#I've decided none of them have ever seen a baby before

[dooblebrain]

my new hobby is drawing cursed Joshuas (featuring the science team)

[msbigredmachine]

Die With A Smile (tbnd au)

They are the most wanted, the most feared, the most worshipped. A couple bound by lust, violence, and an unshakable love that only burns hotter with every crime they commit. He’s the muscle, she’s the fire, and together, they are unstoppable. The world calls them criminals, outlaws, the devil’s own...but to each other, they are salvation.

With the law closing in, they know their story can only end one way. But if they go down, they’ll go down together. And they’ll die with a smile.

Pairing: Criminal!Roman Reigns x Criminal!Ivy

Warnings: DARK themes, smut, violence

Word Count: 3.8k

TBND MASTERLIST

A/N: So, this was my initial reaction to this Ask. But I thought about it again, and went...why not? Also I've seen how most readers have reacted to the current TBND arc, so I decided to go off script a bit. Hope you enjoy!

The motel room stinks of sweat, sex, and gunpowder. The sheets are tangled around their bodies, damp from heat and the hours they’ve spent tangled together—moaning, grasping, taking.

Ivy is sprawled across the mattress, her naked body glowing in the dim motel light, a cigarette balanced between her fingers. Her boyfriend Roman is beside her, his broad chest still rising and falling from the weight of their latest round. His palm rests lazily on her thigh, long fingers stroking over her bare skin like he’s memorizing her all over again.

“You ever think about it?” she murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion and something softer.

He exhales, rolling onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he looks at her. “What?”

“Our future. That little house.” She flicks ash onto the nightstand. “White picket fence. Babies running around.”

Roman drags his fingers up her thigh, over her stomach, brushing his knuckles between her breasts before cupping her chin. “That ain’t for people like us, baby.”

She turns her head to look at him, her lips curling into a sad little smile. “I know,” she whispers, “but one can only dream.”

Roman doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves, slow and easy, pressing his lips to her throat, kissing his way down to the valley between her breasts, tracing his tongue over the sweat-slicked skin. She exhales sharply, her fingers tangling in his hair as he moves lower, hands spreading her thighs apart again.

They’ll never have that house.

But they’ll have this.

And it’ll be enough.

The Beginning 

The first time they meet, Ivy already knows how it’s going to end.

She’s seen men like him before—tall, dark, brooding, money-heavy and dangerous. But none of them have ever looked at her like that. Like he already knows the way she sounds when she moans, how she’ll taste on his tongue. Like he’s already decided she’s his.

He’s watching her from the VIP section of the club she strips at, sprawled in the booth like a king, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease muscle and ink. There’s a gold watch on his wrist, a thick chain around his neck, and a look in his eye that makes her pulse quicken.

She’s not supposed to interact with the patrons unless they pay. He hasn’t paid. But when she struts past, his hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around her wrist.

She stops. Raises a brow. “Touching’s extra.”

His grin is slow and confident. “Ain’t about the money, baby.”

The way he says it—deep and lazy, voice dripping over her like warm honey—makes her pussy clench. She yanks her wrist back. “Then what’s it about?”

Roman leans in, close enough that she can smell his cologne—dark and masculine, like smoke and whiskey. His voice drops low, thick like honey. “It’s about me wantin' you.”

She doesn’t know why she plays into it. Maybe it’s the way he looks at her, or maybe it’s the way her body responds, like she already knows where this is heading.

“You talkin' real big,” she murmurs, eyes flicking down to his full lips. “Think you can back that shit up?”

His eyes darken.

Within the hour, she’s slammed against the brick wall behind the club, dress bunched up around her waist, legs wrapped around his thick body.

Roman groans as he thrusts into her, one hand gripping her hip, the other fisting in her hair. Her nails claw at his back, at his arms, desperate to hold on as he takes her apart, dragging pleasure out of her with deep, punishing strokes.

“This pussy is mine now,” he growls against her lips, teeth scraping, biting. “You’re mine. You hear me?”

She gasps, body shuddering, surrendering. His mouth is everywhere—her neck, her breasts, her lips—hungry, scorching, devouring. His hands grip her thighs so tight she knows she’ll bruise.

By the time he’s done with her, she can barely stand.

She doesn’t even know his name. But she already knows she belongs to him.

She doesn’t know that she's just let the devil between her legs.

But she already knows that she’ll never want to let him go.

Partners In Crime

She robs her first bank a month later.

It’s easy for Roman. Too easy. He walks in, calm as hell, AK-47 swinging at his side like it’s a goddamn accessory. Ivy is in the getaway car, engine running, her heart pounding.

She watches him through the windshield, sees the way people shrink when he moves, the way the bank manager practically pisses himself handing over the cash.

And then he walks out like he owns the world, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his smirk lazy, devilish, and satisfied. He slides into the passenger seat, tosses the bag onto her lap, and says, “Drive, baby.”

She does.

And she never stops.

Roman is more than just muscle and a pretty face—more than the brute force the world assumes him to be. He’s calculating, meticulous, sharper than the knives strapped to his belt, deadlier than the bullets in his gun. Every heist is a battle, every escape a game of strategy, and he plays to win. He studies blueprints like scripture, memorizes exits before they ever step inside, exploits weaknesses before anyone even knows they’re vulnerable. His mind is a weapon, just as lethal as his fists. And he’s been perfecting his craft for far longer than he’ll ever admit.

Ivy watches him work, watches him command, calculate, conquer—and it thrills her. Turns her on. There’s nothing sexier than watching her man outsmart the world, bending it to his will. Because she’s learned that when Roman Reigns has a plan, nothing and no one can stop him.

She also learns to be more than just the getaway driver. She’s the one who distracts, deceives, and manipulates when needed, using her charm and wit to slip past security, talk her way out of tight spots, and keep the heat off Roman. Whether it’s charming a bank teller into silence or slipping into a high-stakes poker game unnoticed, she knows how to play people like a pro. Her beauty and brains make her the perfect accomplice, and she loves every moment of it. Together, they are a well-oiled machine, each one complementing the other’s strengths and instincts.

They become legends.

From banks to jewelry stores to high-stakes poker games, they leave a trail of empty vaults and cold bodies across six states, their spree turning them into America’s most wanted. They move like shadows, strike like ghosts, and vanish before anyone can catch them.

The media can’t get enough—two dangerously beautiful outlaws, madly in love, untouchable. They christen them The Blood Money Lovers, their names whispered like myth, their faces splashed across headlines.

The Sexiest Criminals in America.

The Lovers Who Kill.

Wanted: Dead or Alive.

Roman and Ivy lean into it.

They pose for security cameras, tongues down each other’s throats, middle fingers up. Ivy leaves lipstick prints on crime scene notes. They fuck on stolen money, moaning into each other’s mouths, high on adrenaline and the knowledge that they’re too good to be caught.

They live for the rush—the heists, the gunfire, the chase—but nothing gets them higher than each other.

The convertible barrels down the open highway, the sun bleeding into the horizon, casting them in gold. The backseat is stuffed with duffel bags of stolen cash, the scent of money thick in the air, but it’s not the loot that has Ivy breathless—it’s Roman.

One hand on the wheel, the other buried in her pussy, fingers stroking, teasing, owning. Ivy moans out loud, her head lolling back against the seat, hips shifting as he plays her like his favorite weapon—with skill, with intent, with absolute control.

He smirks, eyes dark, voice rough. “Yeah, scream for me, baby,” he orders, staring at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Because she is.

Adrenaline is their drug. Love is their religion. And the knowledge that they’re untouchable? That’s what sends them over the edge, again and again.

Soulmates, bound by blood, bullets, and an unholy kind of devotion.

The Hunter

Cody Rhodes is a problem.

The kind that doesn’t scare easy, doesn’t quit, and doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

At first, they brush him off—just another badge, another fool chasing ghosts. But ghosts don’t leave trails, and Cody? He’s on their scent like a wolf starving for the kill. He’s relentless. He’s ruthless. He’s getting too damn close.

He’s not just some lawman playing hero. He’s filth wrapped in a badge, a predator disguised as justice. He beats the truth out of informants, holds families hostage with threats that don’t feel empty, leaves bodies behind like breadcrumbs. The media worships him, paints him as the last good man in a world of criminals.

But Roman and Ivy know better. They see the blood he spills, the bones he breaks, the fear he leaves in his wake. And soon, Cody makes the mistake of turning that cruelty on them.

Ivy’s pulse pounds in her ears as she weaves through the crowded marketplace, her hood pulled low over her face. Cody is behind her—too close, too fast, too fucking relentless.

She ducks between fruit stands, knocking over crates of oranges, hears them roll across the pavement as people curse and scatter. But Cody doesn’t slow down.

“Ohh Ivyyyy!” he sings through gritted teeth, his voice loud and ripping through the chaos.

Shit.

She bursts into a side alley, feet skidding on wet concrete. It's a dead end.

A brick wall looms in front of her, too high to climb in time. Ivy whirls around, reaching for the gun tucked in her waistband.

A car screeches to a stop at the alley’s entrance. The passenger door flies open.

“Get in!” Sami yells from behind the wheel, his wild red hair barely tamed under a baseball cap.

Ivy doesn’t hesitate. She launches herself into the car just as Cody rounds the corner, gun drawn.

Bang!

The bullet shatters the back windshield as Sami slams the gas. The car fishtails before rocketing forward, leaving Cody furious and empty-handed in the dust.

Ivy slumps back, chest heaving, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Close one,” Sami mutters, knuckles white on the wheel.

