#I don't know if that happens to anyone else

[chungledown-bimothy]

At first I was just gonna ignore this, because it absolutely did not pass the vibe check from the jump, but I realized that that's an equally unproductive kneejerk reaction.

So I went down the rabbit hole on this one. I checked out every blog I could find that seemed to know what's going on, and the information is unreliable and vague.

The only "source" I've been able to find is this low-quality screenshot of a discord message with absolutely no information in the picture itself indicating where it's from. They claim that it was posted in the Wrong Organ (game dev for Mouthwashing) discord server, and a friend who is in said server sent the screenshot to them:

Who is lmao? Is there any indication that anyone's actually going to listen to them, let alone en masse like people seem to think? Who is the friend, and do they or the person who initially posted it have motivation to lie?

God knows I don't listen to every post in discord servers that tags everyone, and I'm sure that's a far from unique experience.

I saw some people on Reddit saying that the tags had been flooded with horrible shit a while back, which does in fact suck, but from what I could tell, it seems like one asshole with a handful of burners, and I couldn't find any indication of asks being sent.

I found absolutely no proof or even mention that stardew valley or any other fandom tags were impacted by this outside of the post screenshotted in the ask. The poster of which admits to not really knowing anything solidly.

What happened before was horrible. I'm not downplaying that. But there is not even a single shred of reliable information indicating that anything is going to happen in a couple of days.

If there really was a plan cooking on discord, is it really at all plausible that no one else is providing any sort of evidence? I've looked through multiple posts with 3-5 digit numbers of posts about this, and I haven't seen a single person give any corroborating evidence, anecdotal or not, not even through-the-grapevine rumors.

I've been here a very long time. I've seen this song and dance many times before. I recall it not being fake exactly once, with 4chan in 2014. I do not go to Mouthwashing or any Wrong Organ games, but I'd bet pretty heavily that they don't have the numbers that 2014 4chan did.

It was much easier to post, well, everything, back in those days, and even then, the bark was orders of magnitude worse than the bite.

I could be wrong, and I'm not saying don't take precautions if you feel the need to, but the seemingly mindless parroting of vague and unreliable information, in some cases elevating it to "it could happen to ANYONE!!!!!", reeks of overblown hysteria.

If it's not real (which I vehemently believe to be the case), this is just causing a lot of unnecessary distress. If it is, this amplification and panic is exactly what they're looking to accomplish. If the scope of the past events is anything to go by, it's far more effective than what they could do with the very small group, if it is even more than one person, they had/have.

Hello dear!

Sorry for bothering you, but it's important to remind you to turn off your asks for a few days! Bad things are going to happen on Tumblr soon...

Don t know anything about this but BETTER BE SAFE EVERYBODY!!!!!!

[axolotl4days]

Batfam au angst :) also leading into (platonic) yandere batfam

What if Jason wasn't the first kid to die :)

And what if Damian wasn't Bruce's only biological kid :)

Au idea I'm simple terms: what if Bruce had a daughter in his early years of batman, who went missing and dead, but then years later reappeared and was found again, Bruce and the others won't make the same mistake twice.

Author's note before reading: Please keep in mind I'm new to this fandom, so I don't know much about what's canon. I simply get creative ideas really easily and have decided to share them.

If anyone else likes this idea, feel free to rewrite or add onto the concept, if you do please tag me I'd love to see what others do with this concept

I'm picturing reader to be the same age as or potentially slightly younger than Damian, but no specific ages are mentioned

Damian POV:

It was a day like any other, awful, Damian had to go to school. He didn't hate school, just the people there, loud, annoying, nosy.

He went about his day the same as always, reading in class and working on his work, until suddenly the principle came to class abruptly saying they had a new student, which the teacher promptly assigned to sit next to Damian. Great.

The teacher also informed him that he would be the one to show this new student around. So Damian braced himself for the extra annoying questions about him and his family, after all that's what people always want to know.

But to his suprised? This girl didn't care about any of that, simply asking questions about the class and school. She didn't even ask if he was really a Wayne, she looked a bit suprised but it wasn't the usual suprise most people had, and she didn't ask him any questions about it so it didn't matter.

As he showed her around he found out that they had the same classes, he heard her sigh of relief, but when questioned she said she was glad because it ment she wouldn't be alone in any of her classes and she'd have someone to turn to.

As the day went on they would go to class and work on classwork, it seems his new classmate was a lot smarter than the rest of them and he didn't have to constantly help her with work.

At the end of the day he made a mental note of a new acquaintance.

Later that day

"Ah, Master Damian, welcome back. How was your day at school?" Alfred asked, greeting the young boy

"It was alright Pennyworth, we had a transfer student today, but she seemed to be quite intelligent unlike the rest of those peasants" Damian replied

"Oh? A transfer student? In the middle of the school year? How odd."

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior, but there wasn't anything out of the ordinary, her name is Y/n." Damian said, but after saying her name he noticed Alfred looked pale

"Pennyworth? Are you feeling ill? Do I need to inform father?" Damian asked

"No no, I'm quite alright, it's just, I... used to know someone with that name, so I was suprised to hear it. That's all." Alfred replied, but he still looked pale

"If you say so. I'm going to head to my room and work on schoolwork before it's time for patrol" Damian said, and he was gone without another word

Alfred's POV:

'Calm yourself Alfred. It's a normal name that anyone could have, besides, it's been 20 years. Even if it was her she wouldn't be part of the young masters class. Still... I should inform Master Bruce, incase he mentions this classmate' Alfred thinks to himself before heading to the batcave.

There he finds both Bruce and Tim, working on the computer, searching for sightings of criminal activity, recently rumors of a new villain with unknown powers had started to arise, so it was the batman's job to keep Gotham safe

"Ahem, apologies for interrupting, but I need to borrow Master Bruce for a moment" Alfred says

"Did something happen Alfred?" Bruce asks

"No, not necessarily, it's nothing serious but we need to talk" Alfred replies

Bruce gets up and follows Alfred out of the room

"What is it Alfred? You look like you've seen a ghost." Bruce states

"Apologies Sir, as I said, it's nothing serious, however Damian informed me of a new classmate at school today" Alfred starts

"In the middle of the year?" Bruce comments

"That's what I said, however that isn't the point, I simply wanted to let you know before hand, incase the young master mentions this classmate infront of you.." Alfred pauses

"That's it? Why would you need to inform me of that" Bruce asks confused

"Well you see. He said that her name was... Y/n" Alfred states, and Bruce becomes just as pale as he is

"I see.... did Damian tell you anything else about this.... classmate?" Bruce asks

"No, he did not. But simply stated he'd keep an eye out for anything suspicious." Alfred said

"I understand." Bruce said with a deep sigh

"Are you alright Master Bruce? I know it's been a long time but-"

"I'm fine Alfred. I just... I'm fine. I need to head back to work now, we still don't know what this new villain is capable of, or what they're after." Bruce says, turning away

"Alright sir, if you insist. Please take care of yourself."

Alfred says, but he knows how Bruce is

The patrol went on as normal, and so did school. Nothing particularly interesting happened it was a week like any other, Damian and y/n would work on schoolwork together during breaks, since y/n joined late she had a lot of work to catch up on but she didn't have much trouble and Damian helped her when she did. The two had even become friends, turns out they had a lot in common, and some classmates tried to joke about how they were like siblings, but the two didn't mind. The jokes did make Damian aware of how... familiar y/n looked. He pondered the idea of her being a child from a one night stand, but the timelines didn't match up so he brushed the thought away, thinking it was a coincidence that she looked so much like Bruce. But nothing out of the ordinary happened of note, not until one fateful patrol where Damian made a discovery

Y/n POV:

Y/n didn't know where to go after waking up again, it was clear so many things have changed, and her dad taught her well. She needed more information before she made any decisions.

Unfortunately this ment she had no place to stay. After all, she couldn't go to an orphanage, she wasn't an orphan and she didn't have any documents or a story on where she came from. She knew better than to go to the police, what would she even say to them? So here she was. Sitting under a bridge hoping she won't get sick. But she was strong, she'd do what she'd have to in order to understand the situation better. Even if that means sleeping under a bridge like a troll, even if it means only eating the food provided by the school, even if it means-

"Hello there. Are you alright?" A voice asked making her jump

She turns to see, some sort of vigilante. She had heard in passing about how her dad Batman wasn't the only vigilante in Gotham anymore, so she figured it was one of them

"Oh um, I'm alright" she replied, she hadn't planned to meet any of them, she knew she might meet batman, which she kind of hoped for because then she could get some answers, but this was new territory this was- wait a minute why does he kind of look like Damian?

"Are you sure? Your sitting underneath a bridge at night, kids shouldn't be out here like this you could get hurt. Or worse. Why aren't you with your parents?" The vigilante (Damian) said, after recognizing his classmate, assessing the situation

"It's... complicated" y/n replies, before wondering how much she should tell him "I... can't really talk about it, but I can't go back home.. not yet at least, and I don't have anywhere else to go, so I've just been here" she states, hoping she didn't say to much

The vigilante just stays there for a moment, not saying anything, and she wonders if she said to much or if he thinks she's a criminal

"I see. In any case, you shouldn't be out here alone, the streets of Gotham aren't safe, however if you insist on staying out here may I suggest somewhere that isn't so easily spotted? You wouldn't want to be attacked. I know a few places that are safer than.. this" The vigilante says offering a hand

"Oh, uhm" y/n thinks for a moment, weighing her options "I'll take you up on that offer, it's not great down here" y/n replies, taking his hand

The two go to a more remote, slightly cleaner area

"Here we are, even if it's temporary this would be a better place for a shelter than where you were before. I don't know what's going on, but if you need assistance, im willing to help" the vigilante replies

"Thank you, you've really been more than enough help and I appreciate it a lot. If I need anything il let you know....."

