#AND I WAS RIGHT. BUT NOT ENTIRELY BECAUSE I DID NOT THINK IT WOULD HIT AS INTENSELY AS IT DID😭😭 IT WAS MYCH MORE THAN EXPEVTED

[dcxdpdabbles]

I’m so excited for the next part of Demon Head to the Left!!!!!! I kind of want to see Damian interacting with them or Jason meeting them?

Batman sends out a warning.

They have dimension travelers. Younger versions of his Grandfather and his demon lieutenants. Although Batman suspects the counterparts to be somewhat harmless, he wants everyone to be aware to approach them cautiously.

This is reinforced when Green Arrow, Vigilanete, and Black Canary back up the claim after chasing the dimension travelers through Star City.

Damian wasn't sure exactly what he felt when he read the warning.

Disbelief. Fear. Longing. Anger. Joy.

It was always a clutter of contradicting feelings whenever he thought about the League of Assassins. Some days, he wanted more than nothing to return; others, he was eternally grateful his mother got him out. Sitting on a rooftop overlooking the city he's sworn to protect, Damian wonders what he would do in the face of a child version of Grandfather.

He isn't sure he would win. Ra's Al Ghul had always been an unbeatable force, like the knowledge that he could not stop the sun from sitting. Even as a child, Damian couldn't place the word "weak" when considering Ra's.

Especially when this version of his Grandfather and his demon lieutenants had ghosts who were willing to do favors for him. But the thing was that Ra's didn't do favors. He demanded control.

It was a reason why Damian didn't think these counterparts were as bad as his Grandfather or his demons- no matter what Drake claimed otherwise- because he forced those under him to be completely loyal. His workers knew that their right to make decisions was gone the second they agreed to serve the Ghuls. They belonged to Ra's body and soul.

So why would these ghosts given the right to help remove Father? Sure, they did push him out, but not all ghosts there participated.

Father, Constantine, and Zatanna had all gone through the Gotham cemetery, and the group of adolescents had cleaned up and confirmed the ghosts had only been willing to push Batman out because they had cleaned up their resting places. They had refused to do anything besides making him out of the cemetery bonds, and the Child-Ra's had been alright with that.

It's far too lenient of reaction. Damian isn't sure why Grandfather would just let a slight against him be -

A brutal hit to the back of his head rattles his skull, cutting off his thoughts. Damian's hand reached back, clutching his head, in a reflective attempt to soothe the ache.

He twists around, an insult hot on his tongue, and more than ready to introduce the fool that attacked him. Instead of some cocky thug or annoying sibling, what greets him is a metallic boomerang.

It lets out a series of beeps before a woman's robotic voice cheerfully states, "Fenton DNA detected. A match of twenty-five percent confirmed."

Damian blinks at it in confusion when his entire viewpoint is dramatically shifted as a figure passes through the roof and swings him up into a flying hug. It is only the many years of Jon randomly springing hugs that take place in the sky that stop Damian from hurling as the figure spins them in circles, squeezing the life out of him.

"I'm a grandpa!" Child-Ra's cheers. "certified grandpa!"

Damian takes back everything he was thinking. This is by far worst version of his grandfather.

[lexiputellas]

Broken Vows

part2 - mdni

June 12th. Laundry day.

The monstrous, all-consuming, never-ending laundry day.

You remember when laundry was as simple as dropping off a bag of clothes at the dry cleaner and picking it up a few days later, crisp and fresh. That was before. Before life became an endless cycle of dirty socks, misplaced jerseys, and sheets that always seemed to need changing.

You start in Nora’s room. Nora, who is what some might call "spirited" but what you would call an absolute tornado. She plays football, like Alexia, but in terms of clothes, she is nothing like her mother. Alexia is meticulous. Methodical. Everything folded in perfect squares, socks matched like puzzle pieces. Nora? Chaos incarnate. At one point, you even wondered if she had ADHD, but then again, navigating a six-year-old’s mind is harder than you ever anticipated.

You strip the bed, replace the sheets, and move to Iris’s room.

The moment you step inside, a memory crashes over you. You and Alexia painting the walls, carefully placing the crib, folding tiny baby clothes. You were so pregnant with Iris that you joked about rolling around instead of walking. So big, so round, so full of expectation. But the reality was different. Harder.

You cried while feeding her, your nipples raw and bleeding. Your body didn’t feel like your own, you were right on the edge—so close to falling into postpartum depression that you still wonder if you actually did. Just a breath away from giving up.

But that was then. And today, you refuse to dwell on it.

You move to your bedroom, stripping the sheets, gathering Alexia’s clothes from the bathroom floor. You wash them the way she likes—because, of course, Alexia has a very specific way she likes things done. You are halfway through making the bed when her phone slips off the mattress, landing right on your foot.

Pain explodes up your feet.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hiss, grabbing your foot before bending down to retrieve the damn thing.

You think about texting one of the girls, letting them know Alexia left her phone at home. But as you glance at the screen, a name catches your eye.

Eva.

There are several messages. You shouldn't look. You know that. You know it’s wrong. But the urge is overwhelming.

Who the fuck is Eva?

Your heart pounds as your fingers hover over the screen. You know Alexia’s passcode. It used to be your birthday, then hers, then Nora’s. You try and it works, the messages open.

It’s not a long conversation. Not pages and pages, just a few days’ worth. But it’s enough.

*Where are you? I’m worried.*

*Did your wife give you a hard time for getting home late?*

You didn’t. You pretended to be asleep when Alexia climbed into bed last night.

*When will I see you again?*

Your stomach twists. Maybe Eva is just a friend. A close one, maybe even a best friend. But deep down, you know. You fucking know. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers move.

You type back, pretending to be Alexia.

*Last night was good.*

You hit send. Your heart is pounding.

It takes barely a moment for Eva to reply.

*Oh, just fine, yeah?* she asks, her words dripping with a quiet, simmering edge of something darker.

*Was it just good when you fucked me against the balcony?* she adds, that sharp edge now unmistakable, laced with a daring smirk you can almost hear.

You freeze. Your pulse spikes, the room spinning around you. The words blur. The world tilts.

Alexia fucked someone else.

Eva.

Eva, who?

Eva, the reason she stopped coming home for dinner?

Eva, the reason she stopped tucking the girls into bed?

Eva, the reason she started giving up on you?

The name pounds inside your skull like a drum, like a fucking rock concert reverberating through your entire being. You can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe.

You drop to the floor, staring up at the ceiling, hot tears pricking at your eyes.

Is Eva prettier than you? Does she fuck better than you? Is she hotter? Funnier? Nicer?

You don’t know what to do. You don’t even know how to exist in this moment.

A cry pulls you back.

Iris.

You forgot you left her in her playpen.

You wipe your tears, stand up, and go to her. She snuggles into your arms, warm and safe. You hold her close, pressing your lips against her tiny forehead, and think—What the fuck am I going to do?

———————————————

7 PM. Dinner is ready.

You always wait until 7:30 to see if Alexia is coming home. You text Jana, telling her Alexia left her phone behind. Jana just says, Okay.

Alexia arrives on time. Kit still on, hair in a messy bun, looking every bit like the woman you fell in love with. She comes straight to you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before heading to the girls, lifting them onto the kitchen counter as they sing along to something on the iPad.

She asks where her phone is.

"Upstairs," you say.

She kisses the girls again before heading up.

You had deleted the messages. Every single one. You’re not stupid.

When she comes back, phone in hand, she helps you set the table. You sit next to Iris, feeding her small bites, while Alexia chats with Nora. It feels normal. Eerily normal. Almost like the past.

You eat Dinner. Do the dishes. Put Nora to bed and Alexia tucks in Iris.

After being done you go to your bedroom, with an idea in mind.

Alexia is already there, sitting against the headboard, scrolling through her phone.

"You know what I was thinking?" you say.

She hums without looking up. "Hmm?"

"I got something for you. Want to see it?"

Her head tilts. She looks intrigued.

You haven’t bought or worn lingerie in years. Not since you stopped feeling like the woman who used to leave Alexia breathless. But you still have some—tucked away in the back of your closet, hidden like a past life.

"What it is? Show me," she says.

You step into the bathroom, slipping into the black lace. It hugs every curve, pushes up your breasts, makes you look almost unfamiliar to yourself. You barely recognize yourself.

But when you step out, Alexia does.

She stares.

Not just a glance—she looks at you like she used to, like she’s seeing something she forgot she could have. Like you’ve just stolen the air from her lungs.

Her phone slips from her fingers, forgotten.

You crawl onto her lap, slow, deliberate, feeling the heat radiating from her body the moment your thighs settle over hers.

Her hands move without hesitation—roaming, squeezing, claiming. Her breath is heavier, her fingers digging into your hips, trailing up your sides, gripping your waist like she’s trying to memorize you all over again.

"Fuck, baby," she murmurs, her lips dragging over your throat, her voice thick, ruined. "You look so fucking hot."

Her fingers move lower, tracing the lace, teasing the edge of the fabric. You roll your hips against her, slow and smooth, watching the way her jaw tenses, the way her fingers twitch against your skin.

She groans, low and guttural, her hands sliding up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms—like she needs to touch every inch of you. Her lips trail lower, hot and open-mouthed, sucking bruises into your collarbone, your breast, dragging her teeth over lace-covered skin.