Ivy tucks her gun away. “You love this shit, don’t lie.”

Sami groans. “You two are gonna get me killed.”

She laughs, feeling the adrenaline rush through her veins. “Not today, Zayn.”

The Contact

Sami Zayn wasn’t always a getaway driver, but prison changes a man. He met Roman on the inside, back when survival meant choosing sides, and Sami had none. A shank to the ribs would’ve been his fate if Roman hadn’t stepped in, snapping the attacker’s arm like it was nothing. From that day on, Sami owed him—a debt not paid with words, but with action. So when Roman and Ivy needed someone with quick hands and an even quicker engine, Sami didn’t hesitate. Loyalty runs deep, and in their world, debts are always collected.

The safe house is a run-down apartment on the edge of town, the kind of place no one looks twice at. Sami pulls up fast, tires screeching, and Ivy is already moving before the car fully stops.

Roman is waiting.

He steps out from the shadows of the doorway, broad and imposing, a blunt dangling between his fingers. His sharp eyes rake over her, searching, checking.

She barely gets the car door shut before he’s on her.

“You good, baby?” His voice is low, rough with the kind of worry he’d never admit to anyone but her.

Ivy smirks, something more than adrenaline crackling through her. “Never been better, daddy.”

His big hands grip her face, pulling her against him, hard enough to steal her breath. His lips crash into hers—hot, hungry, possessive—like he’s staking his claim all over again.

Sami groans from the driver’s seat. “Can y’all save that shit for later?”

Roman ignores him, tilting Ivy’s chin up, his fingers gentle even as his voice darkens. “Did Rhodes touch you?”

Ivy shakes her head. “Didn’t get the chance.”

A dangerous glint flickers in Roman’s eyes before he finally looks at Sami. “You did good, man.”

Sami scoffs. “Yeah, yeah. You two get to keep your little crime-spree romance going for another day. You’re welcome.”

Ivy grins, leaning into Roman’s chest as his arms stay locked around her.

Before dawn, they're out of there. They never stay long.

The High

The night air is thick and humid as they prowl another set of streets in another state, hunting for another score. Roman’s fingers tap against the steering wheel, his mind already on the job. Ivy sits beside him, legs kicked up on the dashboard, her eyes flashing with the same excitement that always comes before they raise a little hell.

They pull up outside a high-end jewelry store, the kind of place rich assholes get their diamonds from. It’s late, the streets are quiet. Perfect timing.

Roman smirks. “You ready, baby?”

Ivy grins, pulling her mask over her face. “Always.”

In less than five minutes, chaos erupts.

Glass shatters. Alarms wail.

They move fast—Roman grabbing the high-value pieces, Ivy keeping her gun trained on the trembling night guard. No witnesses, no mistakes.

Then...

Another siren.

Cops.

Ivy shoots Roman a look. He grins. They love the chase.

They bolt, slipping out the back, vanishing into the night before the blue lights even hit the front of the store. Another crime. Another escape.

Tomorrow, the news will be buzzing with their names again.

They wouldn’t have it any other way.

They celebrate under the dim lights of their hotel room, the air thick with the scent of sweat, dollar bills, and something even more intoxicating—sex.

Roman has Ivy right where he wants her. Bent over the mahogany dresser, her body naked and trembling. His big hands roam; rough, possessive, needy. He caresses her thighs and her ass, then rests them on her waist, keeping her pinned down as he drives into her with hard, punishing thrusts.

Ivy gasps, her head falling forwards, her lips parting in a broken moan. “Fuck, daddy…”

“Damn, you fucking wet.” Roman’s voice is low, teasing, dripping with sin as his fingers tangle in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her whimper. He drags his mouth along her jawline, up to her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down her spine. “You like that, baby girl? Like how daddy fucks this tight pussy, huh?”

She doesn’t answer, not with words.

She can’t.

Instead, she moans again, arching into him, throwing her ass back just the way he likes it, taking everything he gives her and begging for more.

Roman chuckles darkly, his free hand sliding down between her thighs, his touch enough to send her spiraling. “I knew you’d love this shit.” His voice turns softer, more reverent, even as his grip remains firm. “You love me, baby?”

Ivy shudders beneath him, her fingers digging into the wood of the dresser. She's in love with him. In love with the way he owns her, how he wrecks her and makes her feel alive all at once.

“Roman!” She gasps his name, the only answer he needs.

He yanks her off the dresser, lifting her effortlessly and dumping her onto the pile of stolen cash scattered across the bed, crisp bills sticking to her damp skin. He climbs on top of her, his weight pressing her into everything they’ve stolen, everything they’ve taken.

His mouth claims hers in a hot, searing kiss. And then, his dick slides back in and his hips roll, causing her nails to rake down his back, leaving deep, red lines in his flesh. He growls against her throat, the sharp sting only fueling him more. As their bodies move together in perfect, reckless harmony, he exhales three words against her lips—words he’s never spoken before.

“I love you.”

Ivy’s breath catches, her pussy seizing around him. Her heart pounds, her vision swims at the sight of his heart in his eyes.

She opens her mouth, but he kisses her before she can say it back.

Because he already knows.

Because she’s his, just as much as he’s hers.

Forever.

The Message

Rhodes storms their old safe house, hunting them like an animal. It’s empty, neither of them to be found.

But he finds Sami.

Hours later, he sends them a message. A Polaroid.

Ivy’s hands shake as she stares at the picture.

Sami, beaten to death, hands zip-tied behind his back, his blood soaking his red hair and beard like a grotesque crimson mask. Cody’s boot planted on his pulseless neck, as if claiming a trophy.

The meaning is clear: I’m coming for you.

Ivy’s breath turns shallow, panic clawing up her throat. “Roman, what the fuck are we gonna do?!”

“Calm down.” His jaw is tight. His hands ball into fists. He’s seething, but he won’t show it.

“Calm down?” Ivy’s eyes water. “Sami is dead, Roman! That sick fuck…he…” Her voice cracks, a rare slip in composure. She presses her palms into her temples, trying to block out the image burned into her mind.

“Baby, look at me.” Roman grips her wrists, forcing her gaze to his. “We gon' handle this. Like we always do.”

Ivy’s chest rises and falls, her breath uneven. She searches his face, the ice-cold rage simmering beneath the surface.

He takes the Polaroid and holds it to the flame of his lighter. They watch in silence as the edges curl, blacken, disintegrate into nothing. A life reduced to ash.

Like Sami’s.

Roman steps behind her, arms sliding around her waist, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His voice is a vow, a death sentence.

“We’ll kill him first,” he murmurs. “That motherfucker is gonna pay. I promise.”

Ivy closes her eyes, the firelight flickering against her lids. She exhales, steady now. Nods.

The End

It happens in New Orleans.

Their last job is one final score before disappearing forever. The plan is airtight, the timing perfect. But something feels off. Roman is restless. Ivy is uneasy.

The familiar wail of sirens erupt.

They barely make it out the back before the cops swarm. Rhodes is leading the charge, his icy blue eyes wild, his face twisted in victory, his gun already drawn.

They run.

But this time, the streets are blocked. Security armed to the teeth. There’s nowhere to go.

Roman pulls Ivy into an alley, his grip bruising. “We fight.”

Ivy nods. “Till the end.”

A painful moment drags by before he crushes his mouth to hers, desperate and wild, their lips colliding like gunfire. She tastes like cigarettes and adrenaline, like love and death.

“Let’s fuck shit up,” she whispers, her voice wavering even as she licks the blood from his lip.

Roman smirks, bittersweet and resigned. “Yeah, baby.”

Then they charge.

Bullets rip through the air, bleeds chaos around them—sirens screaming, bodies dropping.

Roman and Ivy move as one, cutting through the night like death itself. Every shot is precise, every kill ruthless. They fight with the desperation of people who have always known their ending would come in a hail of gunfire.

Ivy is ahead of him, her lithe, beautiful body swaying gracefully as she reloads her Remington, ducks, shoots, kills. She’s fucking perfect, his queen, his ride-or-die.

Then—

Bang!

The sound tears through the air, louder than the rest.

Ivy jerks. Violently.

Her breath catches, her gun slipping from her grasp. She stares down at herself, at the thick, red stain blooming across her stomach, fingers twitching as if she can stop the inevitable.

Roman’s heart stops.

Another shot.

Agony explodes through his side, knocking him back. His vision tunnels, pain ripping through every nerve. But none of it fucking matters.

Because Ivy is falling.

And standing there, gun still raised, is Cody fucking Rhodes.

Smirking. Smug. Like he’s already won.

Roman sees red.

Everything in him burns, fury swallowing the pain in his body whole. A fucking bullet isn’t going to stop him. Nothing will.

With a ragged snarl, he raises his gun and fires.

The first bullet hits Cody in the shoulder, knocking him back. The second shatters his ribs. But Roman isn’t done.

No one—no one—touches his girl.

With blood pouring down his own side, Roman staggers forward, towering over Cody’s faltering frame. He grips his Beretta with both hands, breathing hard, and aims it square at his enemy’s skull.

Rhodes gasps, face twisting with shock and fear. He tries to lift his own gun, but Roman is faster.

The last thing Cody Rhodes ever sees is Roman Reigns’ cold, merciless rage.

Bang!

The bullet rips through Cody’s skull, snapping his head back in a gruesome spray of blood, drenching the blond in his hair. His body crumples like a useless sack of flesh, his gun clattering beside him.

Roman doesn’t waste another second.