"... Robin. My name is Robin." Robin says, noticing her pause

"Robin... thank you for the help, good luck with the rest of your patrol" y/n says

"Of course, you be careful now, always keep an eye out." Robin says, before leaving

'Phew.... he's gone. That was definitely him, and he definitely recognized me. Now what. He didn't say anything so they're definitely still doing the secret identity thing. I guess I'll just have to play it cool and hope he doesn't say anything at school. If any of the teachers find out I'm definitely gonna get investigated and then my whole plan will be thrown out the window.' Y/n thinks to herself 'Maybe this is a good thing, if he's Robin, it's likely that dad's still Batman too, which means I might run into him. What if he doesn't recognized me? What if he does recognize me?? What if- what if he didn't miss me.... no, no! This is dad, of course he missed me but it's been... so long... what do I do if he doesn't want me back...' y/n starts to worry about before she falls to the floor and starts to cry

Which, unbeknownst to her, Damian saw, he doesn't know why she's crying or why it makes him feel so... protective but he knows somethings up, so he goes off and reports what he knows to Batman

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aaaaand cliffhanger! Mwahahahaha

I would have kept going, and I know exactly what's coming next, but I've been typing for awhile and I have no idea how long this post is, and I don't want it to be too long

So I'm stopping it there,

This wasn't supposed to be this much but my creative brain decided to run with this idea, so there's gonna be a part 2 soon

Also I've decided to call this au

Batman Dead Daughter Au

Because.... idk what else to call it and if I'm gonna make a part 2 and potentially more depending on how this goes, I'm gonna need something to refer to it with.

As I said before, I'm extremely new to the batman stuff

Pretty much all of my knowledge comes from youtube and tumblr, so bare with me if things are out of character

I've also never written fanfiction before, it's always just been in my head, so the writing is probably a bit funny

Yes I'm a writer in the making but I haven't actually gotten to the writing part

And fanfiction is a bit different

Hope yall like the concept tho

Again, feel free to write your own version of this if you want to, just tag me so I can read it too lol

[kumkaniudaku]

Caught

Summary: When their guest is away, Terry and Patrice will play.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,067

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Recommended Reading: Spoiled

Author's Note: Spoiled, Back Up, and Caught all happen on the same linear timeline. Consider them present day events. Hopefully that helps pull things together because you'll need the context later. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

"Mommy, the recipe for the hand pies is so good. Thank you for finding it for me." 

"Oh, of course, baby. One day, I gotta get you to help me put all your Nana's recipes in a book or something. I'm tired of digging through all these scraps of paper." 

"I didn't wanna say anything, but that's insane. I can barely read her handwriting." 

Rosalyn scoffed on the other end of the phone line. "You and me both. I have to call Sybil every time or end up making up what I think goes there. I cook. I don't decipher chicken scratch."

Patrice laughed along with her mother as she passed a piping hot meatball over her shoulder to satisfy her taste tester for the night. He hummed his approval of her gift, providing a thumbs up as his rating before returning his hand to her waist and swaying them in time with the slow rhythm of Christmas music playing in the background. 

Christmas Eve brought preparation for the big day on the other side of a wake-up and a smaller get-together to celebrate Imani's and Jesus's birthdays in one evening. Patrice had offered to continue the tradition at her house to accommodate her cousin's request for loud music, liquor, and good, grown folks' fun. In a few short minutes, she and Terry would have a house full of adults gorging themselves on party food and fighting fits of giggles during a drunk game of Taboo. For now, she'd enjoy the calm before the storm with her shadow attached at the hip.

"The cinnamon smell for the apple version was way too strong, though. I almost skipped those altogether." 

Rosalyn responded with a sound of cautious curiosity. "Really? You usually love the smell of cinnamon." 

"Right," Patrice exclaimed. "Maybe I had a bad batch or something. It doesn't taste bad, but it smelled awful."

"Hm." Rosalyn filed the information in her head for a later moment of privacy, preferring not to stress her daughter with the questions buzzing around in the mind of a mother who knew her child better than anyone in the world. Instead, she continued. "Terry, did you like the hand pies?"

"You don't know if Terry is even in here, mama. He could be anywhere in the house," Patrice answered, her face screwed in confusion.

"Child, don't insult me. If you're in the kitchen, Terry is in the kitchen."

She wasn't wrong. A few too many glasses of Patrice's special holiday cocktail mixed with his ever-present desire to feel his wife at all times had Terry sticking to her like glue. Even after she'd given in to each of his kisses and allowed him to taste her the moment Imani stepped out to run a few errands, she still couldn't shake him. Whiskey was in control. Terry was only along for the ride.

He chuckled into the crook of Patrice's neck before confirming his presence. "Yes, ma'am, I loved the pies. Treece made a few on the side for me so I wouldn't have to share." 

"She still got you spoiled, I see."

"Nah, not too bad. You know she gets sweet once a week. I caught her on a good day." 

"Oh, hush."

Patrice's attempt to get out of Terry's grasp came up empty, prompting him to hold her tighter and press wet kisses onto the back of her neck. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could get away from him that easy while Uncle Nearest was pumping through his veins. 

"Well, let me let you two go," Rosalyn started with a small laugh. "Tell me how the chicken salad turns out. I might throw some together as a little snack for your daddy tomorrow. You know how he gets when he's ready to eat." 

"Mhmm. Just like somebody else I know."

Terry patiently waited for Patrice to wrap up her conversation and safely end the call before resuming his handsy approach to PDA. His hands slid up and down the fabric of her cotton pajama pants, the pair matching his at her request. Full lips attached to her neck, creating a light suction with every open-mouthed kiss. 

His wife rolled her eyes as she loaded a pita chip with dip for his culinary opinion. "You are insatiable, TJ. Taste this." 

He obliged, opening wide as she slid food into his mouth and waited for a response. Instead of a verbal assessment of her work, he kissed her cheek twice to signal his approval, then returned to his shameless groping.

"How long before Imani gets back?" 

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes or so. She only went to grab some more cups and water." 

Terry's eyes flickered to the digital clock on the stove before sliding his hands up Patrice's torso and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. "Think you got a few minutes to get back to what we started?" 

"Haven't you had enough of me yet? We've been going at it every day since New Orleans."

"What you think?"

Having enough of her touch, the feeling of her body against his, or her attention was a foreign concept for Terry. If he could quit his job and be totally devoted to her pleasure, he would do so without a second thought. Fortunately for him, though, extended absences from the slough of office life due to the holidays provided the closest opportunity to spend the whole day in it. 

Patrice smiled to herself as Terry slowly removed the serving spoon from her hand, bringing her delicate palm up to the back of his head. Coarse hair grown into a short tuft of curls and shaped by his barber tickled her fingertips as she closed her eyes, officially caught up in how Terry caressed her with the care afforded to precious works of art. 

A low purr slipped past his lips as his hands slid beneath the hem of her camisole to rub her stomach, filling her ears and mind with filthy sounds and images from earlier in the hour. Had he had enough of her? She wasn't sure she'd had enough of him. 

His fingertips inched higher, further intoxicating Patrice until a full squeeze on both breasts at the same time made her hiss and wince in pain. 

"Easy, baby," she complained as she gently pressed down on his arms to direct him away from the sensitive area. "They're super tender right now. I'm not sure why." 

Lust was quickly replaced by concern as Terry dropped his hands and turned Patrice to face him. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine, Pooh. It's probably the tattoo healing. 

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be making the entire area hurt. Especially not on both sides. Let me look."

"Terry, you never just look."

His attempt to slide the thin straps of her tank top down her arms was quickly cut short as Patrice brushed off his contact to save herself from what she assumed would come next. Her aching was a serious matter. Terry getting a look at her bare tits was not nearly as high on the list. 

Terry softened his eyes in unmistakable sincerity. "I'm serious, Treece. I know what it should look like. Come here."

Patrice didn't protest as Terry led her to the kitchen table. She stood perfectly still until Terry was comfortable in one of the chairs and then placed her between his legs. 

He gingerly pushed her tanktop straps down her arms before bunching the thin fabric at her waist to free her breasts, watching for any sign of discomfort.

"You don't think you're like…sick, do you?" 

"I think it's just tenderness," she quickly retorted, wanting to push the thought of more grave explanations for her discomfort far from her mind.

"Okay, okay. I'm only asking." 

Her brows furrowed as he lifted the right side to get a look at the moment from a charged few days in his family's old stomping grounds. 

A day alone and nothing to do but explore had them wandering into the same shady tattoo parlor where Terry got his first piece for matching ink. Terry opted to tat their wedding date on his ribs after having to be talked down from plastering her name on his neck. Patrice, however, was set on making her first experience one to remember. 

Slanted script crafted from his handwriting spelled Terry's full first name, curving just under the crease of her boob and the spot that he liked to grip in the depths of passion or simply at his leisure. Terry ran his thumb along each letter to check for abrasions or abnormalities. 

He looked up at Patrice to gauge her reaction. "That hurt?" 

"Not really. It's more here," she added, gesturing toward her areola. "Anything rubbing against it is so uncomfortable. I can barely wear a bra." 

"I noticed. They've honestly been looking a little bigger. Do they feel heavy to you?" 

"Not heavy. Mostly…full? They look great, though. I'm not complaining about that part." 