Her hands are on your thighs, spreading you, guiding you against her. You grind down, chasing something desperate, moving against her fingers the second they find you—slick, eager, drowning in want. Her breath hitches as she pushes inside, stretching you, filling you.

Your forehead drops against hers, your breathing uneven, your body trembling. It’s messy. It’s hungry. It’s not enough.

And then—

You lean in, your lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, and whisper—

"Does Eva fuck like I do?"

Everything stops.

Alexia’s hands freeze inside you, her breath catching in her throat.

She pulls back just enough to see your face, her brows furrowing, her eyes flashing with something dark, something uncertain, something dangerously close to breaking.

She looks at you like she doesn’t understand.

Like she doesn’t want to understand.

You smile.

"Yeah, Alexia," you whisper, voice sharp, taunting, twisting the knife. "I’m not fucking blind."

[f1shart]

thinking about buzz beating up the curious brothers again. like what do you mean

but buzz is older than them?? time to dissect this (and by that i mean overly complicate it!!)

Making Sense of Buzz Grunt Beating the Shit Out of the Curious Brothers (and Loki)

I went into this assuming that, considering how old Buzz is, him beating up the Curious brothers + Loki as a teenager was statistically impossible, especially considering their age in actual human years—but was I wrong? Is it actually possible that Buzz did fight them within the time he spent as a teenager?

First, some supporting information.

Age Conversions Based on Adult Lifestage

Buzz: Day 14 or 43 years old Pascal: Day 10 or 38 years old Loki: Day 9 or 36 years old Vidcund: Day 6 or 32 years old Lazlo: Day 1 or 25 years old

These aren't even my own age headcanons for them (except Buzz's which is surprisingly accurate), just calculations. If you want to know how I got them then feel free to ask 😇

Evidence Provided by Memories

As seen in the picture, Buzz fought everyone "as soon as he aged up." However, it's possible he just has no memories of early teenhood.

Pascal similarly gained the memory as soon as he aged up. This idea is more plausible with him because he was accepted into private high school after the fact. Sure, in gameplay, this can happen as late as the last day as a teenager, but I doubt this is what Maxis was trying to convey since they literally handpicked these memories. Meaning: Buzz beat him up in middle school…?

Loki's only teen memory is losing the fight.

According to the Sims Wiki, Vidcund has no memory of Buzz beating him up (how hard did he hit him?)

Similar to Loki and Pascal, Lazlo's first memory as a teenager is getting beat up by Buzz.

Is This Possible In Normal Gameplay?

Disregarding any other family memories that arose around the time (I do NOT want to try to decipher the entire Curious timeline), the fight memories are in fact possible with their Sim ages.

The teen lifespan in The Sims 2 is 15 days long. Buzz is 4 days older than Pascal, 5 days older than Loki, 8 days older than Vidcund, and 13 days older than Lazlo.

Ensuring that everyone still falls within the teen lifestage, I made a table of the earliest and latest possible ages everyone could have been when Buzz attacked:

Converting their teen days into human years, Buzz either beat them all up as an 18 year old OR slowly picked them off until age 17 which is right before he kissed Lyla. None of this, however, is possible based on the initial age calculations.

Buzz's Attacks Based On the Adult Age Conversions

Buzz is 5 years older than Pascal, 7 years older than Loki, 11 years older than Vidcund, and 18 years older than Lazlo. There are two ways we can interpret their memories: either the Curious brothers + Loki were teenagers when Buzz attacked, or Buzz was a teenager when he started attacking them.

On the basis that Buzz is still a teenager, and assuming each fight happened in close proximity to one another, he specifically had to have been 18 years old when each one happened. This makes Pascal a 13 year old, Loki an 11 year old, Vidcund a 7 year old, and Lazlo…a newborn. ☠️ Alternatively, Buzz may have started younger and continued fighting until 18, the only teen year he could have possibly encountered Lazlo in.

If that seems implausible, then maybe Buzz wasn't a teenager and instead beat the boys up as soon as they turned thirteen. This would make him 18 for Pascal, 20 for Loki, 24 for Vidcund, and 31 for Lazlo. (Side note: Tank and Ripp would have been born by then.)

Conclusion

Regardless of whether you base it on Buzz been a teen or the victims being teens, him beating up Lazlo looks pretty bad. And if you go by gameplay rules, everything flows surprisingly well. According to normal gameplay AND real-life age conversions, Buzz is a big meanie who beat up at least one kid as a legal adult, at least with the age conversion system I used…

Me personally, I think he was college-aged when he started bullying them. (Or maybe they attacked him? Plot twist.) Of course, what I discussed weren't the only possibilities, but they should give a good idea of how things actually went… and maybe they can inspire your own headcanons! ^_^

this is such a useless pseudo-essay LMFAOO

[minxmut-cafe]

BEAR WITH ME ?? | 02.

Pairing: Bear hybrid Namjoon x Ferret hybrid reader

Word count: 10k words.

Authors note: HERE IS THE CONTINUATION !! LET'S GOOOO.

Warning: Smut, Vaginal sex, oral sex (M & F receiving), hybrid sex, mentions of death, mention of heat, feral Namjoon, size kink, spanking, mating press, mentions of various sex positions, reader being a menace, Namjoons a gentle giant, rough sex, cunnilingus, idiots in love, reader is immature, Namjoon is suffering, HUGE size difference (Imagine gyomei and shinobu). Masturbation, Namjoons a boob guy. Titty analysis :)

Synopsis:

"Namjoon spots a Tiny ferret hybrid getting pushed around by a bunch of hyena hybrids and decides to intervene. Little did he know that would lead to a series of interesting, traumatising and hilarious memories, some of which he's convinced were attempted murder attempts."

Namjoon frowned at his phone, staring at the empty notification bar.

Nothing.

Not a single text. No missed calls. No chaotic voice messages filled with unhinged rambling.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

At first, he was relieved.

After the hell he went through last night, he figured maybe some space would be good.

Give him time to reset, to push certain thoughts out of his brain.

But as the hours passed, that relief slowly turned into something else.

Unease.

By the time another day rolled around with still no sign of you, Namjoon was officially concerned.

You never went this long without contact.

Were you sick?

In trouble?

Or worse—avoiding him?

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

No.

No, that didn’t make sense.

If you were mad at him, you’d tell him—probably in the most dramatic way possible.

So where the hell were you?

Frowning, Namjoon pulled out his phone and dialed your number.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Then went to voicemail.

Namjoon’s stomach twisted.

Something was wrong.

And he was going to find out what.

The moment Namjoon opened the door to her place, the scent hit him, Namjoon froze.

His brain short-circuited.

Because fuck.

Fuck.

This wasn’t sickness.

This was something else entirely.

A deep, primal part of him recognized it instantly.

Heat.

The realization slammed into him like a truck.

And suddenly, everything made sense.

The disappearance. The radio silence. The way his instincts immediately reacted.

Because he wasn’t just a man.

He was a bear hybrid.

Territorial.

Possessive.

And, when faced with the scent of a fertile, needy female—

Oh, fuck.

His grip on the soup container tightened.

He needed to leave.

Right now.

Before his instincts did something stupid.

Namjoon didn’t even get the chance to think.

One second, he was frozen in place, brain malfunctioning.

The next—

She was on him.

Tiny arms wrapped around his waist. A small, trembling body pressing flush against his.

Namjoon locked up.

Every muscle in his body went rigid.

Because fuck, she was burning up.

"J-Joonie," you whimpered. "It hurts..."

His breath hitched.

His instincts screamed—urging him to hold you, soothe you, claim you.

But he couldn’t.

He shouldn’t.

"I—I couldn’t find anyone," you continued, voice thick with frustration and something dangerously close to desperation. "No one I trust. No one I want."

Namjoon swallowed thickly.

His heartbeat was a thunderous roar in his ears.

But then—

Then you curled into him, fingers gripping his shirt, voice barely above a whisper.

"I’m scared, Joonie..."

His entire world stopped.

"If I don’t mate..." You shivered violently. "I could get sick. Really sick. Aplastic anemia can—"

Namjoon growled.

Deep.

Instinctual.

Dangerous.

Because no.

No, no, no.

That wasn’t happening.

Not to you.

Not on his fucking watch.

Namjoon moved before he could think.

The soup was forgotten, placed on the nearest surface as he bent down and lifted you into his arms.

You gasped softly, fingers clutching at his shoulders, but you didn’t fight him. If anything, you melted into him, whimpering as you buried your face against his throat, your whole body trembling.

His jaw locked.

Fuck.

He had to be careful.

Because he could smell you.

Feel you.

And his instincts were howling.

But he shoved them down and carried you to your bedroom, placing you gently on the bed.

Then he stepped back, inhaled sharply, and forced himself to focus.

"Do you want me to mate you?" His voice was low, steady—but beneath it was something rough. Something dangerous.

Your breath hitched.

"J-Joonie—"

"Listen to me." His gaze locked onto yours, serious and unyielding. "I’ll do it. I’ll take care of you. But you need to understand—"

He exhaled sharply, fists clenching at his sides.

"I’m not doing this just to get you through your heat."

His voice was softer now, rougher—tinged with something real.

"I have feelings for you," he admitted. "I want you. Not just because of this. But because it’s you."

Silence hung between you, thick and heavy.

Then—

"Do you understand?”

Namjoon barely had time to react.

One second, she was sitting there, eyes wide and dazed.