He’s already collapsing beside Ivy, hands pressing against her wound, desperate, shaking. “Stay with me, baby.” His voice is raw, thick with pain; for him, but more for her.

She smiles at him. That soft, lazy smile that made him fall in love with her in the first place. “Baby…It looks like we’re outta time.”

Roman shakes his head, a sharp, pained growl leaving his throat. “No. Fuck that. You’re not leaving me.”

But he already knows.

Her blood is warm against his palm. Her fingers grasp at his shirt weakly, tugging him closer, even as the light in her eyes starts to fade.

The sirens are closing in.

Boots stomp against pavement. More cops. More guns. More death.

Roman knows how this ends.

He leans down, presses his lips to hers, their noses brushing, their breaths mingling. His trembling fingers lace through hers, his grip just as tight as the first time he ever touched her.

She smiles.

“Till the end,” she whispers. 

Her lashes stop fluttering. Her eyes remain open, but they’re no longer seeing.

His chest caves in. His heart shatters.

“Till the end,” he vows.

Then, with the last of his strength, he grabs his gun and rises.

They won’t take him alive.

With one final, defiant roar, he opens fire.

Bullets rip through his body. He staggers, drops to one knee. But he keeps shooting, keeps fighting, keeps going, because this was never about surviving.

This was about dying on his feet and being with the only woman he’s ever loved.

By the time the final bullet finds his heart, he’s already smiling.

Because in his last breath, he swears he can still feel Ivy’s lips against his. He can see that big ass house with the white picket fence in Hartford, Connecticut, a pair of twin boys and their little sister running around the backyard. Just like she wanted.

Head resting on her bloodied lap, he exhales.

And then, nothing. 

Two heartbeats extinguished.

The Blood Money Lovers die how they lived—bloody, reckless, and madly in love.

THE END

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[forfucksakesniall]

Protective Daddy

Pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Lewis and his partner decide to reveal their pregnancy to the world.

Word count: 889

After Lewis announced your pregnancy on Instagram, everyone's questions and assumptions have been answered.

A picture of your ultrasound and your belly with his face squished next to it.

Lewis is known for his private lifestyle, but he has recently felt the need to address rumors and accusations that have been circulating about him. Speculation has arisen regarding his involvement with certain models and allegations of cheating, including taking them back to hotels, among other things. However, none of these rumors are true, and Lewis felt it was time to clear the air.

On the other side of all that nonsense, you and Lewis have been together for a while now, five years to be exact. He has done some pretty good work on keeping things on the down-low. People knew who you were, but not enough to make too much noise. They knew you guys were dating; you've been seen in a few of the races and even outside the tracks.

But in these few months, people noticed your absence in some of them, and that's how the rumors started bubbling.

Lewis was seen with some people on and off the tracks due to mutual friends, but this caught the attention of paparazzi and gossip sites. As a result, people are slowly assuming that you either broke up or he was cheating.

During all the commotion, you were in Monaco, living the life in Lewis’ apartment. You were laying down on the bed, enjoying your pregnancy cravings.

However, after one too many instances of sneaking your hands into the cookie jar, Lewis caught you red-handed.

“Lew, can I please have one more cookie?” you asked with wide, begging eyes.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" he replied, taking the jar off the nightstand. You, already on edge from your hormones, did the only logical thing and start pouting.

"But..." your voice trailed off.

As you looked up at him then down at your belly, Lewis sighed, "Fine..."

“I love you, Lewis,” you said.

With a small hint of amusement in his voice, Lewis replied, "Are you just saying that because you want the cookies back?"

"No," you answered.

"Then what, my love?" he teases you. "Because if you don't have a good reason, I'm taking this back." while he holds the jar hostage.

"Because.... you.. are... such a good daddy to our baby for giving his mommy what she needs," you replied.

Lewis unable to hide the smile from spreading across his face.

"I'm the best daddy that our little one could have ever asked for," he agreed, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on your cheek.

"So, what about that cookie now?" you asked.

"Hmm..." Lewis hummed in thought, his lips pursing as he pondered his answer.

"You know, maybe one more cookie wouldn't be so bad for mummy," he eventually conceded.

"Of course not," you replied happily.

While you enjoy your last cookie for today, Lewis is on his phone, and his face is obviously distraught.

"What is it?" you ask.

Still not looking at you, Lewis replies, "What is what?"

He seems annoyed whatever was on his phone and is waiting for you to elaborate.

"I know that look. What's wrong?" you ask.

With a sigh, Lewis finally looks over at you and runs a hand at the back of his neck. He pauses before answering.

"I've been reading these... rumors. People have been saying that I'm seen with other women and that we aren't together anymore."

"Well... were you with other women?" you ask.

With a sigh, Lewis leans back against the bed, crossing his arms across his chest. He seems to ponder your question before replying.

"No, I haven't been with other women."

After a moment, he continues, "At least... not in a physical sense. There have been some... conversations with other women, but nothing that should be considered cheating."

"Hmm," you say, curious.

After a few moments of silence, Lewis finally speaks to you again.

"Do you believe them?"

You smile at him. "Of course not. I think it's just that people don't know about my pregnancy, so now they're making up some weird rumors."

Lewis nods slowly, his expression softening as you reassure him.

"Good, my love," he says, using the affectionate term. "Let them talk. They don't know the truth."

Lewis then moves closer to you and wraps his arm around you.

"You and I... we know what is really happening."

"Yeah... but it bothers you," you say.

Lewis is quiet for a moment, then replies, "Of course it does."

He sighs and pulls you a bit closer to his larger frame.

"I may not show it, but I care very much about you, and what people say about us matters to me."

"I know, babe," you say, cradling his face and leaning in for a kiss.

Lewis smiles slightly and gently responds to your kiss, wrapping his hands around your waist.

He pulls you into his embrace, his lips gently pressing against yours while one of his hands rests on your stomach.

Lewis pauses for a moment as though contemplating something.

"I think we should tell everyone that you are pregnant with our child," he says softly.

He seems to be thinking about the consequences of such a public reveal.

"It's a big step, but it would stop the rumors in their tracks..."

"Are you sure?" you ask.

"I want it to be official. Not just between us, but for everyone else to know as well," he says.

Lewis's arms tighten around you.

"You are carrying my child, and I want the world to know," he whispers.

"Okay then," you say.

"Let's go tell the world about our little one," he says sweetly.

With one last kiss, Lewis pulls back and smiles at you.

[shadow4-1]

Your hubby let u sleep with his friends ??? okkk girll i see you living the life we all want too (share ur secrets😣)

Oops I forgot I said that. Well...yes it's true. I've slept with a handful of my husband's friends (all of it was talked about beforehand, planned out, etc.)

Both my husband and I are bisexual. All of his friends he's had for years - since they were babies pretty much. They're all exceptionally close and they've experimented a lot together before I ever even came into the picture.

Besides my husband, none of them have girlfriends or wives (they're all in their late 20s now). I used to think it was a red flag but now I just realize they're all just tied to each other and fulfil their emotional needs that way. In fact, two of them are identical twins. They were suspicious when they met me at first (but after I witnessed a couple of them kissing my husband, let's just say they quickly came to realize I was definitely the girl for him).

(This picture is almost 10 years old. That's my husband in the blue jacket with half his friend group. We went out to a club, so all of us were piss drunk in the back of that taxi.)

Now, I'm not going to generalize Scottish men/people. I'm just going to give ya'll a rundown on what I've learned/observed over my multiple trips to Scotland. I've noticed that they tend to -

- Be chivalrous. Not a single guy I met (husband or otherwise) was rude or didn't use his manners the whole time I was there. And if they were amongst friends they had no issue with calling each other out for their bad behavior. Now that, that was nice to see. (So, yes, Soap's definitely has his manners and knows how to follow decorum well.)

- Be loud. Almost every man I met was boisterous and bright. Even the quiet ones (once I got them to talk) were animated. The culture over there is different than America (where I'm from), everyone seems to know everyone. So no one is seemingly scared of "strangers", they're usually pretty curious. (So, yes, Soap's talkative and interesting personality checks out.)

- Fight. Now, this one is because I spent a lot of time in bars. Again, unlike America, it's different. They don't carry guns (maybe a knife but even that's not the norm). Usually it's just a lot of posturing, yelling, and intimidation. But, if they actually decide to swing, usually the crowd will break it up and/or throw them outside. Fighting over there is kind of seen as a necessary evil. (So, yes, when they say Soap is a bit of a hot head and hops into fights I can definitely confirm it.)

- Welcome with open arms. I'm a plus size POC and most of the people you'll find in Scotland are Caucasian. You'd think there'd be some friction between me and the locals, but no. Not once was I ever treated unfairly by anyone. In fact, people loved to chat with me. I spent a lot of my time talking with strangers. (So, yes, Soap not batting an eye at Ghost and his ridiculous get up is on brand. He cares much more about getting to know the person underneath.)

I could go on. Maybe one day I'll be able to live my retirement years in Scotland. It's beautiful and green and walkable. Also they have Irn Bru, Jammie Dodgers, and my absolute favorite - Bairns Sausage Rolls. I'd immigrate just for those haha!

So yeah, I know a think or two, and Soap is a pretty great Scottish representation in my opinion. My husband is indifferent to him but maybe it's because he seems the similarities haha. If you want to hear more about my trysts I have no problem sharing! I've seen a lot and done alot in my short time here on Earth and trust me when I say I'm not stopping anytime soon! 😂

[weirdofish]

Oooooh baby oh baby! I originally was only going to draw Eggman wearing the Gerudo outfit from BotW/TotK until I decided to put Sonic and Shadow in it as well. Eggman was the most annoying to work on because whenever I thought I was done I wound up having to keep going back to fix little things over and over again. I don't think I've seen anyone draw these guys in that outfit before, especially Eggman. Like, seriously, has anyone ever drawn that or am I going crazy? (I've also never seen him play a hurdy-gurdy, but that's not the point of this, is it?) I know the face masks aren't actually transparent but I made them that way to show off the mouths.