She joked, the attempt sounding silly once it received no reaction past Terry blinking as he used the pad of his thumb to ghost contact over her pebbled nipple to test her pain level. It was challenging to stay present, with a third of her upper half unnecessarily exposed in their kitchen for no real reason. The entire ordeal felt like a farce. Terrence wasn't a doctor, and him holding her titties in his hands like fleshy snowglobes was as much an actual check-up as WWE was real wrestling. 

When she giggled like a teenager learning about sex for the first time, Terry looked up at her with a quizzical expression, and his left eyebrow lifted high. "What's so funny?" 

"You, Doctor Richmond," she laughed. "How can you tell they're bigger? I couldn't even tell until the other day." 

"I spend a lot of time with my girls. I better notice when they change. Been looking at them since I was sixteen." Terry answered, a boyish grin making his cheekbones nearly touch the corner of his eyes. 

"I knew you used to look!" She exclaimed, finally feeling vindicated in her suspicions from childhood. 

"Looking was the least of what I was doing." He shrugged as he gently pushed both breasts together for his own viewing pleasure. He kissed the small crease they made two times over, then looked up at Patrice through long lashes. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I couldn't diagnose you, but I think I have some treatment available if you're interested." 

Patrice bit back a smile to play along. "Oh yeah? How much is this gonna cost? It's the holidays, and I ain't got it." 

"I offer payment plans that we can discuss in that room back there later tonight." 

"I like the sound of that," she answered, previous problems vanishing into thin air as he roped her back into his web of liquor-charged desire. 

"I knew you would," he winked. "Don't move."

Tingles rippled across Patrice's skin while she listened for any indication of Terry's secretive treatment plan. The soft crack and subsequent rush of cool from the freezer created goosebumps on her bare chest, making her nipples jut out proud from the sensation. Next came the cupboard opening and shutting in two seconds time. From the direction, she could tell he was grabbing a glass from over the sink. 

Ice cubes clinked against the cup like little masters of whispers attempting to give Patrice the scoop on what to expect. Terry quietly shut the freezer and took heavy steps back to his seat, smiling at how Patrice truly hadn't moved a muscle in his few minutes away. 

He placed the glass on the table behind him before tugging her hand to guide her closer. "Cold hot therapy. I sprained my knee once, and this got me back up and running in no time. Ice for the cold…" Terry's voice trailed as he plucked a piece of ice from his glass and pressed it to her nipple. He watched her jaw drop with a sharp inhale, intently focused on the way her eyelids fluttered closed at the sudden shock of frozen water. When a single drop began to make a trail down the swell of her breast, he pulled the ice away and brought his mouth closer. "And I'll take care of the hot."

"Oh…my God." 

Whispers of unexpected pleasure sent Terry into a far-off place where he was only concerned with running a flat tongue across supple skin. Patrice rushed to steady herself by bringing her hands to the back of his head, cradling him while he went to work. 

Ice cold. Soothing warmth. Ice cold. Soothing warmth and a light suckle. Again. And again. 

He eyed her like a lion watches prey, taking notes of every little sound and twitch to know that he was fulfilling his job. 

"Good job, baby," Patrice whispered, her head tossed back and praises spoken to the ceiling. "Good fuckin' job."

Terry ran his hands up the back of her thighs to roughly grip her ass. He groaned at the affirmation before pulling away to retrieve more ice. He held a small cube between his teeth to multitask, running it across her left nipple and areola until it had melted enough to fit both in his mouth. 

Was it fixing her tenderness issue? Not really. But Patrice would be damned if his subtle slurping and moaning with her backside firmly in his clutches wasn't sufficiently taking her mind off things. So far off, she'd lost all concept of time and space. 

While Terry pulled Patrice into his lap for a more intensive inspection, Imani entered the house high off the exhilarating freedom that can only come for night drives with a carefully curated playlist blasting from the speakers. Being stateside for the first time in a year was the perfect opportunity to experience one of life's simple pleasures. 

Grocery bags rustled and knocked against the wall as she hummed along to the fragmented lyrics from a song on her Spotify playlist still coursing through her brain. A short pause in her personal concert to lock the door left space to hear a string of curious noises. Muffled half-sentences and a sort of trembling sigh made her quirk an eyebrow. She thought to herself that Terry and Patrice left the television on far too often for a pair of people who claimed to not spend much time in front of the tube, but quickly found that they'd taken to making a scene the old-fashioned way. 

She stood in the open space, a perfectly shaped eyebrow pushed high on her face and an impressed smirk tugging at the right corner of her lip while she watched her baby cousin makeout with Imani's newest family member with a ferocity she didn't know Patrice had in her. 

Patrice held Terry steady by his jaw, slightly hovering over him while she had her way leading a sloppy kiss. When she moved to push his head back toward her chest with a string of words filthy enough to make a pornstar blush, Imani cleared her throat to finally announce her presence.

"Oh shit," Patrice yelped, rushing to tap Terry's back and end his check-up. 

His head popped up to survey the room, then slowly found a home on top of Patrice's once she pressed close enough against his chest to cover her naked breasts. The vibrations from his concealed chortling made Patrice pinch him in frustration. Nothing was funny, at least not to her. 

Imani held her hands up in faux surrender. "No, please. Don't stop on account of me," she laughed. "Y'all were just getting started." 

"We are so sorry, Moanie. This isn't what it looks like. Well, this part is exactly what it looks like, but I promise it didn't start like this. Terry was looking at my boobs to check on my tattoo and -" 

"Girl, you do not have to explain anything to me. This is your house! Honestly, if I had those big ol' mommy titties, I'd want them in somebody's face too. And you got them for free! The girls gotta go under the knife or get pregnant for those. How does it feel to be God's favorite? Terry, can you help me get the water out of the car when you finish?"

Terry looked down at his visibly distressed wife and then back at Imani to save face for the both of them. "Yeah, I got you. Gimme a minute." 

Moanie didn't notice how she'd launched her cousin into an internal spiral as she pranced off to busy herself with getting ready in her room for the week, but Terry did. He carefully sat Patrice up and helped redress her, careful to ease into conversation. 

"You alright?" 

"I had my cycle this month," Patrice rushed out, her gaze far off as Terry lifted her arm to put it back in her camisole strap. "It can't be that. I had my cycle." When her focus returned, her eyes snapped to Terry's for confirmation. "Right? I did, right?"

He nodded, unsure of how to proceed to quell her fear. "You did, baby. But, maybe…"

Sure, it was lighter than usual, but she'd had a cycle. Her body functioned like it did every month, on time and without pomp and circumstance. There was no cause for concern. 

But…maybe. 

Patrice looked down at her belly then back up at Terry, searching for answers in his sympathetic expression. He leaned forward and held her head with both hands to give her a kiss she couldn't return before he spoke. 

"Don't drink tonight. Just in case. We'll figure it out in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay." She whispered back without truly processing the gravity of his instruction. 

Terry slowly lifted Patrice from his lap to fulfill Imani's request for assistance, leaving her to stand perfectly still in the kitchen. She counted backward in her head, retracing her steps and important dates until a headache sent her to take a seat. 

It was just tenderness. It'd go away by morning, and all of this would be a silly story to tell whenever they got together in the spring for their European honeymoon. She'd drink an entire bottle of wine over heaps of pasta, turning the whole situation into a fond memory before raising her hand to call the server for another round. All water under the bridge, right?

But…maybe.

------

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[jayktoralldaylong]

One of my favourite things about Arcane is that all the couples can be read as toxic, which is GREAT.

I'm tired of people bringing morality debates into dark media. Let dark media be fucking dark. You guys wouldn't survive a day in the TMA fandom, needing everyone to be as good as gold. How are they going to make for enjoyable complex characters if they're not morally grey. In fact, I wish there'd been more expansion on just how morally black they can become!

"CaitVi is so toxic" According to lesbian statistics, that sounds just about accurate. 💀 Heck, I wish Caitlyn had done more (Not really, but it would have been nice to further explore the darkness in her heart). Isn't it adorable how she immediately folded as soon as Vi called her cupcake? Caitlyn's like one of those villains that will consistently do the most....until it comes to someone else hurting her girlfriend. The only one allowed to hurt her girlfriend is her. 💀

Then let's talk about Vi. Someone pointed out how Vi never cared about Zaun's independence in the first place and many people yelled that they were wrong. But actually, they were right. Vi never wanted Zaun. Zaun was Silco's dream, and Jinx inherited that dream cause Silco would never shut up about it. Vi wanted Piltover to take responsibility for all the shit they allowed to happen in the Undercity. That's a part of the reason she joined up with Caitlyn in the first place. Let's not forget she wasn't dissuaded when she dragged Jayce down to fight with her and he killed a child. Children been dying, it's been her whole life. Someone needed to do something about it, and Zaun would have just isolated the people from all the privileges that Piltover SHOULD have been providing for them. Some people just can't accept that Independence cannot in fact solve every problem, and sometimes independence is colonisers running away from the responsibility of fixing the mess that they started in the first place.

Besides, we all know Vi joined up with the Enforcers because "I feel like I am worthless if I can't be of service." She'd already run out of family members to serve, Caitlyn was the next best thing. She's just like Jayce.

And speaking of Jayce, let's talk about his violent levels of codependency with anyone who'll give him attention. People LOOOOVE to talk about Mel, but it's there with Viktor too. When bro wasn't basing his worth on his inventions, he was centering it around Viktor.