The next—

"Oh, fuck that—"

You lunged.

Straight for his belt.

Namjoon caught your wrists just in time.

"Whoa—!" He gritted his teeth, barely managing to hold you back. "Answer first."

"Joonie, please—" you whined, struggling against his grip. "It hurts—"

His jaw tightened.

Fuck.

You were desperate. Burning up.

And all he wanted to do was give in.

But not like this.

Not without your words.

"Say it." His voice was low, rough—his patience hanging by a thread. "Tell me you understand.”

Your breath was ragged, your body trembling. But this time, it wasn’t just because of your heat.

"I understand," you whispered. "And I feel the same way."

Namjoon’s grip on your wrists loosened.

"I’m not just saying this because I’m—" you exhaled sharply, biting your lip. "—because I’m horny beyond saving."

A muscle in Namjoon’s jaw ticked.

"I’ve felt this way for months," you admitted, voice dropping to a whisper. "Ever since you—"

You swallowed hard.

"Ever since you dry-humped me in your sleep."

Namjoon froze.

His brain short-circuited.

"It took everything in me not to ride you stupid," you continued, eyes blown wide with lust and something deeper. "And now I can’t take it anymore—"

You yanked her hands free and lunged again.

This time, Namjoon let you.

Because his instincts?

They snapped.

Your fingers fumbled with his belt, desperate and shaking.

"Come on— Fuck—stupid thing—"

Namjoon exhaled through his nose, watching as you struggled. Your whining only made it worse, your heat-drunk frustration making his instincts snarl.

When you finally got it undone, you yanked his pants down in one go.

He barely had time to step out of them before you were reaching for his boxers.

He shed his flannel and shirt, tossing them aside.

And that’s when you froze.

Your breath hitched.

"Oh..."

Namjoon clenched his jaw, fighting every instinct screaming at him to grab you, flip you over, and—

You pulled his boxers down.

And your mouth dropped open.

You practically drooled.

"Holy shit."

You barely had time to blink before Namjoon moved.

A startled whine left your lips as he pushed you back onto the bed.

"Joon—!"

Your protest died the second his mouth crashed against yours.

He kissed you deep—messy, desperate, sucking on your lips and tongue like he was starving.

You whimpered into his mouth, arching into him as his hands tore at your clothes.

Fuck, this was so much better than he had ever imagined.

Namjoon barely had a second to breathe.

He pulled back, panting, about to say something—

And then you moved.

Before he could react, your mouth was on him.

"Fuck—" His entire body jerked.

You were a menace.

And you were perfect.

Your body, your sounds—everything about you made his instincts snarl.

His hands trembled as he buried them in your hair, hips twitching at the feeling of your hot, wet mouth—

This was so much better than his imagination.

And he never wanted it to stop.

Your mouth stretched wide, barely able to take half of him.

The rest you palmed with both hands, fingers stroking up and down his thick length while your other hand squeezed his balls.

Namjoon groaned, head dropping back, his massive hands tightening in your hair.

"Fuck—" His voice was wrecked, deep and ragged.

But what really did him in?

The way you looked up at him.

Big, glossy eyes, lips stretched around his cock, cheeks hollowing as you bobbed your head—

He twitched in your mouth, barely restraining the urge to thrust deeper.

Namjoon let you have your way, let you suck him just how you wanted—until he couldn’t take it anymore.

With a deep growl, he tore you away, a strand of spit connecting your lips to his cock.

You whined, eyes dazed and needy.

"Joon—!"

"Baby," he panted, cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your wet lips. "This is your first time. Your first heat." His voice was wrecked, strained. "I really don’t wanna blow my load before I even get to fuck you."

You whimpered, squirming, but he shushed you gently.

"Spread those pretty legs for me," he murmured, eyes dark. "Let me stretch you out first."

His fingers traced down your trembling body.

"You’re so fucking tiny," he muttered, voice thick with desire. "I’m gonna have to be real thorough to make sure this cunt can take me."

And then, with a wicked smirk, he pushed you down and spread your open.

Oh, you threw a fit.

Because of course you did.

"Excuse you—!" You tried to sit up, indignant. "I was having fun, you big fucking—"

Smack.

A sharp gasp ripped from your throat as Namjoon's palm cracked against your ass, the impact sending a delicious sting through your body.

You froze.

Namjoon, towering over you, let out a low, dangerous rumble.

"Behave," he ordered, voice deep, dripping with authority.

Your mouth opened. Then closed.

You gulped.

Maybe... maybe you could let him have his way.

For now.

You pouted up at him, lower lip jutting out in protest. "Meanie," she mumbled, but still, you spread you legs for him.

Namjoon chuckled darkly, large hands gripping your thighs as he settled between them. "You’ll survive," he murmured, gaze locked onto the slick mess between your legs. "Now be good and let me take care of you."

And then—

You choked on a gasp when he pressed a single finger inside.

What the fuck.

"Joon—" your back arched, nails digging into the sheets. "Why the fuck are your fingers so big?!"

Namjoon only smirked, gripping your hip to hold you still as he worked his finger in deeper, watching the way your tiny hole stretched around it. "And you think you can take my cock just like that?" he teased.

Before you could snap back, he pulled you to the edge of the bed, got on his knees, and lowered his mouth to your soaked cunt.

You barely had time to react before his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking hard.

"Ah—!" You jerked, hands flying to his hair.

He licked, sucked, kissed you like he was savoring his favorite meal.

And then—

Another finger.

Your gasp turned into a whine, legs trembling as he slowly pushed it inside alongside the first.

"It hurts," you whimpered, hips twisting as you tried to adjust.

Namjoon growled against you, sending vibrations through your core. "Shh, baby," he soothed, lapping at your clit. "Let me make it better."

Namjoon was a menace.

He sucked you clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the swollen bud, then gently bit down, just enough to make you jolt.

"J-Joon!" You gasped, thighs trembling around his head.

He only hummed, sending another shudder through you.

Your poor clit—already abused from your own desperate attempts to get off before he came over—was throbbing, overstimulated, but he showed no mercy.

His fingers worked in tandem with his mouth, curling, scissoring you open as he stretched you out.

You were still so tight, sucking his fingers in with every push, every thrust.

"Shit, baby," he groaned, kissing your clit before looking up at you with lidded eyes. "Did you play with yourself the whole day?"

You flushed, trying to turn your face away, but he curled his fingers just right—

"Ah—!"

"You did, didn’t you?" he murmured, smirking against your thigh. "Poor thing. Still wasn’t enough, huh?"

You mustered up whatever bratty energy you had left and threw a weak, "Fuck you," his way, breathless and trembling.

Namjoon chuckled—a deep, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine—before sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

"Wrong," he murmured against your skin, licking over the fresh bite mark possessively. "It’s me who’s about to fuck you."

You whimpered.

And he grinned.

Namjoon was merciless.

His fingers pressed against that devastating spot inside you, curling, rubbing, pushing just right as his tongue tormented your clit. His pace never faltered, never slowed, dragging you higher and higher until—

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—!"

Your back arched off the bed, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashed through you.

It was soul-crushing.

It left you shaking, thighs trembling around his head as wave after wave of pleasure wracked your body.

Namjoon growled against you, pinning your hips down as he dragged out every last aftershock, licking you through it, savoring the way she twitched beneath him.

When you finally slumped against the bed, boneless and panting, he grinned.

"Good girl," he purred, lips brushing against your inner thigh. "Now, let’s see how many more you can give me before I fuck you open."

Namjoon wasn’t satisfied with just one.

He added another finger, stretching you out further, making you whimper at the burn.

"Shh, baby," he cooed, kissing the inside of your thigh as he slowly thrust them in and out. "You’re taking me so well."

His fingers worked you mercilessly, curling, scissoring, fucking you open as his tongue never left your clit.

The second orgasm hit faster than you expected—your breath hitched, your back arched, and you cried out, body shaking as pleasure wracked you.

"That’s it," Namjoon groaned, voice thick with arousal, watching the way you clenched around his fingers. "Give me another."

And you did.

By the third orgasm, you were a mess, tears pricking at your eyes as you gasped and whined, your body overwhelmed but still desperate for more.

Only then—after you were a twitching, overstimulated wreck beneath him—did Namjoon finally consider fucking you.

He smirked, kissing your inner thigh one last time before murmuring, "Think you’re ready for my cock now, baby?"

Namjoon kissed you deeply, swallowing your soft whimpers as he sucked on your tongue, making her melt beneath him.

His lips trailed down, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck. He focused on every little spot that made you shiver, nipping, licking, savoring the way your breath hitched.

All the while, his fingers never stopped—still scissoring you open, still stretching your tiny, tight cunt, making sure you were as ready as you could be.

"You’re so fucking small," he murmured against your throat, voice husky with need. "Gotta make sure you can take me, baby."

You whimpered, clutching at his shoulders, aching to finally feel his cock inside you.

Namjoon groaned at your desperation but took his time, gently pushing you back onto the bed, adjusting you until you were comfortable.

Then, with a tenderness that almost contradicted the heat in his eyes, he grabbed a pillow and slid it beneath your hips.

"Gotta get the angle just right," he rasped, running his hands up your thighs as he settled between them. "Don’t want you hurting, sweetheart."

He pressed a kiss to your knee, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

"You ready for me?"