[ar3s-r4t-qu33n]

Idfc if he's real or not, he's still worse written than Eddie. Also the problem is in his fans that are making him no guilty, innocent baby and always refering that Coyle/Eddie/Everybody else im outlast are the same. And if you think it'll work, try to compare Walker (with PTSD after war) with Franco (who is just a sicko). Anyway Barbi's simps are way more agressive than any other fans when you say something bad, what's a fact, about a grown ass man. I feel like those people are just little kids who are getting upset after school and shouldn't play the game ;) When I see all those comments with "He'S mY PoOkIE" I'm getting sick... Ya'll should get a brain

Guys look!! I got one!!

You don't deserve a response, because if you were old enough to be playing Outlast, you would be able to figure out that shaming people for (checks notes) liking a fictional character in a horror series? Is plain stupid.

It would also serve you well to maybe do some spell check before you come into my asks like this. I'd take you more seriously if you maybe drafted this one more time, but here we go:

First of all, you don't know me. You can check out my like, five posts and see that only two of em are Franco related and none of them baby him. In fact, I don't think I've seen a post yet by anyone who says "Franco is a sweet, innocent baby who did no wrong" because... That's the point. He's interesting BECAUSE he's done shit wrong. We are playing Outlast. Everyone is complex and awful and interesting. Just because not every post is marked with a little footnote that says "oh by the way everyone, Franco is a bad, bad man 🥺 I don't support his actions, I'm not a Franco defender, I just wanted to draw him being silly 🥺" doesn't mean we're all out here claiming he's a saint. The fact that he's a fucked up lil guy is why we like him. I feel like that's a given with all Outlast characters? But that's just me after being a fan of this franchise for years now, idk, being able to step back and analyse a community to see what they enjoy about something is quite a fun and easy task, I recommend giving it a try instead of coming into "loser nobody who has been on Tumblr for like a week's" asks to complain to me like I can put all the Franco fans in the corner until they learn to interpret characters the way you have decided is objectively correct.

But even if they are "babying" him and apparently ignoring that this is the Outlast series and Franco is a character from Outlast... Oh no! What horror! Someone is misinterpreting a VIDEO GAME CHARACTER what a terrible and unique crime!

Franco "just a sicko" Barbi was abused and neglected by his father, his mother was murdered, and he only ever received affection after he killed someone. But yeah, he was just born fucked up whereas every other Outlast character earned their trauma and the right to kill the player. What a senseless and just untrue take and I'm sure you know that, you just want to complain because that's all you people like to do. You want to feel morally superior over someone because you don't understand why they feel the way they do instead of just moving on and ignoring them like any other sensible adult would. Because who's actually getting hurt if some people think Franco is their lil Pookie? Is it you? Does it cause you psychic damage? Because last I checked, this is the internet. We are responsible for ourselves, so unless somebody is actually hurting anyone...

Block the Franco tag. You are brave enough to type out this whole message to a stranger online and act morally superior because comparing which video game character deserves the right to kill you is THE most mature thing in the world, so you're definitely brave enough to block the tag and move on.

You are responsible for what you see online, but ESPECIALLY on Tumblr, it is so so easy to hide content you don't want to see, and mind your own business. Quite frankly, I don't care if I come across as aggressive here. You came into my asks about a tag/fandom you clearly aren't in trying to act like you're better than the rest of us. That's pretty damn aggressive, wouldn't you say?

This is Outlast. A game about fucked up guys doing fucked up shit, and we love them for it. If that is too much for you, if the mommy issues gangster is too crazy for you but Eddie and Trager and Knoth and Coyle are completely fine, no questions asked? I don't think this series is for you. Sexual horror is a staple of Outlast. Childhood trauma is a staple of Outlast. You can't be shocked when people respond to a new character in a video game they like.

YOU are not better than me because you like Chris Walker and I like Franco Barbi. I can't believe you need to be told this, we are all in the same uncomfortable freakshow cesspit that is The Outlast Fandom, no one is morally good. No one is better than anyone else. You cannot claim moral superiority over any character because at the end of the day, I can point to Wernicke and say with my full chest that he is objectively the worst because he's a literal nazi, and what then? Are you going to tell me that Franco is worse than a nazi? The debate is over, in the list of "who is the worst of these awful people", Wernicke wins hands DOWN. The point is null because EVERYONE SUCKS HERE!!! THAT'S THE POINT!!!!

Is that enough for you? Or are you gonna keep harassing people through your alts or getting your friends to do it? I can go alllllll day, baby, you ain't making me feel bad about my interests in the O U T L A S T fandom, dear GOD, this is ridiculous. Don't fucking condescend me, telling me to "get a brain" you don't KNOW ME, I am a stranger to you, why do you feel comfortable coming onto my blog harassing me about a video game character? That's not a good look for you and now it is immortalised here. Anonymous or not, you still did this. Whoever you are, you typed that out and sent it to a random person you do not know and felt comfortable enough to do so.

That's weird.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.187 Passing the keys

That night, I went back to the rental website to fill the vacancy because it didn't make sense to wait. The house had been sitting all this time, waiting to generate income for us, and it was past time I did something about it. I decided to rent to the older gentlemen, but his application was no longer available. I was kind of bummed because I had already formed a picture in my mind of what he would be like based on the information he shared on the application, and now I'd have to start over. The plus side is that I found a young family like I originally wanted, so I accepted their application right away. In the morning, I got a notification saying they had moved in already, so I went over there after breakfast to introduce myself and get to know them. The application stated they were a married couple with twin infants. The house wasn't exactly setup for two babies, but they can make it work.

As I approached the door, I overheard them arguing, and my whole body tensed up. They reminded me of Mama's friends, who stayed with us and argued literally day and night. I hope to the Watcher these two are not like that. I pressed my ear to the door to see if I could get an idea of what the issue was. It turns out the woman was flustered because she saw a lost dog who needed help but ignored it. She felt guilty about it and wanted to go back and find the dog, but the husband didn't get it. He was very dismissive and said dogs get lost all the time and it was none of her business if someone can't keep track of their animal. Oh boy. This better not be a bad omen. I knocked, hoping to interrupt him berating her, and they let me in. Owen and Jilliana Sage are their names. Owen works at a store and seemed to have a good sense of humor, so maybe he's not so bad. Jilliana is more serious and super smart. She works at the space center, but I don't remember what she said she does there.

She tried to introduce me to the babies, Xavier and Zahava, but they both started screaming because Owen had the TV way too loud. Xavier calmed down enough to let me hold him, though. He was so tiny and made me miss Desiree at that age. I didn't intend to spend the day with them, and they clearly had things to do, so I told them to call me if they needed anything and made my exit.

I had to pass by Chi Chi's house on the way back home, so I stopped by to tell her we were moving to Gibbs Gardens soon. She was bummed about not being around the corner from us anymore, but relieved we weren't leaving the city. Behind her eyes, however, there seemed to be more than just disappointment at losing her favorite neighbor. I asked if something was wrong, and in Chi Chi-like fashion, I got way more than I bargained for.

As she began this tale, my initial reaction was to beat myself up again about not being a good friend because the details of her story started a while ago. But I stopped those thoughts before my brain ran away with them. We all have super busy lives. No one has time to be involved at such a granular level anymore, and no one is expecting us to know everything. I am a good friend, and I don't have to know every detail to prove it. Come to think about it, my friends—minus Dub—know less about me than I know about them. Needless, I'm done with stressing myself about this.

Chi Chi's woes began with her birthday a few weeks back. Like many women her age (especially when they are as fine as she is), she didn't handle the adult birthday well. Of course, she knew her body would change, but like me, seeing it hit differently. Between that and the little lines creeping from the corners of her eyes and across her forehead, she's feeling frumpy. I almost laughed. She is still one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Frumpy where?? She would turn heads wearing a paper bag. I bet she could gain 300 pounds, shave off her hair, and still have a trail of thirsty men following her everywhere. Still, if the aging stuff was the only thing she had to deal with, she would be fine in time. The problem is all her other worries reinforce the aging issues, and she is struggling. The short version of the story is her life has not turned out how she imagined. She once told me she wanted to remarry and have more kids, but all the dates she's been on led nowhere. Now, as an adult, she's thinking about giving up on that dream, especially when she's about to be a grandmother! Karmine, her daughter, is grown grown now. She moved her boyfriend into the house without even discussing it. Then, she got pregnant and moved out, so Chi Chi is all alone in the house with nothing but these crushing thoughts to keep her company, and she's not doing that great.

I had no idea if it would help, but I decided to share my midlife crisis story. It felt wrong at first because I never told Sophia I was struggling, but if Chi Chi can walk away feeling better, the discomfort will be worth it. Even though her story is different, I identified with everything she said because I realized life rarely turns out exactly how we plan. The reason is because we never factor in trouble or change. Our plans are always perfect and positive. When change and trouble comes, we feel out of control, like our world is falling apart. But the world isn't falling apart. It's the same as it always was. We just haven't taken off our rose-colored glasses yet.