Viktor who decided at some point in his life that he would not LIVE without Jayce. He was fine dying without him, but living without him was unacceptable. Oh how healthy. 🙄😂 Viktor be the kind of toxic ex to threaten divorce 500 times over, then burn the world when you actually leave him. Jayce is no better cause he's the kind of guy to keep going back to his toxic Ex.

Yes, Mel is manipulative. That's what I love about her. How are you guys failing to give this woman the praise of being an outsider in Piltover, but running their entire council. 💀 Girl raises her hand once and the whole government starts spinning. She was the best sugar mummy Jayce and Viktor could ever ask for. She kept the whole city running. Literally the entire of Piltover dancing on her palm. And yes she manipulated Jayce but let's not forget she thought that was a love language. 💀 You wanna be mad at someone, be mad at Ambessa for raising her that way.

I also don't think it's fair to blame her for the Undercity situation, she's not native. Monkey see, monkey do, and not a single one of those Council members actually cared about the situation down there, it was deplorable. 💀 Jayce did way more in his two weeks as Councillor than any of those drug pushing, money laundering, Piltovian heads of government.

And that just covers MelJayVik, we don't even need to get fully into TimeBomb, cause we know what's wrong there. 💀 Surely we have not forgotten the many teammates Jinx has killed, but making sure to never kill Ekko cause that's her man. Ekko has a lot to unpack, like how his consistent and unwavering love for Jinx is an indication of a lot of doors he might not be ready to open. I know they dynamics go crazy and I love to see it.

Ambessa and Sevika are a crack ship but I'm sure we all know bedroom dynamics go crazy with Mrs. Warlord and Miss Liberation. I love it when characters clash in a toxic heap. It's insane and should be explored.

Quit saintifying my toxic ships with your woke morality debates. If you want everyone to be sunshine and rainbows then you should be watching literally anything else. 💀 "It's not healthy." GOOD, I like it that way. 💀 Angst, spice and trauma are the recipe for a plethora of explorative fanfiction. Any of their dynamics can be taken in any toxic direction and I want that EXPLORED.

[iamanartichoke]

I skimmed the notes to see if anyone else pointed this out, but I didn't see it, so I'm just going to take this opportunity to point out that, yes, while it is absolutely ridiculous to frame the murder of a single CEO as an act of terrorism, we should be aware that it isn't being used simply to be extra (for lack of a better term). It's more nefarious than just trying to control the cultural narrative around this crime and this case; one of Luigi's charges is "murder as an act of terrorism," meaning that he's being legally charged as a terrorist.

And while I have not done a deep dive / research into this entire issue (but I will if anyone's interested, tbh) insofar as how terrorism plays a role, what I can say based on my very, very vague awareness of the finer complexities of The Law, terrorists (alleged or otherwise) usually aren't given the right of due process. When someone is charged with terrorism, their right to a jury trial can be suspended and, instead, they will have some kind of military hearing (or tribunal) and guilt / sentencing will be determined by whoever presides over said hearing. Someone charged with plain old murder has constitutional rights that guarantee (in theory) the right to a speedy trial, the right to a jury trial, and the right to a fair trial. The trial also has to be made public, whether that's by streaming or simply accessible transcripts (or a combination; see - every trial that's made the headlines in the recent years, from Depp to Murdaugh to Brooks [the latter who, by the way, was charged with driving his SUV into a holiday parade and killing / injuring something like 60 people yet was not, to my knowledge, charged with terrorism {I watched that trial but I don't remember the details so feel free to fact-check me}]). Someone charged with terrorism has no such constitutional rights.

And, again, I'm just going off the cuff based on what I personally am cognizant of; I don't have sources to cite and I don't know the ins-and-outs of how it all works. It's also worth mentioning that terrorists (alleged or otherwise) who go through these types of hearings are generally not US citizens - but, this is how the government was able to send prisoners to Guantanamo Bay.

So my point is, Eric Adams is using deliberate language to uphold the narrative that Luigi's actions are that of a terrorist and in doing so he's complicit in whatever groundwork the feds may be laying behind the scenes in order to manipulate the legal system and loophole their way out of a public jury trial. The powers that be are already aware that the general public sentiment favors Luigi and thus finding an impartial jury will be difficult; god forbid a jury acquits him - they may feel like the risk of acquittal is too high and so they're making moves to eliminate that risk.

Anyway, idk, I just wanted to toss that out there bc I feel like this needs to be called out. Most of the comments I skimmed mentioned "innocent until proven guilty," and I'm just saying, from where I'm sitting, I don't think we can take it for granted that Luigi is innocent until proven guilty, nor can we take it for granted that he will have a fair trial. Our criminal justice system is complex, in a word, and corrupt people who have power can and do use it as a weapon. That's what's happening here, and it's dangerous.

[lottins-only]

CROSS THE LINE II | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line. what happens next?

A/N: happy holidays yall 🥳 lmk what you guys think!! <3

warnings: infidelity (once again, i don't condone it. 🫣), non explicit smut

PART ONE

before all of this, you’d always imagined an affair as something out of a movie: clandestine meetings, tensions running high, stolen moments, secret rendezvous. but in reality, it’s messier, quieter. it’s second guessing yourself every step of the way, staring at your reflection and admitting you’re a horrible person time and time again, and then doing it anyway. 

it doesn’t start with a bang, no dramatic explosion of passion. after the night at the cinema, things unfold slowly. you text every single day for weeks, conversations ranging from the mundane to the deep. you learn about each other, piece by piece. and jude, you realize, is like quicksand. the more you discover, the deeper you sink. he’s too funny, too kind, too good. unfairly handsome, and somehow better for it.

he has an uncanny way of making you unravel. of making you open up so easily that sometimes you don't notice it's happening. you, usually reserved and guarded, find yourself sharing without hesitation. you suppose its the way there's no judgement from him, no disinterest or impatience.

and then there’s the way he lets you in. with every detail he shares, every message, he pulls you in like a magnet you can’t resist. he tells you about the running joke he’s had with his best friend for years, humor inexplicable to anyone but the two of them. the trivial argument he had with his brother that was inconsequential but still annoying enough to stick in his mind. his new favorite song, sent with a note about how it makes him feel. formative memories he’ll never forget, now shared with you. it’s as though he’s placing his heart on a silver platter, daring you: know me. know me and want me.  

and you do. want him, that is.

that’s the exact reason why you find yourself in his bed one afternoon. 

his room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn against the waning sun. you sit on the edge of the bed, your hands twisting in your lap, nerves running high. jude sits beside you, eyes locked on yours, searching for the final hint of hesitation. a sign that you might leave. but you don’t move. you can’t.

when he leans in, his fingers brushing against your cheek, it feels inevitable. of course you’re here, with him. where else would you be? his touch is warm, grounding, and when his lips finally meet yours, it feels like everything that’s ever happened in the world has led to this moment.

his hands find your waist, sliding under your shirt as the kiss deepens. his touch is firm and warm, yet capable of sending shivers down your spine. you don’t stop him when he pulls your shirt over your head or when his lips trail down your neck, leaving your skin tingling.

 “what are we doing?” you murmur almost to yourself as he bites on a sensitive spot. 

jude pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and full of desire, but there’s something else there too: something deeper, more vulnerable. 

“whatever you want” he says, his voice low, his hand grazing your cheek tenderly. “i want this. i want you”

you nod wordlessly, and the rest happens in a blur. his weight presses you into the mattress, his skin warm under your fingertips as you trace the muscles of his back. he kisses you like he can’t help himself, and you kiss him back just as desperately. plush lips and calloused hands taking their liberties, roaming all over your body, eliciting sounds and sensations you’ve never experienced with anyone else. you don’t hold back either, not when his golden brown skin is all yours to explore, to kiss, to bite. to revel in. 

he moves against you, his hands gripping your hips as you arch into him. there’s nothing slow or tentative about it now. his movements are purposeful and you meet him with equal attention . when he finally pushes inside you, you let out a rush of breath, almost like a sigh of relief. it’s overwhelming, the way he fits perfectly inside of you, the way it feels familiar and routine, like he’s done this a hundred times before. 

the room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the creak of the mattress as he rhythmically thrusts into you, his low murmurs against your skin that range from curses to your name to soft groans. your nails dig into his back, and he doesn’t flinch, only moves harder, deeper, his focus entirely on you. “you feel so perfect, so good” he whispers, like its a confession he’s been waiting to make for the longest time. 

you don’t think about the guilt or the consequences. there’s only jude, the way he feels, the way he moves. for now, that’s all that matters.

afterwards, you lie in bed, your head on his chest, his hand softly grazing your now frizzy curls. his heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a comforting sound. 

“so,” you say, breaking the silence as you trace his chiseled chest with your finger. “you won’t believe what happened at work today. this guy left his mic on during a teams meeting and got caught badmouthing our boss.”

jude’s chest vibrates beneath you as he laughs silently. “no way. what did he say?”

you tell the story, and he listens intently, chuckling softly. you think two things: first, never in your life did you imagine having pillow talk with jude bellingham. and second, the knowledge that you made him laugh gives you such a rush of serotonin you want do it over and over again.

seasons change, your situation doesn’t. months go by and jude and you are sneaking around. no one knows, not even your closest friend or your mother– people who know you better than anyone, people who love and accept the parts of you that you consider deeply embarrassing and shameful. you don’t share this, because it’s different. this secret is well and truly a condemnation of your character. but that doesn’t mean you want to stop.  

you find yourself at a real madrid christmas party one evening. you’re there with your boyfriend, of course. the man who feels more and more like a stranger as the days go by. the man in whose phone, just last night, you’d found incriminating dms with an instagram model. it hadn’t fazed you. after all, you were doing the same.

you sip on a glass of champagne, watching jude from across the room. he’s in his element, charming everyone from the staff to the players to the wags. his laugh carries over to where you’re standing, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering at the sound. 

and yet, despite all the mingling, he hasn’t approached you.

you hate yourself for keeping track, but you’ve noticed. he’s made his rounds, talking to everyone, making small talk that leaves people grinning. but you? not a glance, not a word. it’s like you’re invisible.

you can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as you watch a group of wags giggling at something he says, leaning in closer as if trying to soak up his presence. your nails dig into the stem of your glass, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“you okay?” your boyfriend asks, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. you must be having a very visible reaction for even him to notice.

