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#that was more than enough

jacqcrisis · 1 year

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Saw on a snickerdoodle recipe a couple of reviews that were like 'didn't like the tang of the cream of tartar. Will omit next time >:('

Like, my guy. Thats what the cookie is known for. What do you think a snickerdoodle is? Without the cream of tartar, you just have a flatter cinnamon sugar cookie, which is fine, but if you hand me that and go 'snickerdoodle' I will go mmm I don't.... I don't think so.

#cooking stuff #i made that one recipe with the 3 cups of flour #made it with 2 and a half #that was more than enough #they turned out great #baking

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miaeons · 22 days

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all this eclipse said to me was "u survived"

#n tbh #that was more than enough #n the understatment of a lifetime #🧘‍♀️✨#see you space cowboy

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melxhunter · 6 months

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I feel like there are a lot of people out there who needs to hear this:

If you dropped out of school because of diagnosed (or undiagnosed) ADHD, Autism, ADD, OCD, Dyslexia, Anxiety, Depression, Bipolar disorder, psychotic disorders, schizophrenia etc… You did not fail. The education system failed you.

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magnusbae · 10 months

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To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

#i said i wont ever rant about this bc it's unseemly but HONESTLY.#you simply cannot complain about not having enough of A or B or C and then never reblog / interact with the content you love.#If you LOVE something you cannot just leave a like and silently wait for more to happen #I know countless of content creators that simply stopped doing art/writing fic/making edits #You need to understand that fandom content is made FOR the fandom FOR the engagement FOR the entertainment and fun it makes.#If a content creator does not have fun IN the fandom-- why would they spend the scares free time they have on making this content?#And we're not talking about things that you don't like-- no one expects you to reblog things you don't like.#However I think it's safe to say that when a post has more than 5k it's not some random shitpost with no value.#tumblr issues #tumblr #content creators #buns.txt #something something please don't starve your local clowns

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munsons-mutiny · 1 month

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One of my favorite trope for Steddie is Steve hunting down Eddie when the kids join Hellfire and giving him a long list of dos and donts.

At first Eddie thinks he’s just being a prick, and worried he’s going to turn the nerds into freaks like him. Especially when he says not to mention drugs in front of Dustin.

But then he starts pulling out lists of monsters that can’t be in campaigns. And like what??? Why can’t he use demagorgons? They were gonna be in the next combat! He’s tempted to ignore the warnings, in fact he’s all set to, but something about Steve’s face when he was laying it all out haunts him. Something so deadly serious about it. So first he decides to test the waters to see if he’s full of shit.

When the session starts, he makes a throwaway comment, “you’re acting like there’s a mindflayer around the corner.”

All the kids freeze but Wheeler especially looks like he’s going to be sick. He even grabs at the bracelet around his wrist. The one he always said his best friend made him before he moved.

Eddie curses himself for even trying to test it out after that, and immediately bullshits the whole session so he can scrap any hint of demogorgans from the campaign.

After that session he drives straight to Harringtons house and demands they go over all the things he can’t include again, in detail, while he takes notes.

He doesn’t know what’s going on with these freshmen, but he knows trauma when he sees it and well he’d gotten attached to the gremlins.

When he leaves that night, he thinks Steve is looking at him with approval. Like he trusts him with their well-being now.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #mike wheeler #lil bit of byler #just a hint #also I firmly believe there’s not enough Eddie and Mike content in this fandom #like Mike worshipped him too #styled himself after him #and arguably needs Eddie more than Dustin does since he’s already got Steve #idk why I just feel like if anyone can kill season 3 and 4 Mike it’s Eddie #bring back my sweet season 1 and 2 leader who puts his friends before everything else #steddie #mine

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kaibascorpse · 2 months

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some of you people are so obsessed with having an acceptable group to ‘punch up’ at that you would rather pretend a marginalized group are Basically The Oppressors™ than listen to their valid criticisms about the fact that ‘punching up’ very rarely hits the intended target, and the majority of the actual damage of that act is suffered by fellow marginalized people in your own community. there is a significant difference between venting frustrations about privileged groups and just outright attacking anyone who (you assume) experiences that axis of privilege regardless of - and in many cases outright denying - their actual lived experiences. it goes far beyond just ‘venting frustrations’ when what you’re really doing is trying to find a moral justification to bully people you don’t like, and when your own desire for catharsis and moral superiority leads to ignoring the voices of the vulnerable people you hurt. you’re not ‘punching up’ - you just like punching people for the sake of punching.

#in writing this im primarily thinking about #transandrophobia #but i kept the language vague bc really its much more widespread than this one issue #this post is about all the queer groups that get ostracized for not being oppressed enough or having ‘too much privilege’#getting lumped in w the oppressors bc we are assumed to have the same privilege and power as them even when we quite literally do not #gaining conditional privileges for not being visibly/openly queer is not the same as having systemic privilege.#at best it’s a defense mechanism that comes with the constant threat of having that privilege revoked should anyone realize you’re queer #if being ‘privileged’ requires hiding or not acknowledging part of your identity then it’s not really a privilege.#my posts

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iseeyoujon · 10 days

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The S1 Archives main staff was composed entirely of people who (at least partially) liked men. I choose to believe the OIAR will continue the trend of being equal but opposite to the Archives by having the entire S1 main staff like women.