Namjoon groaned as he pressed your thighs to your chest, spreading you open completely beneath him.

"So tiny," he murmured, voice thick with awe and restraint as he lined himself up with your entrance. "Gotta go slow, baby. Gotta stretch you open real nice for me."

He started by rubbing your clit with his tip, letting it glide against your sensitive bundle of nerves. The soft, teasing friction had you squirming, thighs trembling as you whined beneath him.

"Shh, just relax," he soothed, replacing his cock with his fingers, circling your clit with slow, deliberate strokes. "Let me in, sweetheart."

And then, he pushed.

"Fuck—" you gasped, eyes widening as the head of his cock finally slipped inside.

Namjoon gritted his teeth, groaning low as your walls clenched around him.

"Shit—so fucking tight," he ground out, barely able to move. "Baby, you gotta—fuck—loosen up for me, okay?"

You tried. You really did. But it wasn’t just the length—it was the thickness that had your brain spinning.

Namjoon exhaled sharply, sensing her struggle. He paused halfway, his breath shaky as he reached down and resumed rubbing your clit, slow and careful.

"You're doing so good," he murmured, pressing gentle kisses to your ankle, your knee. "Breathe, baby. Relax for me."

You whimpered, eyes fluttering as his fingers worked you over, coaxing your body to ease up.

And when you finally did—when you gasped and you walls fluttered, relaxing just enough—Namjoon took advantage.

"Good girl," he groaned, slowly sinking the rest of the way in.

Bottoming out in one, deep thrust.

Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep, measured breaths as he stayed completely still inside you.

Fuck.

You were so tight, so unbelievably warm around him, clenching down like you were trying to keep him locked inside you forever. If he moved—if he so much as twitched—he might embarrass himself and blow his load way too soon.

So he focused.

Okay, Namjoon. Think of something else. Think of anything else.

One bear paw. Two bear paws. Three—

Fuck, she’s so tiny.

Four bear paws. Five bear—

Shit, the way she’s squeezing me—

Six bear paws. Seven—

“Joonie…” you whimpered, shifting slightly beneath him.

His jaw clenched.

“Baby, don’t—” he warned, voice strained.

You blinked up at him, dazed and needy, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as you squirmed.

“Feels so good…” you mumbled, dragging your nails lightly down his back.

Namjoon choked. His arms trembled as he barely held himself together.

Eight bear paws. Nine—

Your walls fluttered around him, and he felt it.

FUCK.

He dropped his head to your shoulder, panting heavily as he groaned, voice muffled against your skin.

“Baby,” he rasped, “you gotta—give me a second—”

You giggled breathlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in deeper.

Namjoon whimpered.

Whimpered.

Like a bitch.

Your giggle was downright wicked. Even in the throes of pleasure, you were still a menace.

Namjoon’s entire body tensed when you clenched around him on purpose, her tiny hands dragging down his back, teasing him, taunting him. He could feel the way you were testing him, pushing him to his limits.

“Joonie,” you whispered in his ear, your breath warm and teasing. “Are you… whimpering?”

He growled.

A low, deep, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest and vibrated against your skin.

Your laughter immediately cut off.

Namjoon lifted his head slowly, eyes dark and filled with something feral. You swallowed hard, realizing maybe—just maybe—you had pushed him a little too far.

“Baby,” he said, voice thick with restraint. “Do you want to walk tomorrow?”

Your ears twitched, and you suddenly remembered that oh yeah, you were currently impaled on a massive bear hybrid’s cock, and antagonizing him might not be the smartest decision.

But then again…

You grinned.

“I mean… do I really need to?”

Namjoon lost his last shred of self-control.

His hips snapped forward, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he buried himself deeper than you thought was even possible.

Your laugh morphed into a strangled moan.

“J-Joon—oh fuck—!”

He pulled back slowly, deliberately, before thrusting into you again, his thick cock stretching your walls to the limit. You screamed, fingers scrambling for purchase on his broad shoulders.

“T-Take it back—!” you gasped, eyes wide, already overwhelmed. “I take it back—!”

Namjoon chuckled darkly, leaning down to kiss your neck, sharp teeth grazing her sensitive skin.

“Too late, baby,” he murmured. “You asked for this.”

And with that, he fucked you.

Namjoon fucked you stupid.

He pulled out almost all the way, just leaving the tip in before slamming back inside, his thick cock stretching you open over and over again. Your walls clenched around him so tightly, so hot and wet that it made him see stars. His grip on your thighs tightened, nails digging into your soft skin as he fucked you into the mattress.

His cock hit your g-spot every time, his thick tip pressing against your womb with every deep thrust.

You we're gone.

Eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open as breathless moans and little whimpers spilled from your lips.

Namjoon grinned, breathless and wrecked, leaning down to take a stiff, sensitive nipple into his mouth.

The tits he had so carefully analyzed just days ago? Yeah. He was all over them now—sucking, licking, teasing with his tongue before switching to the other, his free hand kneading the soft flesh like he was trying to memorize it.

Between sucks, he grinned against your skin and murmured, “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

You whimpered, legs trembling around him.

Namjoon chuckled darkly. “What happened to all that attitude?”

His thrusts quickened, hips snapping against yours, the wet, obscene sounds of their bodies meeting echoing through the room.

You tried to respond—maybe to sass him back—but all that came out was a pathetic little moan.

Namjoon groaned, feeling primal at the sight of you beneath him, completely wrecked.

“Aw, is my filthy little girl too dumb to talk now?” he taunted, sucking another mark into her skin. “Too stupid to tease me anymore?”

You whimpered, back arching, nails scratching down his back.

Namjoon grinned wickedly.

“You must be real dumb to tease a bear hybrid when you’re this tiny,” he murmured, thrusting deep and holding it, making you squirm. “Did you forget what I could do to you?”

You clenched around him so tight he nearly choked.

Namjoon growled.

Oh.

You liked that.

His instincts snapped.

He pinned you down, laced your fingers together, and fucked you senseless.

You were in actual heaven.

This was everything you had dreamed about, everything you had fantasized about late at night with your hand between your legs. But this? This was so much better.

Namjoon’s sheer size overwhelmed you, his massive frame towering over you, caging you in, making you feel so small beneath him. His thick arms flexed as he held himself up, his weight pressing you deliciously into the mattress, your fingers laced together above your head.

His cock stretched you open, filling you so perfectly that you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—just feel.

Your walls clenched around him, and he groaned, his pace brutal, his thrusts deep and overwhelming.

“You’re so small,” he gritted out, staring down at where they were joined, mesmerized by the way you struggled to take him. His cock was glistening with your slick, and the sight alone nearly made him lose his mind. “How the fuck are you even taking me?”

You moaned, tightening your fingers around his. “I—I don’t know,” she gasped. “But don’t stop—don’t stop—”

Namjoon growled, burying his face in your neck as he fucked you harder, hips slamming against yours, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the air.

“Don’t plan on it,” he murmured against your throat, nipping at your pulse. “Not until I make sure this tiny cunt is properly bred.”

Your brain short-circuited.

B—Bred?!

You clenched around him so violently that he choked, thrusting deep, his breath stuttering.

Namjoon groaned, pulling back to look at your flushed, fucked-out face.

“Oh,” he purred, grinning. “You liked that.”

Namjoon chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with amusement as he thrust deep and stayed there, grinding his hips against yours.

“Does my pretty little darling girl have a breeding kink?” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot, teasing.

You let out a pathetic little whimper, your hands clawing at his back. “Shut up,” you gasped, but your body betrayed you—clenching down around him like you desperately wanted him to fill her up.

He smirked, kissing you softly—too soft for how brutal his thrusts had been, the contrast making you dizzy. “Oh, you do, don’t you?” he purred against your lips. “You want me to breed this tiny cunt of yours, huh? Fill you up nice and full?”

You whined, trying to move, but Namjoon wasn’t having it.

“Uh-uh,” he growled, pulling you up against his chest, his thick arms caging you in. He wanted to see you. Wanted to watch your face as he wrecked you.

He knew you were close. He could feel it.

And fuck—so was he.

Your constant clenching had him rutting into you like a feral beast, barely holding himself back.

“You bounce on my cock so perfectly, baby,” he groaned, guiding your hips. “Come on, cum for me—milk my cock like a good girl.”

And you did—so perfectly.

Your body tensed, then trembled as you came, your walls squeezing him like a vice, pulsing around his cock. You were so tight, so warm, and fuck—he could feel every little flutter, every little tremor as you moaned his name, you voice breaking into little gasps and whimpers.

Namjoon cursed, his grip tightening on your hips as he chased his own high, rutting into you like a man possessed. “Fuck, baby—just like that,” he growled, his voice wrecked, his restraint snapping.

His thrusts became sloppy, desperate, his cock twitching inside you. He buried his face in your neck, breathing you in, his instincts screaming at him to fill you up.

And then—he did.

Namjoon groaned, long and deep, as he came inside you, spilling himself into you with shuddering, wrecked thrusts. His cock throbbed with every pulse of his release, and he made sure—fuck, he made sure you took all of it, staying deep, pressing his hips flush against you.

For a moment, all that could be heard was y'all heavy breathing, your soft little whimpers as you trembled in his hold, completely wrecked.

Namjoon chuckled breathlessly, pressing a lazy kiss against your temple. “Told you I’d stretch you out, baby.”

