#and i don't have time for the nonsense any more

[breelandwalker]

Oh no. What's wrong with Silver Ravenwolf? I feel like I see them recommended everywhere...

Yeeeeaaaah, it's an ongoing problem. Her books were wildly popular for over a decade and they're were widely marketed as THE Book To Have for beginner witches by Llewellyn, which was the heaviest of the heavy hitters in occult literature at the time.

The problem with Silver Ravenwolf is largely that she is wildly out of touch in a very New Age White Woman kind of way. Her books tout loads of misinformation, appropriation, and historical revisionism that are simply not acceptable (i.e. claiming victims of witch trials were actual pagan witches, citing a fictional ancient matriarchal goddess religion that never existed was the basis for Wicca, leaning into the hereditary superpowers / indigo child / starseed narrative, etc). Besides which, the theories she posits contradict each other from page to page and chapter to chapter, claims a Gardnerian lineage which can’t possibly exist, and trumpets Buckland’s personal theories on the Burning Times and interpretation of the Threefold Law as if they were fact.

And thanks to her runaway popularity, those of us who instruct and answer questions from newer witches have to UNTEACH all of this nonsense.

If it were simply a matter of being a product of her time, I could forgive some of the nonsense. But she’s still selling mammy dolls on her website, though she labels them as “primitive” and equates them to “positive voodoo dolls.” Yes, she's been confronted about this, and yes she doubled down. I don’t think I need to explain how gross and racist this is on SEVERAL levels. She's been given opportunities to show growth and self-work with regards to her work and simply refuses to believe that she was ever wrong about anything.

So, her books aren't entirely worthless by any means, but they require a LOT of critical reading and a strong understanding of actual history and science. Furthermore, she leans rather hard into a borderline cult mentality that boils down to, "Nobody understands you, but because you're drawn to witchcraft, you're SPECIAL, probably because of some ancient hereditary superpower, so don't worry - Mama Silver understands you. Also, there's no need to read further into anything, just take my word for it."

I would not recommend them for beginners, which is a problem because that's exactly the demographic her work is marketed toward. (Personally, I would not recommend them for anybody, but that's just my opinion.) They require so much effort to fact-check and unpack that it's almost not even worth the time and energy for whatever ideas and information you might actually find useful.

For more details, I suggest the following articles:

Continuing Anger Over Silver Ravenwolf

The Problem With Silver Ravenwolf

Trae Dorn (@traegorn) of BS-Free Witchcraft expands on the topic in this video. They've been wrestling with this issue for YEARS within the Wiccan and wider witchcraft communities and I'm sure they could cite examples I've missed.

[goatgoesmbe]

Y/N: Torturing König for information

König: Oh... that's quite nice

Y/N: Why can't anyone take me seriously. Fuck this, Ghost can deal with this

König: NO please- I can be normal about this!

Y/N: Can you.

König: ...no

Y/N: GHOST! COME HERE!

👀👀👀👀

Alright now, hear me out anon- i hope you don't mind me turning this to 3k words porn.

big thamks to my mommy-auntie (montie?) @ahobaka-trash for beta-reading

KonigxReader + GhostxReader tw : edging, implied torture, hostage interrogation, blueballing, open ending

Ghost wasn't dumb. He knew exactly what was going on in that giant colonel's head, ever since he saw you innocently beaming at them, gesturing at your catch, a hostage.

Konig was his name, a fucking colonel. No offense to you luv, but from how everyone glanced at each other, no one believed you could take down that hunk of a mountain.

But a hostage is a hostage.

"GHOST! COME HERE!" he heard you yell. After a nod from Price, he then stepped inside the interrogation room.

You were not assigned to interrogate him at first. But Konig is tight-lipped, barely flinching at any pain, and made no sound except when he demanded your presence.

Dark brown iris lazily trailed to their hostage, who was now shirtless- well except for the shirt on his head which they couldn't get off him. It was like the colonel simply let them do what they wanted, but put his foot down when they overstepped his boundaries. Like he was in charge instead of them.

Ghost took in the cuts and bruises. They definitely looked painful, unpleasant. But from what he heard when he stood behind the one-way mirror, the soft moans and heavy breathing, it seemed like it was doing the opposite.

bastard's fucked in the 'ead, the lieutenant thought.

The usual method of torture wouldn't work on him. Ghost needed to improvise.

