Why Is It That The Responsibility Of Communication Always Falls Into Me. Like You Don't Have Anything
Why is it that the responsibility of communication always falls into me. Like you don't have anything to say until I text you, you don't want to tell me anything about that new promotion or partner until I want to call you up for comfort from a friend, you don't have anything to tell me until I reach out. Then like if we see each other in public it's always " You haven't called in a minute, is everything okay with you" or " We haven't talked in a bit" or "You should call more", if you truly wanted to talk then why don't you call? Why is it when I am mad or when I cry (which I don't do often) is it you want to tell me about all the good things happening to you while I just want to rant to you, or you want to complain about the fucking barista making your drink wrong?!?! Why does my life have to be put on hold for others or you have to compare you or your partner working a bit more to buy a fucking house together to my fucking fiance proposing then cheating! Or the fact that your mom/dad forgot to show up to your game ONE FUCKING TIME to my parents never showing to support me only to talk down about how shit I am to my parents not having one fucking photo of me or an achievement of mine but has my siblings finger paintings from kinder, to my parents not going to both of my graduations from high school and college! Like I want to complain that I couldn't do what I loved because I got shitty ass knees that affect my hips and lower back, I don't want to listen to you compare it to you breaking your leg when you were seven! Then they all get mad when I say anything like what the fuck am I suppose to do, not tell you how shit you treat me? Let you walk all over me?! I call you once in a while to talk to you about you but when I call once in a pink fucking moon to talk about me, I'm the bitch for not wanting you to compare yourself to me when it doesn't relate. I like when people try to relate by telling their problems that actually relate to what I am going through, not you saying dumb shit like "oh when I was 12 I moved and lost my friends but it only took a minute to get new ones" to my "I feel like I am being abandoned by my loved ones that I keep trying to please, did I do something wrong, am I upsetting others?". Like no you not seeing your partner a lot because you are putting in extra hours at work to afford a home together does not compare to me being scared to leave my cheating partner because I will have no where to go. Yes that is a problem and something we could talk about when I am not on the verge of a panic attack because of my problem. Then when say all of this people are like you are the problem, you are the reason people don't reach out to you. Like how am I at fault!!!???
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I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS, THANK YOU!!!!!
Halp tumblr, I thought I saved a fic and I didn’t
If anyone knows the fic, heres what I recall:
It’s a Tim joins the batfam early fic on ao3; the premise is that jack wants Tim to have more masculine interests so he tries to get Tim into cars, which works to well, and he becomes a little speed demon. He does the normal bat stalking he’s known for, deduces the code to unlock the Batmobile, and rescues Bruce dick and Jason from the joker by basically street racing the Batmobile into him
If anyone knows the title, I would love you forever
A brilliant explanation of consent for anyone who STILL doesn’t get it.
These are all actual conversations I had with @mohammedayesh . In fact, while I was working on finishing this comic today, he sent me a video of bomber planes flying above them. There is not a single place in Gaza that is safe.
BUT YOU CAN HELP BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE
Please support Mohammed if you can by donating to his campaign or his PayPal below. He is less than €3000 away from his goal of €15,000. If you cannot donate, then please share. Let’s bring him hope that he can evacuate safely!! <3
[image description: a tweet by user @indigenousAI saying
“fun fact: as a DV survivor i cannot register to vote because doing so makes my address public. anyone who is fleeing or hiding from an abuser is automatically disenfranchised from the political process and this is a feature, not a bug”]
jason: i think we should get a divorce
steph: what are you doing?
jason: just practicing
steph: why are you already planning your hypothetical divorce?
jason: i don't know. i'm getting old, i think i'm having a mid-life crisis
steph: you don't even have a girlfriend
jason: hypothetically divorce me
steph: okay, then i'm hypothetically taking half your assets
jason: well, you didn't sign the hypothetical prenup
jason, to duke: it's called a prenup, right?
duke: yeah, it's a prenup, and you DID hypothetically sign one
steph: who the fuck is this guy?
duke: i'm his hypothetical lawyer in this divorce case
steph: well, then, i'm taking the hypothetical kids
steph, to tim: right? we can get those, right?
tim: yes, we can definitely get the hypothetical kids, don't worry about it
jason: who the fuck is this hypothetical fucking idiot? a hella fucking nerd idiot
tim: wow, that is a lot of hypothetical insults. i need to keep these on for continuity because i look like the other lawyer
steph: this is MY hypothetical lawyer, and we have been hypothetically sleeping with each other
jason: how could you hypothetically do this to me?!
steph: because you hypothetically are an alcoholic!
Anyway for those of you not enmeshed with tumblr’s transgender mycelial network, or otherwise on its periphery, basically every damn day of pride month another couple trans bloggers have gotten wiped, regardless of blog content, following, blog age, anything, and it shows no sign of slowing. In general it seems to be hitting transfems more liberally, but transmasc and nonbinary friends of mine have also been wiped for their steadfast solidarity or Just Cause. There’s also been an uptick in posts being almost immediately marked mature by community tags for no discernible reason beyond “Posting While Trans”. This is a time to stick together like goddamn epoxy resin. Vocally defend and support each other. Block and ignore any wretched cunt spreading callouts or stirring up shit. Make sure you have a way to talk to your friends beyond this site. Don’t buy badges, don’t blaze, cold shoulder the fuck out of mod blogs, and give voice to your discontent.
Bite the hand🖤
Ghost: Johnny asked me to be his fake date at the wedding of one of his sisters so he can avoid the usual “Are you seeing someone” question.
Gaz: I’ve read enough fanfiction to know how this ends.
we do need to revisit the wording of "you can't have your cake and eat it too" because i don't think it clearly enough conveys that it's more that you can't simultaneously retain a cake and also get to consume it (which would render you cakeless). for years i was like But why not....it's my cake....?
So goddamn sweet, I want my boyfriend to be like this!!!
Your Missus coming home after another night out with the boys.
Kyle and Johnny had taken Simon out again. Good lot, those two. He needed it, desperately so in your opinion.
So when he came home in the wee hours of the morning, pissed beyond belief, so much so that Kyle and Johnny were practically holding him up, well...
You figured Simon didn't know where he was. He'd taken one good look at you, or rather through you if his blurry gaze was any indication, and slurred out, "...'m sorry, luv, but I'm a taken missus."
Yes. Yes, you are, Simon.
You helped the boys get him situated. Simon refused to leave the couch, though. You made Johnny and Kyle crash in the spare bedroom and busied yourself helping your husband out of his clothes. His back would be an outright bitch in the morning. You can't say you didn't warn him. "Yer a good one, mate," Simon slurred as he sluggishly helped you take his shoes off, "Jus' like muh missus."
"That so? What's your missus like?" If you can't beat him, join him.
"Bes' fuckin' thing," he started, burping before laying down on his back. Simon looked at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded, fighting sleep yet two seconds from passing out, "Made o'good stuff, lovin' a bastard like me..." Your heart swelled with love, pride, and a little sorrow. You'll make sure to triple the amount of kisses you give him. After his hangover, that is.
"Yer made o'good stuff, too, mate," he trailed off sleepily, "Gonna get a'good missus like mine..."
"And what if I already have him?" You asked as you draped a blanket over Simon. "...Lucky bloke, then. Kick his ass if he doesn't see it..."
Will do, Simon. Will do.
And when your husband woke up the next day, his back an outright bitch, head throbbing, and cursing Kyle and Johnny to high heaven, you recounted every single word he said.
He hasn't lived it down since.