Namjoon slowly pulled out, groaning at the way your walls clung to him, reluctant to let him go. And fuck—that was the prettiest creampie he had ever seen.

His cum dripped from your swollen, twitching hole, glistening as it leaked onto the sheets. And the best part? You were gaping, your tiny cunt stretched open, still pulsing around nothing, as if begging for more.

Namjoon groaned, his cock twitching at the sight. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured, running his fingers along her inner thigh, watching as his release slowly dripped out of you. He was mesmerized, transfixed, and so fucking tempted to stuff it back in—

You whined, shifting slightly, and Namjoon immediately snapped out of it. He chuckled, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your trembling thigh. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You blinked up at him, dazed, cheeks flushed, lips parted. And then—you smirked, albeit weakly.

“Dunno,” you mumbled. “Kinda feel like I just got rearranged.”

Namjoon huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he reached for the nearby towel. “You did just get rearranged.”

You giggled, wincing slightly when you tried to move. Namjoon gently shushed you, cleaning you up with soft, careful touches. His eyes softened as he watched you, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your face.

“Rest, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

And you did—without a single complaint—because, really, after getting fucked that good, what else could you do?

Namjoon chuckled as you climbed onto him, your tiny body latching on like a determined little koala. He barely had time to settle against the pillows before you were smooshing her face right into his chest—burying yourself in his tiddies like they were your personal pillows.

He huffed, amused. “Comfortable?”

You let out a pleased little hum, rubbing your cheek against his warm skin. “Mhm. Very.”

Namjoon shook his head, wrapping his arms around you, his large hands rubbing up and down your back. You were so small compared to him, his shirt swallowing you whole. It was kind of adorable—annoyingly so.

“Feeling better?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded, sighing contentedly. “Mhm. You’re warm.”

Namjoon smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. Then, after a beat, “And your tiddies are great.”

He groaned, head thudding against the headboard. “Oh my god.”

You giggled against his chest, the sound so smug it made his ears burn. But he didn’t push you away. If anything, he held you closer, letting you cuddle up as much as you wanted—because, well...

You were his now.

And he wasn’t letting you go.

Namjoon felt his heart clench as you looked up at him with those big, expectant eyes, your lips brushing against his chest in the softest, sweetest kiss.

“I’m really happy you feel the same way, Joonie,” you murmured, your voice smaller than usual. “I was... worried you didn’t. That’s why I ignored you for two days.”

His brows furrowed, a pang of guilt hitting him square in the chest. “You—what?”

You pouted, rubbing slow circles over his pec absentmindedly. “I didn’t know if you liked me back. And if you didn’t, I was gonna have to move on, y’know?”

Namjoon stared at you, utterly baffled. “Are you serious? You thought I didn’t like you?”

You blinked up at him. “Well… yeah?”

He exhaled sharply, pressing a hand over his face. “Baby, I’ve been down bad for you.”

Your ears perked up. ��Wait—really?”

“Yes, really!” He groaned, sliding his hand down to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I literally lost my mind over you. I was suffering.”

You gasped, scandalized. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Namjoon gave you a flat look. “Says you, the one who ignored me for two days instead of talking to me.”

You opened your mouth to argue—then promptly shut it, realizing he had a point.

“…Fair,” you mumbled, sheepishly nuzzling back into his chest.

Namjoon sighed, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re a menace,” he muttered.

You grinned against his skin. “But I’m your menace now.”

He chuckled, hugging you tighter. “Yeah… you are.”

Namjoon nearly choked on air when you poked his chest, looking up at him with that mischievous glint in your eyes.

“So… when can we do it again?”

His face heated instantly. “What?”

You grinned, propping your chin on his chest. “I mean, I’m all stretched out now. I think I can finally ride you properly.”

Namjoon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “honey, give me five minutes to recover before you start planning round two.”

But you were relentless.

“Oh, oh! Or you could, like, manhandle me,” you continued excitedly, completely ignoring his suffering. “Maybe a full nelson or doggy—oh, you have to mount me at least once before my heat’s over!”

Namjoon felt his dick twitch, and he swore he saw his life flash before his eyes.

“And,” you added, dragging a finger down his chest, “you should let me actually suck you off properly this time. Y’know, since you were being a big ol’ meanie and stopped me.”

Namjoon exhaled sharply through his nose. “I stopped you because I was two seconds away from busting before we even started.”

You snickered. “So now you can last, right?”

Namjoon groaned. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You giggled, looking entirely too pleased with yourself—then tilted your head, suddenly thoughtful. “Oh! Wait—does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

Namjoon blinked. “I—”

You gasped dramatically. “Namjoon! Are you telling me you knotted me but you won’t date me?”

His jaw dropped. “I DIDN’T KNOT YOU—”

“Oh my God, you used me for sex—”

Namjoon grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks together to stop your nonsense. “I’m your boyfriend, you menace,” he grumbled.

You hummed happily, looking way too smug despite your squished cheeks. “Good. Now let’s talk about the full nelson.”

Namjoon let out the most suffering sigh.

[polar534]

I've been thinking about what after means for my Rook and Neve. Writing it out as an exercise more than anything. Then I remembered that before there was an after, there were two weeks of hell. Those two weeks sticking with Neve on some of her darkest nights even when after seems to finally stick.

Because of course there are nights where Rook is out late. That Neve's normal exhaustion from the cases she works during the day finally hits her shoulders. The weight of the never-ending work she puts in with the remaining members of the Veilguard to try and patch up the world left behind finally catching up to her. She passes out at her desk, not remembering where Rook said she'd be. She wakes to find herself alone...

And suddenly Neve is thrown right back to those two weeks of waiting in the Lighthouse. To the quiet aftermath of Tearstone Island.

Thrown back to the days with Emmrich consulting her on ways to narrow the search, his hair an absolute mess. Blood hastily wiped across his face, his cheek cut from the shaking of his hand as his razor reminds him just how uncertain he really is. Books tossed and piled high in his office, all dead ends. She hears Taash's rage, throwing furniture that always seemed to mend itself back together. Hears them roaring into the night, trying to get their voice to carry far enough for Rook to hear. To just find them already. Remembers Lucanis locking himself in his room, his eyes bloodshot from wrestling control between him and Spite. Both unable to do anything but wait. Both blaming themselves. His questions seem to echo her own. Why had Rook called out to him before she disappeared? He was right behind her. He was the closest. Why didn't he catch her before she fell?

She's brought back to Harding's quiet sobbing hiccups and the scout swiftly drying her eyes when she saw Neve approaching. Inexplicably trying to hold it together all for her sake. Even as reports came in from all over Northern Thedas. As the news breaks of the world to the South falling to the blight. The deafening silence coming out of Minrathous, from Dock Town, somehow echoing even louder than the world's cries for help.

She's brought back to the times she was asked to enter Bellara's room to find something. Maybe an artifact that Bel had been tinkering with would help. Of course Neve would find it, she understood Bel's system better than anyone else. Nevermind the fact that her hands shook as she picked it up. That the entire room felt wrong, and her stomach flipped to stand within it.

That unease never leaves her, even as her eyes are unable to look up at the decaying nest of feathers and fur that Assan had left behind in his favorite spot. Closing her eyes only makes her see Davrin. Makes her think of just how much she would give to hear his confidence one last time. To see the determination he carried in his shoulders with everything he did, inspiring the rest of them to keep going.

His never-ending faith in Rook.

The Grey Warden's oaths her uncle taught her echo in her head.

In death, sacrifice.

She's brought back to the nights where she shakily entered Rook's room, taking care to make sure no one else would see. Neve isn't one to hope for anything, she's played that game and lost too many times. But maybe, maybe she'd catch the world off-guard. That this nightmare would come to it's end and she'd walk in to see Rook, passed out on the couch in her room, snoring loudly enough to cause an echo down the hallway.

Telling herself she knew better when the room is empty, letting the door shut behind her and ignoring the frost gathering on the glass, preventing her from seeing the water beyond...

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

pez dispenser debris for the fic ask thing? 👀

As much as this is my “kill no darlings you will get EVERY flashback” fic, there’s overarching sociopolitical backstory explaining why Izuku and the rest of class 3A exploded in the public eye that I don’t think I’ll ever fully fit in.

It’s a combination of it being more of a meta analysis than anything and also requiring information from a perspective that I know will never appear in the fic. Like, the fic still gets the different moments that make up this analysis, but there’s no explicit connecting thread to show how they all locked together to create this sort of global cult following of class 3-A. I almost put in a little fake news article opinion piece that was meant to sort of walk the reader through why society is Like This, but I decided it was too heavy handed and deleted it.

Everything that I’m going to reference has already appeared in pez dispenser debris to some degree, and none of it will ever actually materially impact the plot. They may receive a little more detail down the line if they’re mentioned in passing in the fic, so out of an abundance of caution, I’ll stick it below the cut so people can avoid this, but I don’t personally consider any of this spoilers.

Izuku and the rest of the class are famous in pez dispenser debris in a way that’s pretty much unprecedented for students. Canonically, not even all might had a name for himself until after his graduation. Pretty much everyone from class 3A are public figures, with Izuku specifically being considered a major global figure.

In my mind, there was this perfect storm right during their second year that catapulted them into fame. The class personally has varying levels of awareness of why they got so popular, but there was this perfect cross winds of societal unrest and fear that made them household names.