He said nothing and simply stood behind you before leaning down to whisper in your ear "Do you trust me, luv?".

You looked back, big doe eyes blinked at him in confusion. That innocent look on your face always made him question how the fuck did you survive working alongside them all this time.

"Um.. yes-?" a gasp slipped out your lips before you could say more, gloved hand fisting your hair and tugging back towards him. You went rigid like a kitten held by the scruff.

"Yeah?" He asked again in a low purr, the other hand trailing up your torso to squeeze your tit.

You gasped again, staying still as your eyes immediately looked at the large mirror where you knew the others were watching. Expecting anyone to say something.

Silence 

Like they were waiting for your greenlight. No interruption from your captain, nor the hostage. It was all up to you what's gonna happen next.

Silence, except for faint panting from the colonel tied up in front of you.

You nodded.

And instantly, your top was ripped off of you.

You didn't get enough time to react to it, your pants got yanked down, now pooling around your knees before slowly falling to your ankles.

"Y'gonna talk now?" Ghost asked, slipping into that persona he always used in this situation. Straight to the business and no-nonsense, nonchalant about his colleague who was now half naked in his grip.

You could see Konig's eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, his breathing was heavier than before. Then, his blown pupils glanced up at Ghost while he tilted his head as if he was taunting him.

The grip on your hair tightened and you were pushed forward just enough for Konig to lean in and tug your bra down with his teeth.

Your lips parted and you feel that clench. Mind and body against each other. You shouldn't be enjoying this, a voice in your head said, scolding you for getting your panties wet.

With your tits now exposed to the cold air of the interrogation room, your nipples perked invitingly. You held your breath when your hostage opened his mouth to have a taste, only for it to be denied when you got yanked back.

"Well?" Said a voice beside your ear, though it was directed at the man in front of you who stared unblinking at your lieutenant before trailing down to your breasts which were now being fondled by two gloved hands.

"..What do you want to know?" The colonel said, sounding serious for the first time since you've met him.

"You work for Makarov?" The question was growled at him, yet your body reacted with a shiver and you couldn't help but whimper. Red flushed your cheeks, your eyes once again darting to the mirror.

Konig simply hummed in response, and you couldn't really tell if that was a yes or a no. Ghost seemed to have the same thought since he pinched your nipples hard and pulled. 

"Please-!" You yelped out a plea, not really knowing who it was directed to.

The cloth on the hostage's head shifted, he was licking his lips under the hood. "He is a client" he finally said. You let out a sigh of relief when Ghost loosened his hold but didn't let you go, massaging your breasts more softly as his fingers rubbed your nipples as an apology.

That was a big intel, Makarov is working together with Kortac. The colonel himself confirmed it, an enemy, not some unlucky passersby.

You tried your best to take all the information, you really did. But it was really hard with how your lieutenant fingers danced on the sensitive nubs.

"You were with ‘im?" Ghost asked. His voice is gruff yet steady compared to the colonel in front of you, like it's normal to use his coworker as an interrogation tool. To be honest, you are quite scared of what Ghost can do to you to make Konig talk.

And you're ashamed of yourself for how that fear brought heat to your core.

Konig didn't respond once again, a silent command for Ghost to do something. And you wondered who was really in charge here, definitely not you though.

Your train of thought was interrupted when a pair of strong arms hoisted you up, one leg raised until your knee was pressing against your chest while your other leg was left dangling. Despite the cotton panties covering your cunt, you still felt very exposed, being spread out in front of one of your enemies of all people.

A pathetic whine slipped out of your lips, which were swollen from you biting down on them previously. A thick finger rubbing between your folds through your panties. Slow yet firm, soaking  the cotton  even more.

"Were you with Makarov?" Ghost asked again, voice lowering an octave. Whether to intimidate or maybe he was just as affected by all this too.

"No" Konig responded shortly. His body shook slightly and you noticed how he tried to pull his hand out of the handcuffs behind the chair. Like he wanted to touch you, or maybe himself, from the obvious bulge in his pants.

You swallowed at the sight.

"D’you know where 'e is?" Your lieutenant asked as his finger kept rubbing you, trailing up to circle your clit through your panties which made you whine.

Konig stayed silent again. Like he didn’t want to interrupt the lewd voices you made as you slowly unraveled in your superior's hands.