“fine” you lie, forcing a smile. don’t touch me, is what you really want to say.

you’re not fine though. not as you steal another glance at jude, who’s now leaning against the bar, talking to vini. he looks relaxed, like he hasn’t a care in the world, like he doesn’t feel the tension that’s suffocating you.

you tell yourself it’s better this way. no one is gonna suspect anything if he avoids you. but still, it stings.

and then, as if he senses your eyes on him, he finally looks your way. the moment is brief, a flicker of recognition  before he looks away quickly, returning his attention to vini like nothing happened.

the champagne in your glass suddenly feels too heavy, and you set it down on the nearest table before excusing yourself to the restroom.

Inside the rest room, you splash cold water on your face, hoping it will calm the heat in your chest, the ache in your gut. but it doesn’t.

the sound of the restroom door opening makes you freeze. you glance up and flinch when you see jude.he steps inside, shutting the door quietly behind him, his eyes locking on yours immediately.

you watch silently as he leans back against the door, his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit pants. he looks calm but his jaw is visibly clenched. 

“you’ve been avoiding me” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“i had to” he replies, his voice low. “you know why”

you do know why. but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“you talked to everyone in that room except me” you continue, voice sharper than you expect. “it’s like i don’t even exist to you”

“you think i wanted to ignore you? do you know how hard it is to be in the same room as you and pretend like–” he cuts himself off, hands rubbing the back of his neck.

“pretend like what?” 

“like i don’t want you,” he says, the words coming out in a rush. “like i don’t think about you all the time. like i’m not going crazy knowing you’re here with him”

“then why avoid me?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“because if i talked to you” he says, stepping even closer. “if i got too close, i don’t know if i could stop myself”

your lips meet just then, as if drawn together like magnets. you kiss fiercely, desperately. his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him. you can taste the sweet champagne on his lips, can feel the heat from his warm hands. when you pull away, you’re breathless, but you feel renewed. like touching him made up for the fact that you had to put up with your boyfriend for the whole evening. 

“i’m breaking up with him tonight” you blurt. “I found out he’s been cheating”

“what an asshole” jude says without skipping a beat.

you laugh bitterly as you adjust the top of his turtleneck. “i’m doing the same thing”

jude smirks. “yeah, bit hypocritical isn’t it?” he says, and you both burst out laughing, the sound echoing loudly in the bathroom. 

you sit with it for a bit, the weight of your actions settling in between you two, both of you knowing what an awful thing you’re doing. you, to someone who’s been a partner of yours for some time. him, to his teammate who he doesn’t particularly like, but still owes some loyalty to, some obligation of decency.

“i don’t regret it” he says quietly, as if reading your thoughts. he grabs your hand and enterwines your fingers.  “i don’t regret any of it”

“me too” you murmur. and you mean it. 

that night, you keep your word and dump your boyfriend. it's an anti climactic ending, both of you mentally checked out of the relationship in the end to even care. still, you feel the weight lifting off your shoulder. good riddance.

that's how an affair with your boyfriend’s teammate unfolds and then ends. if you’re wondering how a relationship with your ex’s teammate begins, here it is: first, you scrub any trace of your previous relationship off the internet (you were always pretty private anyway). then, you gaslight everyone who knows all three of you into believing the relationship was never that serious, so what's the harm if you're seeing the other guy now? stranger things have happened. thankfully said ex-boyfriend conveniently leaves the team and the country at the end of the season, so it makes things easier for you. third step is to keep a careful distance from your new man in public for several months to maintain the illusion that there was no overlap with your past... relationship? situationship? or was it friendship? we’ll never know. finally, hard launch on a sunny afternoon at one of your favorite cafes in madrid, on a random wednesday in late summer. that’s how you do it.

so here you are, seated across from each other. you sip on a latte; jude’s having tea. he’s just come back from an adidas shoot, and he’s exhausted, you can tell by the tired smile on his face and by the way his body is slouched slightly in his chair. the only expression of affection he can muster is the soft brush of his leg against yours under the table. 

you chat about the book you’re currently reading, how the price of pastries in the cafe are atrociously high. yet again, you marvel at how easy it is with him. talking, laughing, slipping into comfortable silences. its like you’ve known him for years. 

“someone’s taking a pic” he nods towards someone behind you. you don’t look back, just smile softly. “going according to plan” he murmurs, taking a sip of his tea. 

you’re silent, thinking about how luckly you are, to have him, to be with him. you continue to chat, and now you’re on the topic of the show you’re watching. jude confesses he watched an episode without you on the plane back from an away game, and you gasp indignantly, kicking his leg under the table. 

“ow” he mutters. “i couldn’t sleep!”

“you couldn't watch anything else?” you say, dabbing at a coffee stain that had tainted the sleeve of your shirt. When you look up, jude’s looking at you with such a tender look on his face that you want to look away. 

“what?” you say, half self consciously. 

“nothing” he grins. “its just that you’re so beautiful. everytime i look at you it gets better”

your stomach is immediately filled with butterflies, and all you can do is grin back at him shyly, cheeks heating up from his words. sometimes being with him feels like you’re on a rollercoaster ride, in a good way. except the rush you get is from basking in his warmth, in his love, in his presence. 

needless to say it was all worth it in the end. thank god for late night cinema trips. 

[fizz-pop-thwip]

I struggle thinking about non consensual human experimentation as a whole, but what happened to Bucky really it does just make me sick.

To start, think of how his stomach dropped when he fell from the train, the fucking fear knowing you're dead. You have 2 seconds and then your dead, this is it.

Then you wake up to 1) being alive, horrifically unaware of the 70 years of hell ahead of you and 2) your arm being not only surgically removed but replaced with a metal arm, a foreign body, a parasite. You fight because what else are you ment to do? But you fall unconscious again.

You wake up to days and days of torment and torture and slowly loose hope that it will ever end, that you'll ever be saved. He didn't know that Steve was dead, how long did he yearn for Steve to find him? How mad did he get? Did he punch the wall, did he scream? Did they have to sedate him because of just how psychotic that made him? How fucking manic he would go?

How long till he lost all feeling, all emotion and hope?

When they started putting him in the chair, did he scream and cry? Did he beg for anything else? Any thing, anything, fucking anything. Did he beg for death? Did he feel himself slowly lose all of his memory, did he sob when he first couldn't picture Steve's face, or when he could remember the most important person in the world, but not a name or a background or a face, not a crumb.

The first time he's put in cryo freeze, does he remember his reflection? Seconds before he fell unconscious, never knowing how long it would be before he woke up again. Did he wake up, begging to just be put back in, the closest fate to death he could ever achieve? The closest thing to mercy? Does he catch himself falling asleep at night and wake up in tears, not even sure if it's been 20 minutes of 20 years.

Did his crys for help fall on the shiney leather shoes of scientists who showed no emotion, did he question if he was even human to begin with? Surely a human would be treated with even a fraction of care. No one treated like this was born from a mother, no one treated like this was ever looked at with maternal love.

He stopped feeling like a person, he didn't even remember he was a person. When things seeped though it just hurt, they hurt him, it made it worse. So he stopped it, he wouldn't let himself. It was impossible to live. He had no coping mechanisms, no outlet, he would show any signs of struggle and be hurt for showing humanity. He had to be what they wanted.

Even after he was broken in, no crying anymore. No begging for mercy. Did he spend his nights awake, just TRYING to remember what he forgot, FEELING the missing spots in his mind? Did he hold that metal arm close because he can't even remember how he got it anymore, all he knows is it makes his shoulders ache.

He was completely and utterly trapped, the more he suppressed, even the minor shards he remembered, the more mania he would experience.

Even once he's free, how do you come back from that, even if it was just a mental thing, the physical, real DAMAGE to his brain was enough to make him never heal again. Bucky is a walking fucking miracle and maybe THE survivor.

He is going to have memory problems, severly. He is going to have intense PTSD flashbacks, total hallucination level, breakdowns. Seriously, this level of trauma is NEVER leaving him, not fully. Phantom pains, endless nightmares, coping mechanisms that don't make sense but comfort him none the less.

He's going to have periods of times where he can't even stand being touched, not Steve, not anyone. Weeks where he can't shower or move out of a space his brain has deemed safe for fear of being hurt. Scratches at the seam between his flesh and the metal of arm, wanting it off, wanting it away from him. Again does it necessarily make sense logically? NO!! but does he feel it 100%? Yes!!

He gets better, his bad periods get less intense, more far in between but they never fully go away. As fuckimg depressing as it is, hydra made a permanent mark on his psyche. It's FUCKED.

Gods strongest soldier is Bucky Barnes.

[doberbutts]

I was a Girl Scout for about 7 or so years before my troop disbanded and my area couldn't find another leader until after I aged out, or else I would have stayed in the Scouts much longer.