There was an approximately one month span in their second year where they were just hit one after another with a major firestorms of events: The UA Sports Festival, the Sidekick Strike, and the Tartarus Prison Break/Desertion of Yokohama.

The UA Sports Festival is the one that the kids attribute this most to, because so many of the news articles that followed referenced their performance in it. But it probably gave them less mileage than what the other two events did.

What the UA Sports Festival did was showcase their skills to the world in a venue designed to show them off. The public was already on edge. All Might had retired, crime rates kept going up, and people were rapidly losing confidence in existing heroes. Class 2A made such an insane showing of skill in the second Sports Festival that it made the public rave about them for weeks after. It was extremely reassuring to Japan that they had such powerful heroes in the barrel and would soon be on the streets. But that attention probably would have died down had it not been for the Sidekick Strike and Yokohama.

The Sidekick Strike actually had nothing to do with them. But it undermined the public’s faith in heroes at just the right time.

The Sidekick Strike is just one of those things that I have no POV that would even tangentially be involved in it so we’ll get a few passing references in media clips and it’ll never be discussed in depth. Which is a shame because it’s such an interesting conflict to me.

The Sidekick Strike was heavily inspired by the 1919 Boston Police Strike. Effectively, it was the height of the labor rights movement, and police officers got together and went on strike to get the police union recognized. They had tried to negotiate and negotiations failed, and so they all walked off the job. The city descended into lawlessness, the national guard was deployed, it was a whole thing. Famously, Calvin Coolidge fired the entire police force over it on the grounds that there was no striking from public safety.

I thought it would be really interesting if there was something similar that happened with the sidekicks. The thing is that the heroics structure as it stands really incentivizes abuse towards sidekicks. We have a society where there’s a decent amount of heroes who are only in it for the fame. A not insignificant amount of money must come from marketing deals. And it’s a ranked system, so they’re all in competition with each other.

Heroes wouldn’t be incentivized to showcase their sidekicks—they’d be incentivized to take advantage of them and take credit for their work.

Like, think about the work-study experiences. Momo didn’t even officially work for the hero she studied with. She wasn’t getting paid. An adult woman used her for a shampoo ad. Who wants to bet whether Momo saw a dime from it? It’s probably very predatory because the nature of the system incentivizes predation.

I thought the underlying legal issues would be interesting and complex. Who owns a sidekick’s image—the agency or the individual? Who gets the proceeds of their brand deals? This all would be governed by their employment contracts, and sidekicks just starting out have very little leverage compared to big name heroes. And those heroes would want to keep their sidekicks names small and theirs big. The rankings are competitive, after all.

It’s a situation where I do think that like. The sidekicks would have a point in unionizing. The use of their image, appropriate compensation, and proper credit for their busts would all be like, very legitimate concerns in a normal employment context.

I see agencies like Idaten settling immediately with the union and having their sidekicks back on the street before the day is out. In my mind, idaten is considered the gold standard for sidekick jobs already, and their employees mostly did it out of solidarity with the people they worked alongside of. Like, Idaten was already doing most of the union’s demands and signed off very quickly on the remaining ones. If it was just about the Idaten sidekicks, none of them would have gone on strike, but they had a lot of colleagues who they depended on in the field who were in terrible situations. What were they gonna say, sorry, sucks to be you, I got a great gig though so condolences? These were the people keeping them alive. They went on strike because they knew Idaten would publicly settle before the day was out and set an example for the rest of the agencies. Hopefully it would help other agencies follow their lead.

But that didn’t happen. Some agencies, like Endeavor’s, fired everyone immediately. And I think a lot of agencies spent a long time picking over every line item in prolonged negotiations. It dragged out.

And that went over fucking terribly.

All Might just retired. Crime is up. And their sworn defenders are bickering over who gets what cut of the action figure line. Like I think the public would have fucking hated this in a post-All Might world. It would have seemed like the only real hero just medically and irreversibly retired and the rest of them are squabbling about whose turn it is in the spotlight.

I also think that the villains would have taken advantage of it.

The Tartarus Prison Break in pez isn’t the one that happened in canon. Here, the League of Villains attacked Tartarus and set everyone loose. In the process, they made a very clear stance: they are going to leave with All for One, and they are not going to attack any civilians. They won’t fight at all unless attacked first.

All of the horrible and sadistic villains they just let go have not made the same promise.

They chose to do this now because of the Sidekick Strike. All their heroes don’t give a fuck about protecting them, so they’re strapped for staffing. So they’re taking back their leader and going back to ground, and the heroes are free to immediately go after and contain all those bad bad villains who just escaped. And those guys are headed to the heavily populated mainland, so better be quick.

The whole world knew that was their explicit reasoning and promise. Because Himiko fucking lived tweeted the escape.

The Sidekick Strike took the hit for a lot of the blame, but I do see all the sidekicks breaking strike lines to go respond to the crisis. But response times were severely handicapped by the fact that most if not all of them were cut off from their agencies. It was just a complete systemic breakdown.

And then there became the question of what crisis do you respond to: All for One’s escape, or everyone else’s?

I mentioned in one of the little fake tumblr posts that the Tartarus Prison Break was seen as Endeavor’s greatest failure. And part of that is because he chose to sacrifice the nearby area, Yokohama, to contain All for One.

I am one of the biggest haters of Endeavor’s later arc, specifically because it required going back on the nature of the abuse he had subjected his family to that was already established in canon, but that’s a different rant. This is not canon endeavor. I hate what they did with canon endeavor.

That being said, I do think that the self doubt weighed on him once he became number one. And this was the moment of his career where it really crushed him.

All for One had escaped. So had every other villain from Tartarus. He should go after the most immediate threats. He knew this. It was basic triage.

But they would never have a better chance to stop All for One.

Prisoners in Tartarus aren’t exactly hitting all their macros and micros or training daily. They are not adherents to the Bakugou Katsuki Fitness Lifestyle. All for One was coming off spending the last few months drugged up to his eyeballs and strapped to a chair in a straitjacket with at least fifty guns pointed at him at all times. The man has not scratched his own nose in weeks. He’s weaker now than he’ll ever be again.

It was their best chance.

If he escaped, and he went back to ground, he’d have the time and space to get as strong as he wanted, and then he’d come back for real. And he’d be coming back for everything.

Stopping him the first time had cost them All Might.

And Endeavor simply was not All Might. And he still wouldn’t be All Might when the next fight came.

It really was the hardest decision of Endeavor’s life. He had to admit to himself that his own inadequacy was going to cost them countless lives. But he thought it was a hard decision he had to make. He was losing the battle for the barest chance at winning the war.

So he made the call that all heroes were to respond to All for One. They had to hit the league of villains now with their full force if they were to stand a chance. They could not afford to divide their already sparse forces. They’d respond to Yokohama when AfO was contained.

He was also the one who made the call to broadcast the warning message that we hear in the Twitter post. He thought it would give civilians their best chance. He didn’t want them to act with the expectation of the heroes being en route.

Of course, that meant that the entire city got fucking sirens going off and a message telling them that the heroes were not going to save them. Which, as you can expect, did not do a lot for public morale.

In my head, Tartarus is like, the equivalent to Gotham’s Arkham. It’s borderline an institute for the criminally insane. You don’t end up there unless you did something super fucked, are super dangerous, and have extreme violent tendencies. It’s exclusively for the most dangerous and indiscriminately violent criminals in the country.

The entire world was watching in real time while the tragedy unfolded. A lot of people were livestreaming after the emergency broadcast dropped, because they didn’t want the government to be able to handwave away how terrible their death was, or because they didn’t know what else to do, or because they just didn’t want to be alone. The full expectation was that it’d be a massacre.

But it wasn’t. Because Class 2-A responded instead.

The Class 2-A defensive efforts were discussed in one of the silly little fake tumblr posts and in the fake twitter post. In those, we find out that 1) Class 2-A, along with Lemillion, Suneater, and Nejire responded to the scene; 2) the entire class rolled out of Mirio’s fucking mom van and tamaki and nejire’s cars like they were fucking clown cars; 3) the HPSC claimed it was a legitimate operation blessed and coordinated by them; and 4) a lot of people think this was a lie, in part because videos leaked of Aizawa bitching them all out in the street afterwards. We also see Izuku’s green lightning at the end of the twitter video, showing him responding to the scene just as the first villains hit the mainland.

This fight has a lot of names in the backstory that lives in my head. It’s called the Tartarus Prison Break for obvious reasons. It’s also been called in some circles the Desertion of Yokohama, because of the call Endeavor made.

But it’s also called the Battle of Yokohoma. And it’s ranked alongside the Battle of Kamino as one of the finest acts of modern day heroics. And that’s because of Class 2-A. If it hadn’t been for them showing up, it would have gone down in history as the Massacre of Yokohama.

Like. It kills me that I can’t include the full details of what happened, but there’s just too much to make in a flashback. It’s a fic in and of itself. But it really was the fight that made Class 2-A.

It was the first fight where they were really the only heroes that could be counted on. Granted, they’d had to fight for their lives alone, but this wasn’t just their lives. These were thousands of terrified civilians who all thought they were going to die.