Ghost clicked his tongue, feeling impatient but still played along with the game. His fingers trailed up to the waistband, trailing across the fabric slowly like he was taking his time appreciating the delicate panties before ripping it off and tossing it with your other torn garments.

Before you could have a chance to mourn the loss of your panties, two thick fingers rammed deep into your pussy. You could only squeal, throwing your head back against his shoulder. "Ah, ah, ah-" A gasping moan with each thrust aiming at your gspot.

"Where. is. Makarov?" Ghost growled, each word emphasized with a hard thrust that got you keening.

"Si- Ghost, please.." It took you a second to realize that was your own voice.

"Not up to me, sweet'eart" The lieutenant replied without taking his eyes off the hostage.

You panted, following his gaze to the colonel in front of you. His half-lidded eyes, pupils so wide with light blue outlining them, and if you focus past the wet squelching noises you can hear him breathing heavily.

"..Konig"

His whole body jerked at your plead. "Scheiße" You heard him hiss under his breath.

"I don't know, we only interacted through a third person or a call" He continued. With your mind all jumbled, you questioned for a second about who he was talking about, oh right Makarov, we're gathering intel on Makarov.

"Don’t even try lyin’" Ghost tutted and curled his fingers, pressing against that sweet spot that made you whine pathetically.

You heard Konig chuckle breathlessly. "Oh, i won't lie to this hübsche kleine schlampe. Don't want to break her heart" he shrugged.

Ghost held back from rolling his eyes and scoffed. "What’d 'e pay ya for, then?".

Expecting another silence, Ghost didn't wait for a response. Pushing you down on your knees before shoving your face onto the colonel's crotch. "Open" He whispered lowly in your ear, tilting your head just so, your lips pressing against the zipper on the hostage’s pants.

With your teeth, you tugged the zipper down. And your eyes widened when you saw his throbbing cock. You took in the veiny shaft, the pinkish tip glistening with precum under the dim lighting of the interrogation room. filthy git went full-on commando on his job.

"What’d 'e pay you to do?" Ghost asked once again as he pried your mouth open, a silent command for you to make good use it. Then you felt the colonel go rigid when you wrapped your lips around the tip.

"..Retrieving a package" The colonel answered as he tried to buck his hips, hoping to shove more of his dick into your mouth. You started to panic, you didn't know if you could take more. He was really big, too big. And that's something, since you've taken Ghost before.

"What's the package?" The lieutenant asked as he slowly pushed you down, forcing you to take more, not caring about your muffled noise.

You felt the tip nudging the back of your throat, your eyes tearing up and you whined around the girthy cock as Ghost kept urging you to keep going. This is how you're gonna die, choking on some enemy's dick.

"Verdammt- i don't know" You heard Konig say through gritted teeth when you felt your nose buried in a bush of hair, somehow managing to take all of him. Looking so pliant and pathetic, batting your wet eyelashes up at him, as you focused on remembering how to breathe.

Ghost jerked your head back, and forward, again and again. Fucking your throat with the colonel's dick, hard without mercy.

"Don't give me that bullshit" Growled the lieutenant. Though, he didn't expect a response, letting the hostage lose himself in the wetness of your mouth.

Before you were  pulled back by your hair, letting go of the cock with a wet pop. And you heard Konig whimper, his cock twitched violently, robbed from his release.

It took a while for Konig to respond, trying to regain his control back from the pleasure, steadying his breathing before speaking. "I really don't know, they told me nothing, I asked nothing. We only care about finishing the job" He said. Though, you can see his eyes glint mischievously. He was keeping something from them and felt in control because of it. Taunting your lieutenant to give him more of you in exchange for that.

It seemed that  Ghost thought of the same thing since he yanked you back up and forward. You thought he wanted you to sit on the colonel's lap and you were going to, but then he held your hip in one hand while the other still had a fistful of your hair.

Then he shifted you above Konig’s lap, until your pussy lips are rubbing against the tip of the colonel's cock. Taunting back.

"Try again" The lieutenant's voice rumbled. You didn't know if you imagined it but you could hear him smirk.

The colonel was holding back from bucking his hips. Not wanting to give in just yet so he could get more. Just a bit more. "As I said, I have no clue" He shrugged, the smugness in his voice is more obvious now.

Even though you had expected it, you still gasped. It was just the tip, but the stretch made you exhale shakily. Your legs trembled slightly, and you were sure without Ghost holding you up you would definitely fall onto the colonel's lap.