I told Chi Chi everything would be okay, and she should look at it from a positive perspective. Because she's not starting a new family, and is an empty nester, she's got so much extra time to do all those bucket list things she's been looking forward to. And since she won't have any young children to raise, she has time to time to be super grandma and help her daughter through those oh so difficult first two stages. She's still really young and can reinvent herself if she wanted. And when love finally finds her again, and I believe it will, it will be all about them with no one else coming between them. They'll grow old together and be annoyingly in love.

Like I said, I have no clue if my little pep talk helped, but at least I left her smiling. Kinda like grieving, she'll find her way to accepting her new normal, and when she does, she'll appreciate the picture I painted for her.

[championofravens]

Big up's to shuttershocky for currently liveblogging their playthrough of the Yakuza mainline and for a post they made recently talking about the running theme of found family and the breaking of traditional family dynamics in Yakuza-

And of course it got me thinking about Infinite Wealth and how I think this is another muddled failed themeing attempt of the game that guts the best parts of the second game.Like a Dragon ends with the most found family shit you've ever seen, and I really love it there. Everyone you bring into your party is an individual who lost some sense of their prior identity or family and is looking for new people to be themselves with.

So it's immediately a little weird when Infinite Wealth openly says that Ichiban went on to remain only friends with Adachi, Nanba and Saeko. They try to explain that the criminal backgrounds of Zhao and Joongi have to keep them apart but Zhao is trying to go full civilian and regardless they blasted Eri off the face of the Earth for no reason too. And more to that point, it's very wild Ichiban just NEVER gets to talk with Zhao or Joongi for the entire game, even when the two parties combine near the end, and his interactions with Saeko are...

Turning Saeko into a love interest where Adachi and Nanba are actively cheering on Ichiban pursuing her romantically has simply and bluntly destroyed the found family dynamic the four had in Like a Dragon, full stop. And that I think is pretty obvious, especially since the crux of almost the entire game is about examining why Saeko won't marry her male friend and the game's utter disarray in trying to answer that respectfully. We went from all four of them comfortably sleeping on top of each other in a tiny bedroom to the first 45 minutes of the game being dedicated to slapstick about dating her WHICH SHE DOESN'T EVEN GET TO BE APART OF

(Also it got confirmed recently the game went through last minute rewrites btw. I was riiiiight~)

But okay even ignoring those two points which I've belabored before, let's look at all the other instances of family bullshit in the game. First, Ichiban's wild chase to find his real mother. Even if it's not just fueled by his personal desire, there is an uncomfortable focus on him finding his REAL mom, finding his REAL story of being born. And then his mother's reunion is really underwhelming and she is barely characterized but okay. But then we got Chitose, who is trying to run from an abusive family dynamic forcing her into a life she hates and the game HATES her for that. Ichiban actively dissuades her over and over from cutting off things with her evil megacorp dad in all of their bond chats. And then it's seen as this incredibly rewarding finale when she uses her familial relations to... become a nepo baby in power and the implication is that like this was all good because it allowed her to remain access to her parent's money and influence and now she can lead the business ethically buuuuuuuuuuut cm'ooooooooooon.......

We got Ichiban getting a real blood halfbrother that he again gets to spend zero time with despite the plot really beating you over the head with the POWERFUL powerful implications and thinks that a bloody crying final boss fight with him is enough to even things out. Eiji is treated to the heroic found family finale, getting like eight times the respect and sympathy from Ichiban than anyone else in his found family in the game and none of THEM faked blowing up a CHILD.

And then the final message is maybe the infinite wealth was the found family we met along the way like that wasn't the first game's thesis!!!! Ichiban you didn't even spend any time with half your stupid found family, Kiryu did!! You are THE reason the friend group splinters for an ENTIRE YEAR because you couldn't be normal about your Saeko feelings. You spend so much of the game crying and pleading with your big stupid mouth to people you arbitrarily decided are 'family' because your role is now the sobbing martyr.

[xxx-theartofsuicide-xxx]

Took the weekend to celebrate my birthday. For those of you who care, I went to the playground with my mom, my sister and our babies (they're the same age, birth month twins, we shared a pregnancy) and got lots of sun and fresh air. The playground has an industrial strength adult-sized seesaw and it let's you touch the fucking sky, bless. After lunch at my favorite Chinese buffet that serves the best shrimp I've ever had in my life, we went back home and my best friend was sitting on the porch to surprise me with a case of fancy beer and two new games for the PS5 I got for Christmas 💕 Hollow Knight and Elden Ring, imma tear that shit up whenever I get sick of Fallout. Then my husband's parents came and they gave me $70 and this rad Beetlejuice T-shirt.

It's big too so I can cut it however I want 🥰

After everybody left, husband pulled this scrumptious strawberry krunch ice cream cake out of nowhere and solo'd me the happy birthday song 😊 with feeling.

Then I got dicked down professionally and got to indulge my insomniac tendencies and stay up all night playing video games with the reassurance that he had baby tomorrow, I could sleep in as late as I want. 31 is going to be a fantastic year for me. I have a lot of big things happening.

Now. For the angry mob in my ask box:

Didn't read a word of that. I muted Tumblr the night before my birthday and this morning my wonderful husband filtered through and deleted all the ugly ones for me so I wouldn't even have to skim any of your garbage. I am dearly loved.

Not looking at notifications either. In fact, consider Tumblr notifs off for me forever. Y'all can have my attention when I feel like giving it and only when I feel like giving it. Abusive reblogs will also be blocked and forgotten. Trying to communicate with you imbeciles is like trying to teach trigonometry to toddlers (say that five times fast), so let me spell this out as simply as I can for you single-celled organisms.

• I reblogged one of Spike's posts three times (our one and only conversation) before blocking him

• At this point, I began receiving nonstop anonymous harassment that went on for about 1-2 weeks. I did not retaliate in kind because I don't believe in it. I've been the recipient of anonymous harassment for many years due to my dead dove content. My candid responses are sharp and cruel enough on their own without need of anonymity. The very notion offends my pride. I cannot abide cowardice.

• I did not report Spike. Not once, not for any of it, not even the abusive anons that I fully believe came from him. Why? Because there's no proving it, I'm not going to waste anyone's time on a hunch, and I have gotten so much hate over the years that I don't bother with any of that frill. It's too time-consuming. If I reported everything that offended me, I would never leave this stupid app.

• If I had reported Spike, you can bet your simple ass I would be sitting here gloating and taking credit. He's a shitstain and he deserves bad things. But I didn't! It sure is fucking funny that it happened though, and it's unspeakably flattering that you utter buffoons legitimately believe I'm capable of this, that I even have that kind of power. Have y'all not seen my notes? What kind of numbers do you think I'm pulling? How many people do you think I have under hypnosis? Cause I'm tellin' you right now it's like 2-3 bitches and none of them would ever do anything like that at my behest. It would damage our mutual respect.

Real Rae and anon-answering Rae are two different people. The person I am when I am responding to anonymous harassment is a cold, ruthless cunt with no concern for your thoughts, feelings, or intentions. Once an individual has decided that they're going to hide their identity in order to manipulate me, I shut down and turn to stone. This is a carefully cultivated defense mechanism.

"Don't eat me. I'm toxic."

A simple way to avoid ever interacting with this character I put on is by never leaving anonymous harassment in my askbox. And no, I won't turn off anons for you to make you comfy bc wahh you don't like me and I'm a meanie lmao. Utilize that block button, child. Learn how to enforce boundaries and respect the boundaries of others. Neither Spike nor any of his braindead minions are entitled to my time and attention.

It's incredibly valuable.

Now onto the next order of business: Laura/Afterthefuneral? Who was in my server for a little while before I booted her after she was criminally obnoxious? Who is now buddying up to Spike and intentionally trolling, feeding his paranoia with complete and total fabrications? (I have never even visited Bluesky. I don't even know what the user interface looks like.)

Here's a screenshot of how she really feels about Spike. It's the only thing we ever agreed on:

And here's a video of her cussing out her sickly cat, Pumpkin, after he was incapable of consuming the salty processed meat she left out for him:

TW: Animal abuse, disturbing footage

Pumpkin is 20~ years old. Pumpkin has cancer and a whole host of other health issues, several of which clearly stem from neglect.

Laura insists that she is unable to afford treatment/euthanasia/nail trimmings for him despite how often (and it was miserably often) she showed off her newest Beetlejuice-themed swag purchases, price tag and all. Laura believes in supporting small creators, you see. Amazon isn't good enough for her. Anyone who shared space in Dante's with Laura can attest that her treatment of Pumpkin is nothing short of inhumane, and that we were all (with the exception of a special few who tried their best) peace-keeping cowards who never held her accountable in any real way. Pumpkin deserves better.

I never wanted to make this post, Laura, but I will not continue concealing your hideous truths while you perpetuate egregious lies. I wish you had just listened to us the handful of times you were gently encouraged to please ease his visible suffering. Instead, you paraded him. Thinking about him is painful. Thinking about you is repugnant. Thinking about my inaction, and how I had to be pushed this far to get just a drop of justice for that pitiful animal riddles me with guilt. The bitch I was five years ago would have chewed you up and spit you out the first time you posted a picture of his poor, grimacing face and those painfully ingrown claws with the audacity to call it "sexy" (much less endured the months of countless indignifying photoshoots and captions that followed) but these sensitive motherfuckers out here got me caring more about optics than justice ‒ and that's what's really wrong with all of us, ain't it?

Y'all want a confession out of me? This is what I'm guilty of. I ignored Laura's animal abuse because I was afraid that if I pushed it, our mutual friends would be upset with me. Cowardly shit. I'm sorry, Pumpkin. I don't know what I could have done for you, but I didn't do enough and it's selfish of me to use you now as a primary character witness.