#it's only fair #now let's try to tag this for visibility without obnoxiously overtagging shall we #tma #tmagp #dyhard #jonmartin #the magnus archives #the magnus protocol #yeah the main tags and main ships are more than enough #also i consider lena the elias here aka not main staff but like. big lesbian vibes from her too #which to be fair that works as a mirror to him

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segretecose · 1 year

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they need to invent a career path that is like a nun but you don't have to be religious. you just live in a monastery and have lesbian sex

#i could even live without the sex just the idea of it is more than enough for me #i'm just happy to know it exists

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nerdpoe · 7 months

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I'm not trapped with you, you're trapped here with me.

Danny, in Gotham after bolting from the GIW after a reveal gone bad, is on the roof of a building.

The building is surrounded by GIW agents.

Danny can't fly away, or they'll gun him down.

When the local vigilante lands behind him, all he can think about is how he isn't ready to die all the way. That he admires Gotham Vigilante's, but he isn't going to doubt that they'd side with the letter of the law.

So he overshadows them and bullshits his way out of the situation.

For a Bat, which Danny has heard are notoriously stubborn and tenacious, the chick he's possessing is surprisingly chill. She isn't fighting back at all, completely content to hand over the reigns.

Usually there's like, a little struggle.

Cass, however, is quietly perusing through the memories of the ghost that has possessed her.

He had no ill will when he did the jump, only fear. He only seeks to escape, and Cass understands that with an intimacy she wished she did not have.

What she wants to know is the why.

Hence, subtly going through his mind.

There are many things she was not aware were laws, and she believes that Bruce does not know are laws as well.

She will have to tell him.

He will fix it, one way or another.

She will make sure that he does.

So she watches the most recent memory of her Ghost possessing her; memorizes how it feels for him, how he did it from his point of view, and decides to take over so that she can get him to optimal safety.

If he is a ghost, and a ghost is a soul, and she has a soul; she should be able to take control again. Possess herself. Lock him in.

She is right.

She can feel the brief struggle, the confusion, as her ghost is forced to be the passenger. He tries to leave, but she focuses on how possession felt for him and locks him in place.

Ah!

This would be a good time for a Star Wars quip. It will be funny, even if he does not understand it.

"Congratulations. You are being rescued. Please do not resist."

@simplestoryteller

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #story prompt #phanfic #danny does understand it #this is what stops him from actually fighting back as hard as he can #because he's giggling #and it calms him enough to wanna see where this Bat is taking him #he doesn't know them name by name #but he knows they tend to do more good than harm #unless the red one is having a bad mental health day #which red one?#both

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 1 year

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i am thinking how much poorer, how much less colorful the world would be if art was only made by "professionals." if all the music, all the stories, all the sketches & paintings & craftwork of the world was created only by the small category of people able to make a decent living from their art. imagine if the only people allowed to create were the experts & the renowned & those aspiring to the top. what a grey world that would be. how much joy would be bleached away! i love you people who create for the sake of creating, i love you artists who do art for tiny audiences, i love you people who make things even just for one person, even just for themselves, even if no one's watching, thank you thank you thank you for decorating the world in which we all exist

#not a shitpost #related: the most powerful crafters alive are crocheters who spend 7+ years making an intricate table cloth no one is allowed to eat on #all that arcane magic into making a display object primarily for their own enjoyment #and that of the blessed few lucky enough to be invited into their home to behold what is by rights a sacred object #if you spend a certain number of hours crafting something u have the right to have it put in a shrine or museum of your choosing i think #you have imbued it with your Life Essence by sheer force of concentration and obsession it is Holy now #anyways. old ladies who knit/crochet/embroider etc are a thousands times more powerful and intimidating #than old white dudes who are obsessed with war memorabilia or whatever #i have nothing but respect awe and appropriate amounts of fear towards crafters. my liege

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thevioletcaptain · 1 year

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i genuinely don't care how good a piece of ai generated art or writing looks on the surface. i don't care if it emulates brush strokes and metaphor in a way indistinguishable from those created by a person.

it is not the product of thoughtful creation. it offers no insights into the creator's life or viewpoint. it has no connection to a moment in time or a place or an attitude. it has no perspective. it has no value.

it's empty, it's hollow, and it exists only to generate clicks (and by extension, ad revenue.)

it's just another revolting symptom of the disease that is late stage capitalism, and it fucking sucks.

#''but i just want to use it to--'' don't care! it's shit! stop fucking feeding it!#if you need help generating ideas or jumping off points then join an artist or writer group online #talk to people #make connections #that's what art and writing is supposed to be about in the first place #i'm mad as hell etc.#so goddamn sick and tired of seeing ai shit get passed around on here #it's bad enough in general but every time i see more of it showing up #tagged as fan art or as fic #the angrier i get #heartfelt imperfection in art and writing will always ALWAYS be worth more than the most technically ''perfect'' ai generated image or text #fandom problems #ai generation algorithms die in a fire challenge 2k23 #just a heads up that i'm muting this post and will no longer see responses to it #because i'm tired of seeing dogshit takes from jackasses who want to ''debate'' me #there's no debate you're in the wrong on literally every level and you can die mad about it

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gotham-daydreams · 8 months

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Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd part here.

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

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Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

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Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

#this was all written in one go #so that's fun #more angst than anything honestly #not really any yan but it is supposed to be for yan stuff #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #neglected reader #sibling reader #reader tries too hard and does their best but finds out it isn't enough #some things just aren't meant to be #but that doesn't mean they get to run around scott free either

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solarpunkani · 4 months

Text

sometimes spite is a powerful motivator and today its motivating me to crochet

long story short I saw a cool bag on pinterest while I was looking for crochet patterns but there was no fucking pattern but one of my friends found a pattern for a similar but not quite bag so I watched an hour long video, transcribed it into text, and am now gonna make a wholeass backpack just because Sunflower Vibe

Wish me luck I guess

Also this is the bag