Konig sighed, whether it was in exasperation or pleasure you didn't know. Probably both.

"Missiles.. possibly nukes," The colonel said without being asked. "Overheard them talking about it, though my Russian is rusty so take it with a grain of salt" he continued.

Ghost hummed into your ear, gloved hand reaching down to toy with your sensitive clit. It was as if he was rewarding you for making the hostage give them such valuable intel.

Though, he didn't reward the man who gave the intel. Making him suffer by making you clench around his tip, not letting him sink even another millimeter of his dick inside  you.

"Where are they stored?" The lieutenant asked, lips against your ear, hot breath making you squirm. There's an itch in your core, this was torture for you too.

"Stop movin’, princess, unless ya want me to stop 'ere" He whispered lowly so only you could hear it, stopping the circling motion on your clit to pinch so hard it almost hurt. It's too much, but also not enough. And now you're dripping down an enemy's dick like a slut.

"I can pinpoint the location on your map" Their hostage hissed, his voice was a bit shaky and those bright blue iris locked in at the spot you and him were connected. "Untie me" He added, his eyes now locked onto your lieutenant's.

Ghost scoffed condescendingly. "Ain’t 'appenin'" he said.

You heard the colonel let out a dry chuckle. "Worth a shot" he murmured to himself.

"Just shoot it" Ghost demanded whilst moving his fingers on your clit. Flicking with his thumb, sliding two fingers up and down whilst squeezing the sensitive nub between them, massaging the top agonizingly slow, making tiny circles.

"Go on, tell 'im, luv" Deep voice purred sultry into your ear and you cried out when he lifted the hood of your clit and roughly rubbed the exposed underside. You started shaking, your back painfully arching with the overwhelming pleasure. Too much.

"Konig.. Konig-" You pleaded pathetically, squeezing the head of his cock inside of you. More of your slick dripping down his shaft.

Konig groaned, both at the sinful sight and the way your sweet voice sang his name. "Why should I? I don’t need you slitting my throat once youget all the information" He sneered.

A gloved hand slapped your clit and you squealed. "Please, please-" You whined. Doe eyes all teary as you locked eyes with the hostage.

You could feel Konig jerk beneath you as your channel clenched uncontrollably around his tip.

"We won't" Ghost responded. "Be daft of us to get rid of a bloody colonel just for this shite, and you know it" He added.

Konig snorted in response but said nothing.

"So?" Your lieutenant asked once again, pushing for an answer.

"I assume you would keep me here to exchange for something with Kortac, it's rude to keep your guest tied, no?" Konig said mockingly, making  Ghost narrow his eyes.

"You ain't no bloody guest" Ghost growled and pinched your clit again, tugging it painfully while his other hand pulled at your nipple in a similar way, making you go crossed-eyed. "Now, spit it out" The lieutenant added, his voice was booming compared to your little pleas "pleasepleaseplease".

The colonel sighed, like he took pity on you. "Abandoned hospital at the north" He finally said. And you could just kiss him for making Ghost let go of your sensitive nubs and rub them in a much gentler manner.

"Thought that was Al Qatala's base now" Ghost mumbled to himself, a bit too casually like he didn't just try to ruin you.

"Yeah, the Russian made a transaction with them," Konig said. Blue eyes trailing back to you, observing the state you were in.

"Now, I told you everything you need.." The colonel purred, eyes crinkling which made you think that he was smiling at you underneath the hood.

And with that, all hell let loose.

The lieutenant's hands on you started rubbing with the intention of making you come. He let go of your nipple and went south, tracing the rim of your entrance where you still have the head of the colonel's cock inside.

Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers slipping inside you again. Not caring that you were still stretched open.

Eyes crossed, toes curled. Panting and whining like a little puppy when you felt those fingers go deeper, rubbing your gspot at the same pace as his other hand on your clit.

Your thighs were trembling, your moans getting higher and higher as your climax threatened to wash over you. And then, Ghost didn't stop Konig from thrusting up this time and you lost it.

Wave after wave of pleasure, your cunt clenched uncontrollably around Konig, moaning like a whore.

Just when you wanted to grind down for more stimulation, Ghost lifted you by the back of your knees. Konig let out a string of curses in German, watching the way your pussy clenched desperately around nothing.