I'm going to take some more me time to tend my garden and reflect on the type of person I want to be. It saddens and angers me greatly that I allowed fear of backlash to compromise my rigid moral compass. What was I even afraid of? That's not who I am and I refuse to ever play that role again.

To the nice, harmless folks in my askbox, thank you for the love and I'll be getting back to you...when I know how to gather myself enough to answer all that. For now, I think I want to write nasty beetlebabes. It's been too long.

[kieraspsychonautssideblog]

Why Hollis Forsythe is a Deeper Character Than You Realize

So ya'll seem to like my essay on why Loboto's Labyrinth is a good tutorial level for Psychonauts 2. I've wanted to write an essay on the rest of the cast as well, so I decided to start with the second character we head into the mind of: Hollis Forsythe.

We are first introduced to Hollis when she comes to greet the cast after they land at the Motherlobe. I have played this game with my friends and my step-dad, and both parties initially believed Hollis was the mole due to her saying she didn't hear the crew's call for help and her initial dismissal at the idea of a mole being in the Psychonauts.

She is shown to be strict, serious, and maybe has a bit of an ego due to her preference for "Second Head" instead of Lesser Head, and with how she conducts herself after the casino mission. She isn't exactly soft towards interns, particularly Raz, and she can easily be seen as intimidating.

I do think it's rather odd that she would put a psychic intern under the mentorship of a non-psychic employee, but think of the situation she has been put in.

Truman is out of commission, and she has to keep the whole place running, and a mole is possibly running around about to bring back the biggest threat to the Psychonauts ever, their budget is getting tight, and a new intern has plopped into her lap.

I am choosing to believe that Hollis put Raz under the mentorship of Nick Johnsmith as a temporary thing, and would have given him a proper mentor afterward (given that none of the interns are mentoring under Sasha, I believe that Hollis would have given Raz to Sasha if things went differently.)

However, after she gives your mentor, you can ask her about her diploma, and she mentions being an intern at the Neurological Hospital for one year before joining the Psychonauts.

We learn in Hollis's mind that the reason she left was because while she was interning there, she came up with a new method that could save lives, but Dr. Potts had stolen her work and claimed all the credit. Appallled at this, Hollis used Mental Connection to try and mess with Dr. Potts, but ended up breaking him and they had to call in the Psychonauts to help. Truman gave her the position after this.

It is interesting that this hospital internship seems to be so central to Hollis as a character given that it was only for one year. However, it does seem to have affected her character greatly. She is immensely worried about the safety of the children she mentors, after all, and there are several figments of people being hurt or being cared for in both of her minds. Hollis's Classroom, while important to establish Hollis, is not where Hollis's character shines.

That will have to be Hollis's Hot Streak.

In Hollis's Hot Streak, we go through the Pharmacy, the Maternity Ward, and Cardiology to get three gazillion dollars to enter the High Rollers lounge and fight the Lady Luctopus. In each of these areas, we get a good insight into Hollis's thought process.

Side note: the fact that the hub area is a six-sided DIE in the MORGUE...

This game and its pun.

Anyway, in the Maternity Ward, we see that Hollis actually has a very cynical view of babies and those who want them. Most obvious is the rich couple who only want a baby for their own gain. The fact that there's some emotional baggage only accessible through dark thoughts is also something to think about. In this area, when we go to the backroom, we hear Hollis say "Well, of course, the whole system is rigged! But I mean, I'm just one person! What could I do about it?" which reads very heavily like learned helplessness almost. Given that, if you go talk to Hollis in the Motherlobe after your family arrives, she mentions that "all families are terrible", it does imply Hollis might not have a good relationship with her family.

In the Pharmacy, the entire point is to fix the Pillinko Machine so you can win. With Hollis's heart in the wrong place, it's up to us to try and make better connections in order to get to the backrooms. When we're there, Hollis says "Swallowing your feelings sounds bad, but really, who wants to hear about those ugly things anyway?" She's clearly had to repress these emotions for a while.

In Cardiology, you bet on suits of cards in race. However, Hearts has a broken leg. Although Hearts is told to stay off the leg by their doctor, their doctor is also their boss, and if they miss another race, they'll be fired. They are being exploited. Makes me wonder if that's how Hollis felt when Dr. Potts stole her work. In the backrooms, Hollis says "Different race, same runner. I can do this on my own, I don't need anybody's help, I CAN'T need anybody's help." Hollis clearly feels overworked and stressed about the situation but feels as though she cannot ask for help from those around her.

There's still a lot about Hollis's mind that interests me. The mental barriers you have to shoot through blocking your way, the religious imagery that's also in her mind, etc. But overall, I think Hollis is a much deeper character than we're lead to believe, as she doesn't get to do much after the Casino mission. But still, Hollis is really interesting to analyze.

EDIT: I AM COMPLETELY DUMB AND FORGOT TO MENTION: The fact that Hollis associates being a doctor with gambling is also really interesting. Yes this is because of Raz's actions, but the several ways she associates the two is fascinating. You have to wonder how many patients Hollis might have seen die in her time as an intern.

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

for the nights and days of life by @mochalottie longass notes for chapter nineee:

-Beard! Jake is such a funny image. It’s long and flowing, maybe he braids it Omaticaya style.

-Baby Spider’s return!! God I missed him and Jake’s little lab bonding time. It's such a clear image in my head, same as their little hammock is to me. I always love when a scene is so tangible for me.

-Me and Jake holding hands and never forgetting what Tsantu did. We will never get over it and we will never forgive him.

-You’ve got metaphors on top of similes in this chapter, babe. How many ways to describe Jake’s eyes bingo. I'd cut some. I tend to go harsher with my edits for Andrei, but I've never done that for you so idk let me know if that's not your vibe! I think I had one person ask for harsher long notes and it's on my docket, but it was not you!

-HAHA Kiri and the other kids constantly reminding Jake about how cool every scar they have is while he goes into cardiac arrest.

-KSKSKKS Lo’ak is so LITTLE COMPARED TO THEM. HE’S ONLY TWO. HOW DID HE BECOME BABY? DID YOU DECIDE HE SHOULD BE BABY?? DO I JUST NOT UNDERSTAND THE PASSAGE OF TIME??

-I adore the Max and Norm cameo it is flawless, I hope they keep sending each other shit. I am unclear as to what they mean by can they use some of it. Do they mean as evidence against the RDA? That’s my best guess.

-Neteyam: yay what a great day to finally hang out alone with my best friend and brother!

Spider: let’s go into this scary area.

Neteyam: oh.

-Lol of course Spider found hIS MOMS dead body and ship because he is literally Eywa’s favorite and least favorite. He’s the main character. All the shit happens to him. You know that funny saying, God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers, that's Jake comforting Neytiri and Spider. "Eywa gives her toughest battles to her strongest soldiers."

-The fear of having a disabled child, or even just a chronically ill child balanced with letting them live their own lives? It’s such a great concept to explore in Spider, and I love Neytiri doing it. Jake was human, he’s used to them, but Neytiri would have never seen a kid break an arm or an ankle or dislocate a shoulder or anything like that. It's horrible and scary for any person to see happen to their kid, but yet you know the kid will be fine. For Neytiri there is none of that background knowledge and comfort. It’s such a painful but interesting concept I adore it every time I see it.

-I also like audibly cooed at her making Jake foods he likes all the time because she wants to make up for food on Earth being shit all the time. That is the sweetest thing I've ever read gOD I love jeytiri.

-Jake snorting himself awake has me dEAD, simply cACKING, but also it’s so sweet because you kNOW his ass never slept deeply after the war, or before on Earth. He only sleeps deeply in the cuddle pile and I’ll cry. Him and Neteyam both, Neteyam will wake up at the slightest sound uNLESS he's in the family cuddle pile.

-Neteyam and Spider are the twins that came to literally like, stab Jake in the heart occasionally by reminding him of Tommy. You kNOW sometimes they cuddle or run off together and he can’t breathe for a second because they look like two different kids of a different species.

-You fucked up, potter is the british version of putter. I’m laughing when the British or Irish slang slips in. I only mention it because of your authors note saying you were trying to catch them all lol.

-Oh my god Neytiri going to say goodbye and reassure Paz that she has Spider taken care of? That has my entire heart and soul.

-Hilarious of Neytiri to specifically call human technology stupid names. That’s so funny. She’s like “Jake, someone is calling you on the stupid dumbass square.”

-Jake and Neytiri now must keep up the ruse of science being a swear for years to come. Norm says science on a call one time and they all gASP and cover Spider's ears.

-Norm and Max better come back with the RDA, like they sneak aboard and come to apologize to Jake and fuck shit up in person. I know that isn't the point but I miss them deeply.

-Neytiri at all times just lowkey at defcon 1 just like, always on the fucking razors edge. She is so full of unhealed and unchecked trauma and PTSD it's almost hilarious.

[kindred-sims]

Henry had been walking home from school the day he met her again.

Carrie had gone to visit with Genie for a while, asking that he let their parents know where she was as soon as he got back. He'd agreed, although he hadn't been in much of a hurry to return. Papa had been giving him so many chores lately, which really hadn't been leaving him with much reading time, and Mama had her hands full with Louisa and the new baby to even spare him a second glance.

That wasn't to say Henry was at all annoyed with his parents. On the contrary, he still loved them very much. But sometimes even ten year old boys needed their own space, and he just couldn't find that at home these days.