It was the first true test of them as heroes in the world. And they actually rose to the occasion. They didn’t just fight the villains—they realized that they needed to get emergency services working throughout the city if everyone was going to make it. Momo and Tsuyu conducted a mildly hostile take over of the emergency call center so they could coordinate relief. They had fucking Tokoyami and Dark Shadow single-handedly holding the line on the hospital while Kaminari, Shoji, Jiro, and Sato all learned to drive for the Very First Time while commandeering the city’s fucking ambulances. They were fighting and containing villains, performing emergency aid, putting out literal fires, everything. It was the hardest fight of their lives.

There was a hot second where Class 2-A was The Moment. Like. The entire world was watching them during this fight, and they had no fucking idea until it was over. People lost their minds when the first footage made it out of Yokohama of a bunch of teenagers showing up and immediately throwing hands with S-Class villains.

It was global news. Think of the kind of media attention that was received by the search for the Titan, the Tham Luang Cave Rescue, the Suez Canal getting blocked by the Ever Given (rip queen you will always be famous to me), that kind of thing. Class 2-A was fighting for their fucking lives and then found out three days later while they were all still in the hospital that there was a prayer vigil going on in Portugal for them during the battle and CNN had 24 hours live coverage of the fight that had so many viewers it outnumbered the population of Finland. Like what do you even do with that information.

The world expected a massacre. They didn’t expect a bunch of footage of high schoolers kicking the shit out of superpowered murders and personally ferrying the injured to the hospitals they were also defending.

The other part about this fight that really made them permanently part of the public consciousness is that it was not lost on everyone that every single person who responded to that fight did so at the risk of their license.

All of them had provisional licenses, save Lemillion, Suneater, and Nejire, all of whom went AWOL from the explicit directives ordering them to respond to the fight against All for One. The operation could not have been less authorized. They had to steal their gear and jimmy the UA fence to even get out. The explicit plan was to steal one of the UA buses and have Bakugou fucking drive them to the fight (he also did not know how to drive but he seemed the most likely of them to break literally every single motor vehicle code to get them there but still be naturally talented at it enough to not kill them) but Izuku told Mirio what bullshit they were up to and Mirio, who was with Tamaki and Nejire when the news broke, immediately decided he would be on that bullshit too and pulled up in his mom van.

In my mind, there were strict rules around provisional licenses and how they could be used, and they broke pretty much all of them to respond to Yokohama. It would have been grounds to revoke their provisionals and permanently bar them from heroics. Lemillion, Suneater, and Nejire could have all lost their licenses for helping them and for going AWOL.

The HPSC fucking fell over themselves to legitimatize the entire operation. They knew they were utterly fucked if they didn’t. These kids already had murals being painted of their faces in other fucking countries. There was a little old lady in Kyoto livestreaming herself working overtime to embroider Iida’s face onto a cushion because that lovely young man saved her darling granddaughter from *checks notes* horrible and painful death directly caused by the failings of the current HPSC administration. There were multiple trending posts online agreeing to fucking riot if those kids got in trouble for this.

Every single actual hero in the immediate vicinity of this disaster had responded to fight a villain who wasn’t actually attacking anyone. And then they fucking lost. They publicly broadcast a message saying Good Luck Champs Because We’re Not Going To Save You. It was an actual PR nightmare that they had a bare chance of salvaging if they just latched onto these kids like an aggressive parasite and that is exactly what they did.

They totally knew. Actually, it was a joint operation coordinated by and between UA and and the HPSC. Why would the kids be in trouble?? They had responded because the HPSC told them to.

UA gave it a week of dead silence and then issued a short statement praising the bravery of their students in a recent HPSC approved mission, and then they never said another word about it. They didn’t have any choice but to go along with the HPSC’s story. If they contradicted them, all of class 2-a would find their licenses pulled by the end of the day, and lord knows they wouldn’t wait for the court of public opinion to work its magic and would just all go out and become fucking vigilantes, because why not. Aizawa has aged 100 years since he got this class. Every single day he thinks of how it was a 50/50 shot between him and Vlad.

No one in the class is fully aware of just how famous they were in the immediate aftermath, because the school bent over backwards to try and shield them from it as much as possible. Like, they have an idea, but none of them saw the full explosion firsthand because of just how hard the school worked to keep it from them. Aizawa confiscated the internet router and told them it was punishment for whatever the fuck they did to the buses (thank god Mirio was just as crazy as them because they were NOT GOOD at hotwiring cars) but really it was to try and insulate them from it a little bit. Like. Japan’s Imperial Family wanted to do an official visit. The White House offered to host them. They received interview requests from every major talk show on the planet. Buzzfeed wanted to do a puppy interview with them.

Right now, Aizawa’s terrified for Midoriya’s graduation, but in the aftermath of that, he was breathing into a paper bag about all of them. Society had sort of latched onto them like they were the last life raft on the titanic. All for One was back, and All Might wasn’t, and the heroes had publicly broadcast a message saying they were useless, but don’t fucking worry, fifteen year old Iida Tenya is on the case. Society will be upheld by Kaminari Denki, currently viral for driving a real life city ambulance one hundred miles per hour down the street while screaming “WEE WOO BITCH.” And don’t forget the pillar that will be Mina Ashido, who rushed over to him earlier that day to show him her extra sparkly pink nails. And if you have a major fight that needs to be won? Don’t fucking worry, just send out bone-breaking boy wonder Midoriya Izuku and his equally reckless brother Toogata Mirio, because their dumbasses managed to take down an S-Class villain team that only All Might could defeat the first time around. Don’t worry about the multi week hospitalization they needed after, because that’s an acceptable burden to put on children.

When Aizawa started this job, he promised himself he would never send a student out to die. Some of them would die. But it would be tragedy, not damnation. He’d have given them their best chance. Part of the reason why he made that promise was because he sort of felt like his teacher sent him out set up to die, and it’s only luck that he made it through his first couple of years.

He has gone to the funeral of every single student he has ever had who did not make it. He goes back to their graves every year.

He was fucking petrified after Yokohama that society would push these kids too far too soon. Every single one of his classes before them had gotten the benefit of being practically unknown their first few years. They didn’t have the world talking about them like they were already the top heroes. He was terrified they wouldn’t have the space to learn and grow when they started.

A lot of teachers would have tried to mine the notoriety of Yokohama to hard launch their students’ careers. Aizawa told Nedzu point blank that he would quit tomorrow if he did not help him quash this thing as much as possible, and nedzu agreed.

This world killed its real heroes. It sucked them dry and left them like All Might, and he just needed fucking time. He needed fucking time to let them be kids and maybe they’d survive.

Izuku ended up being the one who escaped the aftermath of everything the least. His Quirk was too much like All Might’s for the world to let go of him easily.

And then Stain got fucking dogpiled by idaten in the aftermath of the Tartarus prison break and implied he considered Izuku the only true hero in the absence of all might and everyone started asking super inconvenient questions like “how does stain even know you exist” and “no really he called you by your actual legal name how does he even know that” and it just. It didn’t help things. Izuku’s suffering.

So yeah. There was just this absolute collision of a total lack of faith in current heroes combined with a huge swell of public trust in class 2-a that led us to being in the landscape we are now. All of the currently licensed heroes said that they wouldn’t be there to save the public, and then Class 2-A immediately hit back that they would be there. Actually, they’ll risk everything to be there. They’ll die to protect the public and they’ll risk the entire future they had been trying to build and they will fucking be there to save them.

There’s a lot of people that never forgave the heroes for deserting Yokohama. And there’s even more people who have absolute faith in Izuku and his classmates because they didn’t. That’s why the world is watching them so aggressively. These kids are the most trusted heroes in Japan right now.

I wish I could fit in more about what happened, because I love this backstory so much, but 1) some of it absolutely requires POVs like Endeavors, which we won’t get in pez dispenser debris, 2) there’s no one POV that could tell the full story via flashback and 3) it’d just be too long of a divergence. Like. It really is a whole fic of its own. I’d love to write it one day but I probably won’t have the time

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[nostalgia-tblr]

i nearly anon'd the thorki non-con fic out of SHAME but in two weeks it's become my third most clicked-on fic of the year, behind only a multichapter fic and a bit of angsty sifki porn lololol

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[catcatb0y]

Every time Helluva Boss or Hazbin Hotel has a glimpse of genuinely GOOD WRITING, I go insane. Both of these shows feel like edging to me, like they will tease me with these bangers and then leave me to dry EVERY DAMN TIME.

[thedrotter]

sweet sweet re:kinder community... I would like to ask y'all how you came upon the game and your experiences with it because i wanna know. im genuinely so curious to hear about other people's experiences and little opinions about this game because of how wild the game is (/pos) I'd love to hear it. do ramble to me about it

[shield-and-saber]

yeah, so i just finished cataclysm

[inbabylontheywept]

i once accidentally dated someone for a few months. its very difficult to explain how this happened, but the gist is that i thought we were hanging out, and she thought we were on dates, and it was just a very painfully highschool thing.

she was a little bit confused that i hadnt tried to pull any moves, at all, even a little. like, didnt even try holding hands because, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating.

so, halloween rolled around, and she thought, you know, why wait for destiny, when you can grab it? so she hit me with a clue by four.

babylon, she said. babylon. my mom's gonna be out of town on halloween, and im gonna have the house to myself, and it's going to be kind of lonely. would you like to come to my house and watch scary movies with me?

you know, kind of a netflix and chill thing. except, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating. also autism. so i took it at face value and said: oh! yeah! thatd be fun! and she thought she got her point across, but she didnt and it was a mess.

skip forward to halloween: my family has a block party every year, right? and at that point i was too old to really trick or treat, but we still wore costumes for our role in the block party, which in my case, was handing out cotton candy. so i took the first shift, and my costume was this homemade abomination minion thing. i had full yellow body paint, and goggles, and a bald cap, and overalls. the kids who saw it were like, uh, hm. overly realistic minion. and adults were like, oh, some kind of hills have eyes hillbilly with jaundice. very scary.