"..Simon" You whimpered, teary eyes looking up at him with a pout. You didn't have the capacity to care about saying his real name in front of an enemy after such orgasm. Looks like your usage for interrogations is finally over – and you are not sure whether you were useful or just looked pretty enough.

"Don't worry princess" He murmured, shifting his hold to lift you in a bridal carry. "You've been good, we'll reward you" And with that, he kissed your forehead. You didn't see the way his eyes shifted to the one-way mirror where the rest of the team had been watching from behind it.

You could only let him carry you out of the interrogation room, heavy steps from his boots filling the silence.

And Konig?

"Verdammte Hurensöhne!" Raspy voice boomed behind you before it was muffled as Ghost closed the door behind him. Not caring that the hostage still had his hard and throbbing cock out, wet from your slick and his own precum.

But of course, if you took pity on him and if you asked everyone nicely, maybe  they would let him watch- or since the interrogation had been more than successful, he could join. Letting him enjoy their leftover, to fuck everyone’s cum deeper inside your cunt.

Just say the word.

...

taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @midwesternwitchery,

[brawberryz]

I don't want to die

Batfam × negleted Asuka langley!Reader

《Platonic》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error/ This story has no relation to my Evangelion AU

You hate this

You hate everything, nothing is ever fair to you

You always tried your best being batgirl but still you couldn't get anyone to tell you how proud they were of you

You were good at fighting and you solved cases in hours but still it seemed like you didn't exist for your family

Your presence was a shadow between the great walls of the mansion, you didn't understand why none of your efforts to get noticed worked

But it's okay, you don't need anyone

You didn't need his approval, you're fine alone because you know very well that no one will protect you or take care of you

But at the same time you didn't want to be alone, you wanted to experience that love that Bruce gave to his other children and which you never felt

Bruce

How you hated that name, he was never a father to you and he never will be, he pretended to be the perfect and exemplary father but deep down he was as broken and rotten as you

You hated him so much, you hated your father and your mother, You hated your brothers and you hated men

Nobody understands you and comprehends you, they pretend to like you but you know that the fake

Richard, claimed to be the eldest brother and that he cared about his brothers but you knew it was a farce, he was as hypocritical and fake as the whole family

He only showed affection to the people who suited him and if you were not useful he just ignored you

You hate him so much, his mere presence makes you nauseous and disgusted

Jason, he was an idiot just like the whole family, since he had revived he was a person full of anger and revenge

In a way you understood him a little, but then you hated him

I believed that just because his life had been miserable it didn't mean that he should make life miserable for others, sometimes you wished that the joker would beat him to death with that crowbar again

Tim, you didn't hate him as much as the others but you still despised him

Since you and he arrived at the mansion You had some kind of rivalry since you two were equally intelligent and you were very competitive children

I never wanted to admit that I was wrong and at some point you were like that too, but having Bruce always put you on his side made your blood boil

Because Bruce seemed so proud of him but with you he treated you as if you were some kind of mistake

Damian, he was the second person you hated the most every time you two saw each other it seemed like you wanted to kill each other

You still remember the first time he arrived at the mansion you weren't so excited you thought he would be another idiot you would have to deal with

You were very surprised when you saw how a katana was heading towards your head, by instinct you dodged it your years as batgirl had favored you for the first time

You didn't remember that fight well, you only knew that if your father and your brothers didn't interrupt that fight you and Damian were going to end up killing each other

But there was something that stayed in your head, when they separated you Damian you and him were equally hurt by their big fight but everyone decided to pay attention to him

Everyone was so worried about him and they had only met him a few hours ago, but you

You had lived in this mansion for more than a decade and they didn't even bother to check on you

The only one who seemed worried was Alfred who carefully tended to your wounds

You could still remember the look of disappointment and anger that your father gave you after that fight

You wanted to cry at that moment and yell at him but you couldn't, you couldn't show yourself weak

It was a simple nonsense that shouldn't affect you, you were never going to show yourself vulnerable or cry again

But deep down, you would have liked to be able to cry

Barbara, you didn't hate her but you didn't like her either, you just tolerated her since at some point she was quite useful in your missions

But you weren't going to lie that at some point you felt jealous of them when she was Batgirl, you saw how Bruce treated her with so much love as if she were a daughter

How he looked at her with pride and cared for her, and you were there looking at her with hatred without knowing why she deserved that love and you didn't

