‘hair’. He barely understands what he’s looking at, but maybe that’s the point.

The sound of a thunderstorm rings across the room, and the curve of the neck unfolds, and it’s an eye, and the tips of a thousand twisted, cosmic peacock feathers become eyes as well, if they weren’t always. They move, wavering, either lashing or flickering from visibility.

“And what is this?” The voice is a kaleidoscope, echoing off and from every corner of the room, and when they speak, infinite eyes become infinite mouths, too many teeth barely contained by the edges of what seem vaguely like frostbitten lips. To have something even remotely human suddenly etch itself onto the entity is somehow worse than the parts he can’t comprehend. “Who are you, to have summoned me, and seem so afraid?”

Constantine wishes, maybe for the first time, that it hadn’t been an obligation to do this alone; he’s never wanted Batman or one of the Light members with him more than now. It’s a difficult thing, almost impossible, to shake off the speechlessness. It’s a wonder that it’s possible at all, with how the room seems to have been twisted into a vacuum. “I was told you could- you could help with the pits?”

“The pits. There are many pits.”

God, this is creepy. “The Lazarus pits to, uh, to be specific. There’s a huge one cropping up under Gotham that’s not supposed to be there, and the local- I mean, the locals are getting antsy about it. …I heard you can take care of them.”

“I can smell its blood between the gaps of atmosphere, encircling. You, whose soul is bound in so many directions, who may be pulled apart like meat in time- can you sense it? Does it draw you?” John doesn’t know how this- this thing knows that, but he’s scared asking will invoke some kind of consequence, and more and more he’s wondering why the Hell he decided to do Batman this favour. He feels exposed.

“Uh… no, I don’t think so. But can you fix it?”

“Yes.”

“…Will you fix it?”

The chill is getting to him. Goosebumps are running across his arms like a livewire, and he’s never doing anyone a favour ever again. The entity makes an approximation of a hum, his ears shriek with whale song and stars, and after a pause, everything switching up and down on itself, the peacock eyes form into huge, reaching hands. For a second, Constantine’s whole body freezes with terror, because he’s petrified the thing’s going to grab him, but then the arms tumble phasing into the ground, and the green spots on their ‘face’ flare with a supernova glow and they make another piercing noise, chiming or trilling.

A long moment later, the hands slowly return to the entity’s back, and fade into the peacock feathers or jellyfish bells or whatever they were before, blinking at him. “It is gone.”

“Uh… cheers?”

“It will not return, but this place shall see its dead for some time. Try not to look.”

This is maybe the worst day of Constantine’s life. “Can I- uh, yeah, great advice. ‘Appreciate it. But, can I ask just, y’know, what you are? Or not.”

“That is up to you.” They say, and though the eyes that appear briefly between sentences bely or reveal no expression, it feels scrutinising. “What is it that closes doors? Is it alive?”

He hates riddles. He hates riddles and he hates cosmic horrors and he hates eldritch entities and he hates Batman for getting him to agree to this horrible favour. He wants to go back to the House of Mystery and pass out for long enough that this whole thing becomes a dream. “Fair enough! Forget I asked- cheers for sorting out that pit, though. Uh, don’t suppose you’ll just let me go on my way or anything now.”

“I know of your Bat.”

Oh dear. Constantine’s stomach sinks like a shipwreck into the Mariana Trench, but the entity moves on like they’d never even said it. “I will recede, and find you in time, perhaps both. You will know when I am coming, and I will find my recompense.”

And just like that, their whole form shimmers into clouds and pearls and smoke and mirrors, and they fade back into the runes that summoned them like tap water down the drain. The galaxies they’d formulated within the confines of the room fold back in on themselves and turn to whispers and then nothing, but the feeling persists on his skin long after weight has settled back onto his bones. He hadn’t known a thing like that existed until now. He doesn’t know what it can do, doesn’t know how all-encompassing it truly is.

And he owes it a favour.

Crap.