I will say that at least when I was a Scout, I could see why a trans boy might be uncomfortable, as there is a LOT of emphasis on girlhood and sisterhood and being a girl growing into a woman etc. And there may be a question about how appropriate it is for him to be sharing the same sleeping areas and changing areas as the girls as these kids age and puberty behinds to happen.

However. However. The Girl Scouts have already declared that they are friendly to trans girls and will accept them in direct opposition to the Boy Scouts original stance on trans youth as an organization, and the opposition to *that* was pretty much verbatim: what happens when a trans girl goes through puberty and is still using the same changing areas and cabins and such as the cis girls. And the Girl Scouts pretty much went "w/e we'll figure it out, girls are girls so anyone who is a girl can stay" and to my knowledge that's pretty much as far as it went.

(Also at least when my troop went camping, we went with the local Boy Scout troop and so we had "boy bathrooms" and "girl bathrooms" and "boy cabins" and "girl cabins" so it's not even that hard to like. Just have the kid use the correct bathroom and cabin for their gender. But perhaps other troops don't coordinate like that.)

So it's... odd, to me, to say that reacting negatively to this case of a trans boy is, hmm, "saying trans men can be everywhere but trans women can be nowhere" because it's more or less the opposite that's happening to this kid. The Boy Scouts took much longer to accept trans boys than the Girl Scouts did to accept trans girls, which means there's a fairly high chance that this particular kid likely *already had made connections in his local GS troop and didn't want to uproot his social group*.

This is important and needs some keeping in mind- because this kid was 17, and has been part of his GS troop since he was 6, and Boy Scouts only started allowing trans boys on a case-by-case basis... 7 years ago. So he was 10, and already well-secured in his troop community, when the Boy Scouts had a shaky at best policy, in a super red area that likely *would not* have approved his entry regardless of what the Council said, much like they did for other trans boys *that same calendar year*.

So... to be clear, we're asking a 9-11 year old depending on exact birthdays to give up all their friends on a solid maybe that, considering the area, almost guarantees he's going to at least get beaten up and bullied... because that is just good transgender-friendly praxis. Yeah. OK.

We also don't know how long he's been out, or even known he was transgender, so it's very possible that his social transition is much more recent than that even, which gives him even longer to have formed connections.

And *then* you add that usually your Scout troop is your local community, so he may very well have known boys within his local Boy Scout troop that were known to not be kind to queer kids and din't want the trouble. I can tell you that the girls in my troop clocked me well before I even knew the word transgender and were not kind to me about it, and I lived in an equally red part of the same state.

folks if you can't conceive of a world in which both trans boys and trans girls are able to exist in the same space that's like. your problem. i actually think it's incredibly easy for the girl scouts to both be fully inclusive of trans girls AND any trans boys who want to participate in it, especially if they were a scout pre transition and that is where all of their friends and support comes from. or if there are no boy scouts nearby. or if they are nonbinary and assigned whatever at birth and want to be in a scouting troup and girl scouts seems more affirming than boy scouts. why do Y'ALL feel like trans girls can only be affirmed through binarism. why are y'all so uncharitable to trans boys.

[riverintheunderworld]

Sleep ⋆☾⋆

↳ Casper x GN!Reader

There's something about the fact that his hair looks even better, all sprawled out in your pillow as the reaper peacefully sleeps next to you.

He looks so beautiful.

Of course he does. Part of you is almost irritated by it -- no one should look this good while asleep! But how can you be mad knowing that this sight is something that you, only you, will ever see?

No one else will be able to see his white lashes pointing downwards as his eyes stay closed and relaxed. No one else will be able to brush their thumb against his pink lips, which are slightly parted open.

This sight is for you and you only.

Your hands linger to his hair. So soft, so smooth. There's no doubt that he takes care of it. You sit up, back against the headboard, as you twirl your fingers along the ends of it.

You can't believe anyone would try to take this away from you. How cruel.

Your fingers tighten at the thought.

Ever since he, albeit unofficially, came to live with you, you've grown used to his presence. You don't know how you survived without him.

Your gaze lingers to his eyes.

Honestly, you doubt you'd survive if he ever happened to leave.

Carefully, you bring your hand closer, inspecting his white locks. They almost look blue in this light -- or lack thereof.

It's pretty. He's always pretty.

When your eyes flicker back to his face, you notice his eyes fluttering open.

Ah, fuck.

Casper lets out a sleepy groan, clearly annoyed by you waking him up.

He tilts his head up from his pillow, and his hair immediately falls to frame his face -- how does it do that?

When his head is finally upright, his brows are pinched together, and he has his mouth in a pout.

"Ah, did I wake you?" You whisper quietly, letting go of his hair to rub at your neck sheepishly. You try not to feel too bad.

"Why are you awake?" His voice is deeper. His voice is softer.

You didn't know what in the world had led to you having the luxury of hearing him so.. soft, and gentle, but you're sure as hell thanking it in this moment.

"Couldn't sleep."

He doesn't seem to be pleased with your answer, but he never is. You don't give it too much thought.

You thought that was it, and he'd immediately go back to his needed beauty sleep, but it doesn't stop there.

Casper wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer by your waist.

It only takes a second for your back to press against his chest, and immediately afterwards, he wraps his legs around your own.

Casper is cold, as always.

But his presence makes you feel warm.

"Get some rest," he whispers against your ear, squeezing your body. "Please."

"At least you know your manners, hm?" You immediately reply.

Instead of getting huffy like usual, he lets out a chuckle that tickles your skin.

He places a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

"Sleep."

A/N: chat i need them so bad its not even funny.. i NEED THEM SO BAD ITS EMBARRASSING

[directdogman]

Dialtown is the most USA-core game I've ever played. It's so fucking American that it's scary, and I've lived there my entire life! Like, this feels fundamentally tied with the game's themes and narrative, that's how extreme it is. And it's not even alienating OR nationalist?? It makes such genuine commentary? And then there's so much other shit to think about too; Dialtown has a very real identity outside this that anyone could love?

One: I am VERY impressed that you have done the USA and its people this well. I am actually astounded, bewildered, and chuffed. I've never felt so seen by a video game, culturally-speaking. I didn't even know there was a culture to see.

Two: WHY did you do that. Dialtown is like USA Culture Absurdified: The Visual Novel. What drove you to make a game this rich with American culture and ideas???

Hello!

It would've been odd for an outsider (non American) who enjoys reading up on history to make my setting nationalist or alienating. America is a country with a lot of serious issues. You can't really study how America is (and has been) internally run without facing glaring and obvious systematic issues. DT's setting is one of scarcity and most of the main characters you follow in DT are kinda just scraping by without much hope for true mobility/advancement. A lot of Americans (especially younger generations) would agree this sorta encapsulates the national mood of the country right now.

Of course, the systems that run a country don't define its citizens - many of the finest people I've ever known are American and are victims of the whims of those with power, not willing participants in this system. I could be wrong, but that's why I think the setting connected with a lot of people. We all know Randys, Olivers + Karens, people who've fallen through the cracks in some way. To them, America's spirit of self-determination isn't about individual identity - it's more "you're on your own."

Why I chose to set DT in America would be a novel length answer in of itself, but it mainly came down to history + narrative opportunity. I wanted to set the game in the epicenter of where the phone-revolution came from and Crown likely couldn't have pulled his plan off anywhere else and probably not during any other time. It had to be 1960's America.

Of course, some parts of DT are sorta universal and were inspired by the the Great Recession and what followed. I remember there was an area not that far from my house that was full of green fields when I was born and when I was a kid (and when real estate boomed), stuff started being built there. Parts of it looked really nice, not quite like anything nearby. Like the future was coming. Then the economy crashed and stuff was left sitting there, half-built for like a decade. Skeletal, unfinished buildings. DT is much the same.

There's a feeling that the city could've been something better and while things could be more equal, it does feel like there are no easy solutions to fix everything - unless someone very smart and determined somehow bypassed every safeguard that was set up to halt radical change and enacted a genius plan to somehow eliminate scarcity. It happened once and might never again.

I don't think most people understand the intricacies of stuff like global commerce all that well (myself included), but when you're sitting looking at a half built neighbourhood mere hours after speaking to a friend who just kicked out of rented accommodation and doesn't have a stable family unit to fall back on, you'd have to be a real dolt not to understand that things aren't great right now. Most people are scraping by and feel if they could just get affordable housing locked down, if they had maybe one good opportunity - maybe there's hope that things could change for the better.

The end of DT isn't really utopian, things don't massively change for the better and indeed, the town has a lot of rebuilding to do. But, a collection of lonely people are now looking out for each other and through the relationships they have, now feel like they have a place in this world. That no matter how bad things really get - they aren't truly by themselves anymore. Most individuals don't have the means to significantly advance change on their own - but you can live your life, love those around you and support others and plan for when the opportunity to affect change comes about.

I guess that's what life is, in America or anywhere else. Sorry I rambled for so long. Hope this answered the question!