For that, Henry decided he would take his time, and chose the long route back to his family's farm, relishing in the scenery and reciting some of his favorite lines from his poetry book as he went.

"Stop it, please! Go away!"

Glancing ahead, Henry was startled to find none other than Dennis Gale in all his bullying glory, almost wanting to tuck tail and run the other way.

Until he spotted her. Millicent. That girl from town, the one with the pretty hat and long blonde hair.

And Dennis seemed to be picking on her!

Any fear he'd felt was replaced by a simmering anger, and before he could talk himself out of it, he'd ran up to the two of them, as Dennis laughed meanly, nearly shoving the poor girl into the dirt.

"Dennis, leave her alone!" he'd cried, fists balled up as tight as they could go. Dennis spared Henry a passive glance, snorting loudly.

"Or what? What exactly do you plan on doing?" he teased. "You're still half my size, Four Eyes, I could knock you down right now if wanted to."

"Yeah? So could my sister," Henry reminded him. "If it's a fight you're looking for, I can always just go find her, tell her what you said."

"Heh, you really think I'm still scared of her? That fight was a long time ago--"

"How come you still avoid her at recess then?"

Dennis flushed deeply, arms crossing.

"Forget it, you ain't worth it. Neither of you," he huffed. "I've gotta get home anyway."

With that, he turned and stomped off, both children watching as he went. Soon as he was out of sight, the girl -- Millicent, turned to Henry, amazement all over her face.

"My goodness, that was so brave of you!" she gasped. "Didn't he frighten you at all?"

"Aw, nah. Not really..." Henry felt his face heat up, just as it had that first time. "I mean, Dennis is a jerk, nobody should have to deal with him by themselves. It wouldn't have been fair to just leave you with him."

"That's so kind of you, truly. How can I ever thank you?"

"Oh...you don't have to--"

"Oh but I must! Mother always says that it is the proper thing to do, after all," she insisted. "I know! Why don't you walk back home with me? We can have tea and cookies, if you'd like!"

Tea and cookies certainly sounded tempting to Henry, and he was almost ready to accept until he remembered his folks were expecting him home soon, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause them any concern.

Even if he wasn't in a hurry to get back to his chores...

So much as it pained him, he politely refused Millicent's offer, but since it was on the way, asked if he could still walk her home.

"Just in case Dennis shows back up, you never know," he'd said.

Millicent happily accepted.

Since her house was just up the hill, it wasn't that long of a walk, but just long enough for formal introductions to be made. A short ways into their conversation, Millicent soon recalled their brief meeting in town a while back, much to Henry's surprise.

He hadn't thought she'd have remembered.

When they'd arrived at the house, Henry was immediately taken aback by its grandeur, staring up at it in awe for about a minute before running to catch up with Millicent. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything so big and lavish before, least not up close! The most he'd seen of it were glances, when he'd walk to and from school with Carrie. They'd always used to wonder if anyone lived there, and Carrie had surmised that it was probably haunted.

Judging by the fact that Millicent apparently lived here, that didn't seem to be the case at all.

"Well, here we are," Millicent announced, stopping at the front door. "It was very nice meeting you again, Henry, and properly this time!"

"Likewise! You're good company, Millicent."

"As are you! I'm only sorry you have to go so soon, are you sure you can't stay long enough just for a cookie?"

"Sorry, I don't think my Mama would appreciate me spoiling my dinner," Henry laughed. "But...maybe..."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe...I could always stop by after school sometime, you know, for the tea and cookies. If that's still an offer..."

The smile Millie gave him in return was just as shy as his voice, and there was just the slightest hint of pink in her cheeks.

"It very much is, yes."

[theflyingfeeling]

re: the discussion around today's Iltalehti interview with Joel and Niko reminded me of this one BC fic idea I've had in my drafts since summer 2021 (it's probably my 2nd ever BC fic idea after the one that ended up being my first ever BC fic), and yeah I know the connection is not clear lol it's clear in my head though just trust me with this one alright:

the story would be set 5 years after the band broke up because Niko left to start a solo career as a rap artist (don't laugh, it might happen!)

there was some major drama behind it (what kind? don't ask me lol) and he's absolutely miserable in case you're wondering

Joel is taking it hard because all his rock star dreams were completely crushed within 24 hours (still don't know how it all went down so don't ask; suggestions are welcome)

he tried to keep the band going but none of the other guys were passionate about it anymore because "it's just not the same without Niko"

starting a new band wasn't an option either because no matter what Joel did, people would never stop talking about the drama of the band break-up

so he gets drunk with Joonas every night

Joonas isn't any better than Joel tbh because besides the band break-up there was also a boyfriend break-up since Joonas and Niko were secretly gay in love

Aleksi went back to being a successful DJ/producer and is doing pretty fine

he is also the only one still (secretly) in touch with Niko

Olli is unemployed because he doesn't really know what to do with his life without the band because that was like his whole identity?

he's dealing with it slightly better though than J&J (not developing a drinking habit)

Tommi owns a music shop and employed Olli for a while but had to give him up because the business wasn't succesful enough for him to be able to pay Olli's salary

after being sacked, Olli couldn't pay his rent anymore and moved in with Aleksi

they share the bed most nights 🥺 Olli's excuses turn more bizarre night by night (e.g. the radiator's not working so he's cold, there's a weird noise keeping him awake, they watched a horror film right before bedtime and he's creeped out etc.) but Aleksi doesn't mind and they start slowly falling in love

Joonas and Joel also share a bed from time to time (platonically when they're sad enough, or when they pass out from being drunk enough)

Tommi also has a fiancée (+ a baby on the way?), the guys hang out at his music shop regularly

in the first scene of the fic, Aleksi, Olli and Tommi are gathered at the shop (Joel is ??? idk where and Joonas arrives later) and someone's reading a gossip magazine and there's an article about Niko being spotted/getting engaged with "the hottest pop star of the century" and as Joonas arrives they try to hide the magazine from him but eventually he reads it anyway

later that evening they all go out clubbing (an album release party for a friend's band?) and suddenly Niko arrives with his new posse

none of them (minus Aleksi) have seen him irl since the break-up so drama ensues

Joonas and Niko briefly exchange a few bitter (on Joonas' part) words as he's outside having a smoke and Niko follows him (they don't even look each other in the eyes)

...and that's all I ever managed for this AU 😅 surely there'll be a happy ending of some kind, but I never decided whether it's about the band getting back together or to just reconcile with Niko and leave the door open for maybe one day making music again 🥺

[livestosave]

"So I dragged the family name through the mud? Not you, then?"

(tw for implied/past child abuse/neglect, typical aristocratic bad marriage and society practices, and just generally toxic parent/child relations)

Yelling was a normal occurrence in the Goodkind Manor. It always had been, or so Robert gathered from the way it no longer phased the staff, and the way none of them stood near the still-open sitting room, eavesdropping. Not that anyone had to be: Alfred's voice was higher than his own, but still deep enough to carry when the weasel raised it. And his mother had what should have been a pleasant alto voice, that similarly carried as her own anger grew.

He wasn't trying to listen in, either. Alfred had made it clear - not in words, but in every action he made in each row Robert had seen the fallout of - that his rows with his mother were not something for Robert to save him from. Despite how that first night had gone, Robert would admit Alfred mostly handled them well, matching his mother's ire blow for blow until one or both of them decided to retreat. If it didn't make him so angry, if his chest wasn't always so tight with a protective rage to hear anyone try to cut Alfred down so harshly - in his own home, no less! - he might have been willing to concede that Alfred had certainly inherited his sharp tongue from the woman.

But this felt…different. He wasn't sure what it was, but Alfred's voice had an edge to it that felt more…raw. More brutal.

"There was only ever one rule, wasn't there? There always has been. You just don't get caught. You had a good marriage, a good husband, a good life! Just one little problem: Father couldn't have kids, could he? No, so that threw a wrench in things, because there had to be an heir. How many men did you take to your marriage bed, while Father was on campaign? How many affairs did he tolerate, because he loved you, and he couldn't give you the child you wanted, that he needed? All you had to do was produce a babe that could conceivably be his, and no one would ask those inconvenient questions, would they?"

There was a bark of laughter. As Robert approached the door, he couldn't see the woman's face, but he could see Alfred's. Handsome features twisted in a fierce snarl, a false enthusiasm and bravado as he glared down at his mother.

"No, you had to take faunus lovers. You made the terribly ill-advised choice to not be safe with that one. And everyone knew, didn't they? They knew I wasn't Father's, but so long as I was close enough, they would never say. The game would continue. They'd turn a blind eye, as Father did, because that's how it always goes, isn't it? Except you lost. Because your gamble failed.

"I hope the dicking that fox gave you was worth it, Mother."

The resounding smack filled the small sitting room, and the silence after was somehow worse. Through the open door, Robert could see a faint trail of scarlet leaking from the corner of Alfred's mouth, even as the weasel rolled his tongue across his teeth. One hand reached to wipe the blood away, tongue licking the smear of crimson from his thumb, before he began to chuckle. A dangerous, low, calm noise that was so at odds with the cold fury in Alfred's eyes, that Robert hesitated. He should put an end to things there, give the old bitch a piece of his mind and get Alfred out, but the way the weasel was looking at his mother…Robert was almost wondering if he should be getting her out. Not for her own safety, exactly, but because he wasn't sure Alfred could handle matricide.