(it was not my best costume.)

my little brother swapped me out for second shift, and i was getting ready to change out to head to her house when i was like: no, she'll get a real kick out of this. this is one of the worst things i have ever worn. so i kept it on and just brought a change of clothes thinking i could shower real quick and change at her place after she saw my nightmare getup.

so i left after that, got there, knocked on her door, and she said come on in. so i went in, and there was this very long hall with an abrupt right turn into her living room where the tv was, and i went down the hall, and i made the turn, and my field of view went from beige drywal to her, on the couch, naked. naked in the paint me like one of your french girls pose. super naked.

i panicked. this was my first time seeing a real person like, full on sex naked,which is a totally different beast from other kinds of naked. you see one kind of naked and you think yeah, im ready for all the kinds of naked, but you arent. i wasnt at least. i really wasn't.

so my brain crashed to BIOS. she also crashed to BIOS, but for different reasons. of all the ways this could have turned me, having me show up in yellow body paint and overalls was pretty pretty low down the list.

so we sat there a while, and you know, she wasn't getting any less naked, which really wasn't helping me get my brain sorted out. it really wasnt much of a surprise when she got her bearings first and started asking questions.

"babylon," she said. "babylon. what are you wearing?"

and i was like, kind of rebooted, but i was nowhere near full functionality, so symbolic language wasnt loaded in yet. i had nothing running but my trusty autism.exe, so i said

"overalls"

and she looked at me like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked at her like she was the first naked person i had seen in real life who got naked specifically for me, and my upper level cognitive process went: "listen man, we are not going to get our shit together as long as 80% of your brain power is devoted to not blinking. you gotta get out of here."

and if id communicated that, maybe things would have been less of a mess, but instead i just kind of turned around and walked back to my car. i figured i could drive a few loops around the block, get my brain in order, and figure out what the hell we were gonna do.

the only thing i had said to her since arriving was, again, overalls.

first loop around, i was like: oh god fucking damnit. oh shit. oh shit. shes gonna get like, an eating disorder from this. oh no.

second loop around i was like: oh NOOOOO oh WHAT THE FUCK oh SWEET JESUS PLEASE. i dont wanna go back man. i just wanna bury this and forget about it. please. please. let this bitter cup pass from my lips.

and after my third loop, i went and i knocked on her door again.

she answered it this time, and i counted my lucky stars that she'd changed into some pajamas. she was all teary eyed which was the saddest thing ever, and we sat down in her kitchen and talked. it was pretty bad - i figured out we'd been dating, and she figured out that trying to jump from home plate to 3rd base is considered ballsy in baseball, least of all dating. no real winners there. and i can remember after all that, we sat there a bit a bit longer, just steadying ourselves, and i was like "well, im actually really glad we figured that out. guess i'll see you at school tomorow' and she said "WAIT. wait."

"lets watch shrek 2."

so we did and it was horrible. we did not look at each other. we did not say a word. we just sat in stony silence, while shrek 2 played in the background, and when it was done we shook hands. i think we might have been able to salvage that as a friendship if it hadnt been for shrek. as it was she turned white as a sheet and ran away every time she even got a glimpse of me at school, and that summer she moved to a new state to live with her dad. all her friends said she moved just so she wouldn't have to go to school with me anymore, and i dont actually think they were lying.

every time i hear relationship counselors talk about how important communication is, and i'm tempted to roll my eyes, i look back and go, alright. alright. theres probably some poor bastard, somewhere in the world, who doesnt even know that hes married.

and god help him when he figures it out.

other bad dating story here.

[sweetteaanddragons]

I have been thinking lately about a universe where Bruce Wayne killed the Joker.

I want to be clear here, since there are so many longstanding debates on this topic: I do not think Bruce Wayne should kill the Joker. I have just been wondering what would happen if the circumstances aligned in such a way that he did.

And to be clear on a related, yet slightly different topic: when I say I have been wondering about what if Bruce Wayne killed the Joker, I do not mean as the Batman. I mean Bruce "Brucie" Wayne.

Maybe it's kind of an accident? Like, he definitely did intend to hit the Joker, but he's Brucie right now, so he's trying not to look like he knows what he's doing while still doing enough damage to keep the Joker from killing someone, and meanwhile the Joker makes just the wrong move and -

And here we are. Brucie just killed the Joker.

Bruce's reaction here is one thing; he has his one rule for a reason, he's just broken it, he's determined to turn himself in -

His family's reaction is a whole different story. How does Cass feel about this?

How does Jason? Bruce has killed the Joker, just like he wanted, but it wasn't for him, not really, and -

And meanwhile, this happens in front of, say, a gala full of people, so now all of Gotham gets to react to it too.

Average Gothamite, seeing the words BRUCE WAYNE, JOKER, and KILLED in the same headline: OH, NO.

Average Gothamite, once they've processed the order those words are actually in: . . . I did not have that on this year's bingo card.

The city's most famous mass murderer has just been publicly killed by the city's biggest employer/philanthropist/source of tabloid harmless nonsense! Three days before Brucie was making tabloid headlines by tripping into a fountain and somehow losing his shirt in the process! Two weeks before, the newspaper was running a retrospective on the Wayne murders and what donation Brucie was making to help the families of victims this year! The article mentioned how one of his adopted sons had also tragically become a murder victim!

Now this has happened, and Bruce is having a breakdown over breaking his one rule, and the rest of Gotham just assumes that this is because poor Brucie thinks this somehow makes him like the man who killed his parents. They send a huge outpouring of support his way. This in no way helps Bruce's actual breakdown.

Ninety percent of Gotham is sure Brucie didn't actually mean to kill the Joker, and pretty much a hundred percent of them support him whether he meant to do it or not. No one wants to have anything to do with prosecuting this mess. Bruce is trying to make it as clear as possible that he will fully cooperate with the justice system and meanwhile an entire gala full of people is suddenly acting like they could in no way have possibly witnessed events that took place ten feet in front of their faces. Did Bruce kill the Joker? Is the officer sure? That doesn't seem like him. Maybe the Joker just tripped on his own. Marble floors, you know. Very slippery.

[transmasc-tabris]

More screenshots (bonus, managed to find Bull a shirt and don't know how to feel about that)

[photomatt]

You gonna do anything or make any statement about the rampant transmisogyny on this hellsite, especially in cases like predstrogen recently? Or yall gonna stay silent and keep letting/making us get pushed off of it.

I have a number of asks about this, so this is to address all of them, I won't do each individually.

We generally do not comment on individual cases, but because there seems to be mass misinformation around this, I will make an exception and comment on predstrogen.

First, Tumblr has a number of LGBT+ including trans people on staff, and they see things from the inside fully, and they're not protesting this case.

Why do we wrongly have a transphobe reputation? We did have an external contract moderator last year that was making transphobic moderation (and also selling moderation, criminally). As soon as we were aware that person was fired, and we later terminated the entire relationship with that contracting firm and have brought almost everything in-house (at great cost). I have previously commented on this publicly, several times.

I am not aware of any Automattician (people who work at Automattic and Tumblr) who has made any transphobic moderation actions. If it's reported it is investigated immediately, if anything were found that person would be terminated for cause immediately.

Predstrogen's account was suspended for:

Repeated mis-tagging of adult content against Tumblr's community guidelines. This has nothing to do with clothed transition photos, she had 20+ other blogs and multiple accounts with names so explicit I can't post them here without a mature tag.

Multiple cases of harassment of other Tumblr users, not just me.

Multiple threats of violence, not just the one I share below.

These represent a breach of our Terms of Service, and we've exercised our right to refuse service.

Threats of violence are never okay. Threats of violence are not protected speech. We will work with police and FBI where appropriate, though to be clear prestrogen's case hasn't warranted that so far. I'm referring to what we may potentially do for other threats. I just got a death threat yesterday from someone mad about predstrogen, and that account was immediately terminated.

So regardless of whether you still think Tumblr staff is somehow a bunch of transphobes, know that threats of violence or death are still not acceptable and will result in immediate and serious action. Know that when you rile people up, they can do dumb things with possibly permanent consequences.

(2 hours later update: I have changed instances of the pronoun "they" or "their" to "the account" because I am unaware of pronoun preference in this instance and don't want to misgender anyone. Thank you for the people who reported this as an issue. Update 2: "She" is apparently better, the post now says that. Sorry for the mistake.)

Here's one (of many!) examples of the harassment violations, this one targets me but there are others targeting other users on the site.

The second part seems to indicate she wanted to be suspended, I'm unaware of why, perhaps to create this sort of uproar. I agree the hammers feel silly, but the start, "i hope photomatt dies forever a painful death" is a violation of Tumblr's community guidelines and terms of service.

The car part did hit close to home as I have almost died twice in car accidents.

Update 2: Added this text to the adult content part: This has nothing to do with clothed transition photos, she had 20+ other blogs and multiple accounts with names so explicit I can't post them here without a mature tag.