[bloodyentrails]

i think you make some very good points.

i don't really feel qualified to judge the quality of actors tbh, what i do know is that we get more private moments with dean, where he is alone with the audience and idk about anyone else, but this stuff is catnip to me.

i think there are far fewer private moments we get with sam. or maybe padalecki doesn't communicate them well enough, i have no idea.

i agree that sam isn't compassionate in the mother teresa sense, i think my tags were an (incomplete) attempt at some kind of parallel between me picking a character to relate to, and sam also finding a monster her relates to. we see something of ourselves in them, and we become emotionally engaged with their story and all of that. i think that sort of thing is very important to me.

i think for me the show is generally lacking in the kind of reflection other stories do wrt monsters. or maybe i just spend a lot of time with jungian concepts?? i spent a long time watching and waiting for any kind of identification so i was glad when it happened, and also felt like they did very little with it.

dean doesn't spare monsters at all, so far, i think until benny comes along? i think he draws such a sharp line between us and them that benny was a real surprise to me. idk if that will change in later seasons, and idk if it's necessary per se. it's like all they learn is relatively superficial, ok this is how you kill this particular monster, this is what it takes.

i don't really want to write a whole defense of why one brother is better than the other. there is something to me in having them together that makes the most sense, and i do love contrasting their ideas and approaches and whatnot. i really wish the writing allowed them to grow more as people, i feel like so far they are sort of stuck in having to be together for better or worse and not really being able to see the other. i'm curious how this will develop if it does.

i think the problem with all of the, who is the hero type discourse, is that i feel like a lot of this is ancient history and has been fought about over and over, and i'm clumsiy trying to stay away from those types of debates, because they don't hold much joy for me. but also it's a ton of doylist thinking, of how i'm supposed to see the action, how i'm supposed to interpret it, and i try to resist that too. if i can.

so, like, at the moment, i'm trying very hard to let the show speak and percolate and just sort of exist. which is hard! there is so much already being said and seemingly decided about it and the characters, and endlessly reiterated. it's hard to have a good take on it.

maybe this is me being a dumb overly literal autist stemlord who simply does not understand literary theory or some shit equivalent but why should i care about someone being coded as [X] when i can just. care about someone who is [X]. why should i care more about the conventionally attractive white woman with a job and mortgage because she's metaphorically othered due to being a supernatural creature when i could care about the actually othered addicts that she used as a source of food. help me out here.

[iamluzgar]

Okay I have thoughts on Veilguard and why I liked Rook and the whole positivity thing. Hear me out.

Spoilers:

One of the main topics of Veilguard (it has many imo) is the question of leadership (which is connected to the question of identity too). It's a question that is asked through Solas at the beginning as to why Rook should be given information regarding the gods.

None of the reasons are "because I'm special". None of them are "because I killed an Arishok" nor "killed an archdemon" nor "because I was blessed by whatever god you want". The purpose of Rook is that they're a rando, so far away from what heroes look like in Thedas. The only stuff you can answer to Solas is "I'm good against odds" or "there was nobody else to do it" and a third one I haven't picked yet that's probably as underwhelming.

Rook did one good deed Varric saw and was like "uh unpredictable and defending people, neat". Solas has been dealing with politicians/politics/big names all of his life, they are assertive people, leaders in the sense of leading faceless soldiers to war for a cause. Rook is none of that, they're the antithesis of this actually and that's the whole point of Varric choosing them.

What IS a good leader actually? The purpose of Rook as a character was to grow and make players wonder. If we look at how "Varric" treats them during the game, and the options, it becomes kinda obvious that Rook is meant to be unsure/not feeling like they deserve to be there/not in their right place. I saw many criticisms about the game for that, but it is MEANT to be like that. We see other leaders, through Solas, Elgarn'nan, etc etc... Every time we see what they do, what they think regarding their faction, how they treat their people. The whole game explores what the fuck is a leader.

I think Veilguard wanted us players to wonder, if we got into Veilguard tomorrow recruited by Varric etc, who would we be as a leader? I think anyone, and even people with leadership positions IRL, would feel awkward and unsure once in a setting to fight gods, having the weight of the whole world on their shoulders. We weren't meant to play "any" character like we used to in other DA (and even then I'd argue Hawke is always kinda the same dude too but I digress), we were meant to play Rook: the rando who got there by Varric and who is unsure about leadership because wtf is happening. This is an honest characterization, what would genuinely and obviously happen. We'd feel inadequate and useless. But the game doesn't tell you "ah you're shitty for feeling inadequate and useless because you have none of what makes a great war leader", it tells you "okay, you have nothing giving you an advantage against your enemies... You're average. What's the best you can do with what you have?"

How would you deal with the rest of the story, with all the understandable vulnerabilities and insecurities you have? Rook dealt with it by supporting the people they thought were better/adequate/fit the hero box they didn't. Because they do, all of them have something narratively special about them. Rook supported them so they realized themselves as heroes, so that they didn't die in the final fight. Which... All comes back to the positivity thing. I know I would do my pep talk to my team, because that's probably the only thing I'd think I'd be good at, and I know they would certainly need it considering the weight on our shoulders. It is what I do in my daily life in the face of struggles.

Rook is meant to be that. They're meant to be the supportive leader, because they have an absolutely disastrous view of themselves and, as a character, fit none of the boxes meant for Heroes. But in dealing with the hands they had, they made heroes out of special people. And those heroes saved the world. And Heroes could include Solas depending on your ending imo.

Veilguard tells you that's the kind of leader you can be, even if you don't think you're adequate in your life, even if you have vulnerabilities, even if you're facing enemies who have a tremendous advantage over you. You, as an individual, can support the special people around you so that they realize themselves and become heroes, even if you're average yourself.

NGL I can't wait to be in 2034 when people realize Veilguard is actually a great game.

[mrsshabana]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 ✧ 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ꔫ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, canon-ish, fluff

ꔫ Note Happy Holidays everyone! I haven't had much time to write lately since I'm moving. But I wanted to give you guys a little something for the holidays! ଘ( ･ω･)_/ﾟ･:*:･｡☆

Gyutaro always hated Christmas.

He's a demon now so it's not like the holiday is meant for him, but even as a human he hated it. The holiday just served as a reminder of everything he never had. Family, gifts, food, love. It just wasn't fair.

After he turned into a demon he took it upon himself to celebrate Christmas in his own special way. Scouting out the rich neighborhoods to find his own Christmas feast.

It was sadistic, but that's Gyutaro's idea of fun. He enjoyed torturing those who were more fortunate than himself, of course. But in a way, he also felt like he was enacting revenge for those who weren't strong enough to do it themselves. All of the orphans and poor children who spent Christmas night out on the cold streets of the entertainment district.

It became a Christmas tradition for Gyutaro. But things changed when he met you.

He first noticed you when he heard your voice through his sister's ears. It sounded heavenly, instantly waking him from his slumber. And by the elegant kimono you wore, he guessed you were just another rich woman. Destined to spend Christmas in some mansion surrounded by loads of gifts. It infuriated him.

So, that year you became his target.

And on Christmas Eve he followed you home, only to see something that surprised him. You weren't rich, no, far from it. You lived in a small home on the outskirts of town. Your home was not decorated in the slightest and you didn't even have a Christmas tree.

"This can't be right... a girl as pretty as her can't spend Christmas alone," he grumbles to himself. He decided to stay and watch you for a while, figuring that you must have a rich boyfriend or something like that.

But no. No one came and you opened no gifts. The pretty girl that Gyutaro was previously jealous of, spent the entire night by herself.

You were the first person to surprise Gyutaro in a very long time. The first person with a beautiful face who didn't have a life to match it. Behind closed doors, you lived a life full of sadness and loneliness. Though at work and in front of others you always wore a smile, never wanting anyone to worry about you.

But you couldn't hide the truth from Gyutaro. He continued to watch you from the shadows even after Christmas had long passed. Stalking you from rooftops, listening to your voice through his sister's ears, watching you up close from her eyes. He actually smiles when you're around.

And when Christmas comes once again he can't help but feel like it's a shame that you don't know about him. That you don't know that there's someone out there who loves you. Someone you've never even met.

A part of him wants to finally reveal himself and confess his feelings. But what if you reject him? What if you're disgusted by his ugliness like everyone else is? He wouldn't be able to go on if something like that happened. Maybe he'd snap and just kill you. He knows himself, and he knows that's something he'd probably do. So instead he decides not to reveal himself for now. However, he still wants to do something for you. Something to let you know that you aren't as alone as you may think.

You got an extra shift at work, hoping to work as much as possible so you could forget what time of year it was. But you had to go home eventually.

You take the alleyways home, wanting to avoid the main streets so you don't have to see the Christmas lights or hear the Christmas carols. You just want December to end already so things can be back to normal. So you don't have to remember the painful memories that this holiday brings.

As you approach your home you immediately notice that something's off. There is a faint glow in your window. But that can't be right. You know you couldn't afford any lights or decorations. And even if you could, you wouldn't have spent any money on them.

Hesitantly, you open the door. And nothing looks out of place or stolen. But there is a small tree in your living room.

It looks like it was torn out of the ground because the roots are still attached and there is frost on its leaves. It's propped half-hazardly against the wall. Sloppily decorated with red ribbons and random trinkets.

On the floor is a single candle, a note, and a crudely-wrapped box.

Did someone seriously break into your home to give you a tree and a Christmas present? This has to be some kind of joke right?

You're skeptical, but you decide to open the note anyways and give it a read.

"Dear Y/N,

You don't know me but I know you. I think you are very pretty. I am always here, even if you don't know it. You aren't as lonely as you think. Merry Christmas.

-Love G"

The handwriting is barely legible and what you can read sounds slightly creepy, like you might have some kind of stalker. But you can tell that whoever did this genuinely cares for you. Creepy or not. And your heart warms up at the thought that someone went out of their way to do this for you.

With teary eyes, you open the gift. Inside the small box is a beautiful bracelet with brilliant emeralds. You've never received such a thoughtful gift.

You hold the bracelet close, clutching it to your chest as tears stream down your cheeks. Overcome with gratitude and appreciation for this person that you don't even know. Yet they were so kind to do this for you anyway. Not even wanting to reveal themselves to receive praise and love, no. They just wanted you to be happy. They couldn't care less if you knew who it was really from. Seeing that smile on your face is more than enough for them.