"That's all I've ever been to you, isn't it? The one chance you had to make it all up to Father, and then there I was. A faunus. Your shame and disappointment made manifest. And the worst part, the shame of the whole damned thing? He forgave you. When they all tore into you, screaming about your affairs, crowing about how the baby was a bastard, he saved you from them. He forgave you, and he told them that he condoned it, asked it, because he so wanted a child and couldn't have one. He took the brunt of that shame, to save you the humiliation. He just didn't realize that it was worse, doing that, did he? He didn't realize that you could never look him in the eye, knowing he stained his precious honor for you. You could never look at me as anything but the smirch on his honor that you caused." Alfred's voice was raising again, the illusion of calm fracturing as the cold inferno blazed in him, and yet he made no move to touch his mother.

"I could never measure up to him because I was always the sign of your failure. He might have legitimized me in the eyes of the kingdom, but to you I'll always be the bastard that is the sign of your failure to be a loyal, loving wife. And now, the failure to be the mother you always wanted to be. You gambled with both our lives...and you lost."

Alfred reached up to his breastpocket, turning from his mother to start towards the door, handkerchief raising to wipe the line of crimson from his face.

"By the end of the year, you will be moving in with aunt Lolita. I will not walk on eggshells in my own home for the sake of your shattered ego, nor watch my guests worry they offend your pathetic sensibilities. Take who and what you will...but you will be gone, Mother."

Silence answered him...but it was defeated. Alfred's pace slowed, a slight...hesitation entering it. But he kept moving for the door.

"Alfred?" His mother's voice. It was...softer, than Robert had yet heard it. Gentle. Defeated, and subdued...but not unkind.

"...yes, Mother?" Alfred had paused, though he didn't turn around. His mother was still facing the fireplace, not looking at him, either.

"...I do love you." Was it just Robert, or was there a whisper of...pride in that? Buried in the other emotions, the grief, the guilt...the shame. Perhaps it was sappy foolishness.

"....I know. That's why you need to leave."

[cheerscoops]

Title: Puppy Love Pairings: Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham Word Count: 1.2k Summary: When Chrissy goes to pick up her dog from doggy daycare, the last thing she expected was to meet the owner of her dog's best friend. CW/TW: a single mention of a dog being mistreated, but there are no specifics A/N: something short and sweet to end the week! thank you to everyone who's read anything I've written this week. you guys are the best <3

When Chrissy entered the doggy daycare center, there was already a man talking to the woman working at the counter, so she took her place off the side to wait for her turn. The worker noticed her and motioned for her to come to the counter as well though.

"Oh good," she said. "You're both here. This works out perfectly for me because there was something I was hoping to talk to you both about."

"Did Daisy knock over another dog again, Laura? I thought I'd finally gotten her to stop jumping on other dogs and people, but she just gets so excited, and I don't think she realizes how big she is," Chrissy rambled on as the man next to her sighed and spoke simultaneously.

"What did Harold do this time?" he asked.

As they heard each other say their dogs' names, they both paused.

"Wait. Harold is your dog?" she asked. Chrissy had heard plenty of stories about Harold throughout the year that she'd been bringing her pitbull Daisy to this doggy daycare. Daisy and Harold were practically attached at the hip and spent pretty much the entire time they were there playing together. Chrissy even had a photo of the two of them out in the yard together that the center had given to her as her phone's lock screen. She'd only met the dog once before, but she adored the lovable golden retriever almost as much as her own pup.

His owner wasn't anything like she'd expected though. With a name like Harold, she'd expected a little old lady. Instead, standing before her was a man that couldn't have been much older than she was.

"He is. And Daisy is yours?"

"Not what you expected?"

"Not really. When I picture pitbull owners, I tend to picture bikers. No offense."

"None taken. I think her original owner actually was a biker."

Chrissy turned her attention back towards Laura.

"So what adorable chaos did our dogs get up to today?" she asked.

"Well, Daisy had a bit of an accident actually," she started. "Before you start worrying, she's completely fine. She got stung by another bee during outside time today. We took the stinger out and treated the sting the same way we did the last time, and she was back to being her friendly, happy self after an hour. I have the most adorable photo to show you though."

Laura pulled out her phone and unlocked it to pull up a photo of Daisy and Harold together. Daisy was laying on her side with a damp washcloth draped over her shoulder blade where Chrissy assumed the bee sting must have been. Harold was laying beside her with his head resting on her hindquarters.

"He didn't leave her side the entirety of the time she was resting after we took care of her. It was maybe the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Please send that to me as soon as you can,” Chrissy requested. She hated to see her baby in pain, but she didn’t look like she was hurting at all in that photo with Harold. She thought that maybe the photo was cute enough to become her new lockscreen, but she hadn’t decided yet.

“The thing I wanted to talk to you both about was that you’ve both mentioned to me that you’d like it if your individual dogs could socialize more outside of work, but we’re not in the habit of giving out customer information to just anyone even if I truly believe that your dogs might be soulmates. But, since you’re both here, I don’t have to break company policy to get you to be able to set up a playdate. I’ll go get your dogs and leave you to chat for a bit.”

With that, Laura exited the lobby and moved into the back where all of the dogs were kept. Chrissy moved to sit on the bench in the waiting area, and the man moved to sit with her.

“I’m Steve, by the way,” he said as he offered her his hand.

“Chrissy.” She shook his hand and smiled over at him. “So, you aren’t what I was expecting from Harold’s owner either.”

“Lemme guess. You thought I was a little old lady who’d named her dog after her late husband?”

“Maybe not her late husband, but that was the demographic I was picturing,” she said with a small laugh.

“My roommate named him, and that was what she hoped people would think when they heard his name. She’ll be happy to know she fooled someone else.”

“A clever prank.”

“What about Daisy? That’s not the name I’d expect for a pitbull either. Did you pick it, or did her last owner name her that?”

“Oh, that was all me. I don’t even know if her last owner gave her a name. Technically, my best friend probably stole her if I’m being completely honest. His neighbors weren’t exactly treating her the best, and she wasn’t chipped, so it was easy enough for him to just claim she was a stray. He’s always been more of a cat person, and I’d been saying I wanted a dog for a while at that point, so he gave her to me as a birthday gift. I named her Daisy because she was still kind of skittish around people because of her last owners treating her so poorly, but she would always come right up to me for snuggles if I was wrapped up in this daisy patterned blanket I had. It was my favorite, but it’s all hers now.”

Just then, Laura came out with both of their dogs who were very eager to be reunited with their owners. Daisy made it to Chrissy first, jumping to place her paws on her mama’s shoulders and lick the side of her face.

“Well, hello to you, too, baby,” she said as she cupped Daisy’s face in her hands. “Were you so brave today when you got hurt? I’m gonna have to take you to get a special treat for being such a good patient. Yes, I am.”

She glanced over and saw that Harold was waiting expectantly for her to give him some attention, too.

“And thank you, Harold,” she said to the other dog. “I think I owe you a treat, too. For taking such good care of my pretty Daisy.”

Harold rested his chin on her thigh, and she moved to scratch him behind the ear. Steve’s heart melted at the sight of this woman giving so much love to his boy, too.

While still petting both of the dogs, Chrissy turned her attention towards Steve.

“There’s a dog friendly cafe around the corner, and they sell the cutest little cookies for dogs. If you’re not busy, maybe we could go there now? I could buy our dogs a treat, and we could exchange numbers so we could plan some playdates for them in the future?”

“Only if you let me buy you a coffee. If you’re treating the dogs, I’m treating you.”

“That works for me.”

“Then I’d love to.”

As the two walked out of the doggy daycare together and started to make their way around the corner to the cafe, Chrissy couldn’t help but think that maybe their dogs were the perfect matchmakers.

[spurgie-cousin]

Hi! Was just thinking about girl defined and all those fundie trad wives/moms who are selling courses and things like that. It bothers me soo much that they bash women who decide to work in the normal world, say staying home is the best etc but they actually work, preparing podcasts, ebooks etc takes time and they sometimes have to ask someone to watch their kids. The contradiction kills me:( Ps: love your blog, have foloowed you for years and wish you the best:)

Oh my gosh, thanks for putting up with my bullshit for years LOL, glad to have you and I wish you the best as well!!💕💕

Yea I know exactly what you mean, the mlm/course thing is an interesting phenomenon in the conservative xtian universe lol. The trad/conservative/fundie women got themselves in this pickle where most can't afford to live the only kind of lifestyle they deem as acceptable, so they have to find these creative loopholes to technically have a 2 income household but also be able to plausibly deny that the wives work. bc they work from home and call their jobs "side hustles" (even though some like Jill Rodrigues can become the main breadwinners).

it is hypocritical like you said because when all is said and done, the mlm girlies are basically just employees of their uplines but with less income, benefits, security, etc than a normal employee, if they can even break even on their initial investments (which most can't). And don't even get me started on those courses and the time, money, marketing and networking abilities you would need to even make a dime off them, regardless of what Bethany Beal tries to sell desperate moms. her $2k+ "course on how to make courses" bullshit is up there on the list of worst things I've ever seen a Christian influencer do I swear.

It's sad too when you think about it, these struggling moms of often multiple kids are sold all these blatant lies by their friends and people they look up to, not even strangers. when many are just trying to survive in this lifestyle that makes them feel like bad parents for prioritizing financial stability over like, homeschooling or having more babies thru can't afford. And it's just like girl, if you need a job just GET a job...... work from home jobs are more available than every these days, and yea they can be harder to get but at least you don't have to put yourself in more financial ruin just to try.

Idk I could go on about it forever and I'll stop myself before I do, but I do want to add that none of that sympathy I mentioned extends to Bethany, she can choke.