"Thank you...," you mumble.

You don't receive a response but you can feel that someone is watching from the shadows, with a big toothy grin on his face.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

gen ; 871 words of pure complete caleb fluff for my personal comfort because i can't get this man out of my head (wow roxie posting fluff? girl what happened to you)

to be loved is to be seen.

a long day passed; he's there at the door. you can smell something simmering from the kitchen, the scent of comfort filling the room and maybe getting to your head a little... it's your favorite dish. you'd know that smell anywhere. and you've always liked it best when he cooks it...

he knows that.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he's pulling you in by the waist, not quite a hug, but rather a little bit of a once-over as he leans back to take a good look at you.

there's a pause.

the look in his eyes is gentle; fond. his head tilts, and there's something unsaid, unspoken, in the air between you...

you know the words on his lips before he says them.

"look at you, all pretty like that."

it's quiet, with a little bit of a chuckle.

"welcome back, pipsqueak."

typical caleb.

and this time there's a kiss on the tip of your nose, before he reaches a hand up to fix your hair— there's a piece of snow settled into it, and he knows that you don't like that. he'd brush it out for you, leave your hair neatly.

just the way you prefer it to be.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he knows more than you think.

you're an open book to him; maybe it's scary, and maybe it's a little unnerving, but—

maybe it's nice.

no words need to be shared.

he's happy to keep his arm around you, happy to wrap you up in blankets as you snuggle together on the couch and your favorite movie is playing softly on the screen in front of you. it's snowing outside, but you barely notice it; barely care. he keeps you warm from the cold. it's cozy. your head rests on his shoulder, and he hums quietly into your hair—and it's nice.

"it's been a long day," you murmur.

you blow your hair out from your face, and he fixes it right then for you. neat; the way you like it to be.

"oh, yeah? i could tell," he says. he chuckles—a little bit of a nudge in the form of a joke.

but he smiles.

"tell me about it, pipsqueak. i wanna listen."

to be loved is to be seen.

and maybe you scoff at him, but maybe you speak as he inclines. and maybe the movie's drowned out in the background, maybe all that you care about is the soft rumble of his chest when he laughs at the stupidest joke you've ever made in your life...

because deflect with humor, right? you've always done that. and he laughs, because you want him to laugh. and he reaches up to flick at your forehead. because he knows.

"you can be serious about it if you wanna, y'know," he shakes his head. "don't always gotta put on a strong front, 'specially not with me. so hit me. i'll take you seriously."

i'll take you seriously.

a safe space.

and they're simple words, because maybe you're not used to expressing yourself—

but he knows that.

he's used to it.

and he'll push you, a little, and you trust him to.

he knows that, too.

to be loved is to be seen.

and caleb knows a lot of things—what gets you angry, what gets you sad... the things you do to distract yourself, the things you like to eat. what makes you happy. when you're happy. your favorite show, your favorite song... that one article of clothing you'd always wear if you could, that book you keep on your shelf because the cover looks nice, but you haven't gotten around to reading it yet.

and he knows when you're tired.

he knows when all you need is for him to be there beside you, he knows when you've got something to say but you don't know how to say it.

he knows when you're pretending, too. when you want someone to breakthrough that little shell of yours, and say the words you want desperately to hear...

he knows.

because he sees you.

he sees you more than anyone else has, more than anyone else does. and not just with his eyes—with his heart. he knows you. he's engraved every little thing about you into the depths of his soul and he wouldn't have it any other way, not when he can hold you like this.

not when he knows how to.

not when he knows you want it to be this way.

and it's why he has his fingers running gently through your hair, peppering soft, tiny little kisses all over your face and relishing in the giggles that fall from your lips...

to be loved is to be seen.

"i love you, pipsqueak."

a soft murmur, a kiss into your hair.

"i love you a whole lot."

he knows you needed to hear that today, too.

and he means it.

because maybe there's no one else who could love you the way that he does; so whole, so loving, so pure, so... real.

you know that, too.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he sees you, and you see him.

to you, there's no greater love than that.

an : you know, real talk......... i really am truly sorry that the nuance of the caleb/mc relationship can't be translated into more western cultures that aren't used to this, i do believe it's kind of a shame 😭 because you have to understand that it's such a beautiful thing to be seen.... and i really feel that caleb encapsulates that especially given the nature of their relationship :( just. there's something so beautiful and comforting and warm about it and i had to get this out of my system before i go to bed 😭 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE 😭

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @radiantbrilliance @pikachuzhc @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association ++ also obligatorily tagging @unluckywisher (love u)

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[wilhelminyard]

compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who'll insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much (part 1) :

WYMACK :

"if your parents are a problem for you, we'll move you to south carolina early."

"foxes are foxes for a reason and they know we wouldn't sign you if you didn't qualify. that doesn't mean they know specifics. it's not my place to ask and I'm sure as hell not going to tell them."

"it's about second chances, neil. second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you."

"I have never, ever hit someone without provocation and I'm sure as hell not going to start with you. you hear me?"

"I'll take care of this. you take care of you."

"do you have any idea what could have happened to you between here and there? what were you thinking? you should have called me"

"any of us would have come and gotten you"

"it's not your job to take care of yourself anymore. it's your job to play, and mine and abby's job to look after you."

ANDREW :

"oh you might actually turn out to be interesting"

"you be something. kevin says you'll be a champion. four years and you'll go pro. five years and you'll be court."

"curious that a man with so much potential, who has so much fun, who could 'be something' wouldn't want any of it"

"a liar who practices occasional honesty. clever."

"are you going to tell kevin?" "don't ask me stupid questions"

"oh neil, as unpredictable as he is unreal"

"what would it take to make you stay?"

"I'll stand between you and the moriyamas"

"you gave your game to kevin. give your back to me."

KEVIN :

"neil is exactly what the foxes need right now. his inexperience is inconsequential. we went through a hundred files looking for a striker for this year, but neil is the only one we approached. we knew as soon as we saw him we needed to sign him. we're just lucky we got there before anyone else did"

"our primary concern was keeping neil safe"

"*to riko* leave him alone."

MATT :

"are you bleeding anywhere?"

"coach says [neil's] got potential. andrew says you're fast. [...] andrew bets you can outrun everyone on this team."

"seriously are you okay?"

"I'll owe you one" "you won't owe me anything"

"you be careful, okay?"

"I'm fine" "you say that a lot. I'm starting to think you don't know what it means."

"coach says stupid but I say you have balls of steel"

NICKY :

"neil, you clean up good"

"andrew is keeping you, same as he kept kevin. it means you're part of the family now. [...] family means something different with us because it has to. it's not about blood. it's not even about who we like. it's about who andrew's willing to protect."

"that makes you invaluable to andrew"

"you're one of us, which means we'll never push you further than you're willing to go"

DAN :

"are you okay?"

"coach said you hitchhiked your way back here. I'd yell at you for being stupid but coach said he handled that already"

"we didn't let him [in]. he didn't make it further than the front door."

"neil? you don't have to do this, you know"

ALLISON :

"looking fancy"

SETH :

"maybe you're not as stupid as I thought"

AARON :

(I know it surprised me too but it's probably the only compliment he gives neil throughout the entire series and they literally just met at that point)

"at least you're not going to completely drag us down. it'll take most the season to get you where we need you to be but I can see why kevin picked you"

[sekhmete]

Time doesn't exist and this, should comfort you.

knowing that nothing is going to scare you; because time doesn't exist. If you have this exam—and while you didn't study for it, it's okay. you could just decide that you're going to get full grades, and you will.

it's all in assumption. "normal"(also an assumption) societal rules do not apply to you! it's all an assumption! and getting a bad grade because you didn't study is an assumption! getting the best grade even if you didn't study is also an assumption! whatever you assume is what's going to happen. So if you assume that you're going to get everything you want Before Christmas you're going to get everything you want before Christmas. if you assume that you're going to get into the void before the year ends, then yes. you're going to get into the void before the year ends!

It's only you and your assumptions. nothing else.

because, like I said, societal rules do not apply to you, you make the rules, you have full control over your life nothing and no one can control you unless you give them the power, and therefore still proving that no one has control over you because. YOU chose to give them power. And, any time you can take back that power and have full control over your life.

With the law, you should know that anything, and I mean, ANYTHING could be changed because it's all assumptions!

you could just choose to unsubscribe from a certain assumption, and it's no longer yours to bear.

You could shift realities in an instance, you could get in to the voice state in an instance.

You could have wings, you can manifest anyone you want, you could create people out of thin air. You could have super powers. You could have magic, you can have anything you want in your reality, because it's yours, you could be immortal, you could be shifting forever, you could be reincarnating, you could Respawn, you could be anything and anyone and do anything (and anyone LMAO)

And also. Don't be held back because it "doesn't seem normal" or "human" to you, like I said, societal rules do not apply to you ( also, who decided what "human" should be? Other people? their assumptions? will you let other people and their assumptions control you??) nothing is normal. We're living on a floating rock in the middle of nowhere and parallel universes have been proven to exist BY A SUPERCOMPUTER ( mind you, people were so quick to trust a computer and not trust actual people when they told them that other universes and other realities exist! When in fact, it's more illogical to trust a machine than to trust an actual human!) NAMED WILLOW even though we've known this for very long time.

we're a miracle. Honestly, you didn't come to this earth to suffer. didn't come to this earth to be anything that you don't want, you have a life, and you can control it so control it!