It wasn't fair, she hadn't even tried hard to get Bruce to respect her and you who spent your whole life training and becoming one of the strongest and most skilled members of the batfam he didn't even turn to look at you

Cass, you tolerated her to a certain point your opinion of her was neutral

Sometimes you used to train together but you never talked, you only got together to train or on missions that Bruce asked her to accompany you

Steph, you met her when she was Robin, you got along well at the beginning but when she stopped being Robin you two separated and stopped talking for a while

When she came back she looked so different as if something had changed, you had heard that she went through a lot of things when she left like getting pregnant or something

You just kept quiet and didn't ask her so as not to make her uncomfortable

Your life wasn't the best but you learned to live like that, you got used to this life full of disappointment

Maybe you should just accept this life and wait to die, no one will remember you and the only thing people will remember will be batman's invisible daughter

You will remain as one of Bruce's many mistakes, a mistake he could never fix

_

It was another mission, it was easy you just had to deactivate some bombs that the scarecrow had placed in some buildings, you had done it many times it shouldn't be difficult

And as you sensed it was very easy, there was only one bomb left that was located in a warehouse

You were confident without paying attention to the warning of your father and oracle

You quickly went to the place where the bomb was located, you had deactivated many bombs this one should not be so difficult

But you trusted too much

Oh no

It was a trap, a fucking one

Before you could react the bomb ended up throwing the toxic fear all over the place and you didn't even have time to react

"(NAME)!"

Bruce shouted trying to get you out of there but it was too late

He could see how your body fell to the ground trembling while tears came out of your eyes

He could hear how you screamed in fear and begged for it to stop

"NO! NO PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME REMEMBER, ANYTHING BUT THAT!"

You said between screams while you grabbed your head and curled up further into yourself

Bruce was surprised to see you in that state, he had never seen you so vulnerable and scared

He knew it was the fear gas's fault but he was still surprised, not even when you were little and had come to the mansion you never showed yourself scared or vulnerable

Since you were little you always had that look full of hate and resentment

He quickly went to you to check your condition, he hugged you tightly to prevent you from hurting yourself because of your state

"(Name)!, please react!"

He said trying to make you see reason but all you did was scream in pain and agony

Whatever you were hallucinating was much worse than anything

_

Your head was full of memories of your childhood and that incident

You were supposed to forget it forever but apparently they decided to come back

...

You didn't remember your mother's face, it was a blur between your memories you only remember her tired voice

When you were little you didn't understand why she always seemed so depressed and tired, you were too young to understand the world around you

She was hardly ever home and if she was she was always lying on the couch drinking cheap alcohol

You always asked her what was wrong but she always answered "it's adult things, honey"

In those moments your little self wished you could be an adult and understand everything, to be able to help your mom with whatever she was suffering

But you couldn't, you were a little girl unaware of the world and the problems that surrounded her

You wished your mother had been more present in your life

You knew she had to work for hours and then come back tired, but still...

You still wanted her love

You saw how the other kids at school came to pick them up, how they hugged their parents happily

Hugs

Have you always wanted to know what it would feel like to have someone hug you, would it feel as warm and comfortable as many say?

You just wanted to experience that, deep down you dreamed that someone would hug you in such a quality and loving way

Then that day came, you could still remember it

You had come home from school as usual, everything seemed normal

Too normal

"Mom, I'm home!"

Screaming at you as you took off your shoes and left your backpack on the table

You found it strange that she didn't answer since she was supposed to stay home today

You walked down the small hallway of the apartment until you reached your mother's door

It was half open and you thought he was asleep, you opened it excitedly but all that joy and excitement disappeared as soon as you saw that horrible scene

"M-mom..."

You said in shock looking at her hanging body, small tears came out of your eyes as you looked at that scene completely paralyzed

You quickly reacted and went to her crying, praying to any god that existed that this wasn't real

But it was real, your mother's skin was as cold as the snow falling outside the apartment

After that it seemed that your memory decided to erase all traces of something you remembered

To a certain extent you could still feel your mother's cold skin between your hands

When you were little you didn't understand why Your mother had done that, but now

Now you understood everything...

_

You woke up in your bed, you heard the soft knock on your door

It was Alfred asking you to go have breakfast

"I'm not hungry Alfred, just leave me alone please..."

You said in a tired tone, it was the same tone your mother had

You curled up further in your bed, the old butler said something you weren't able to hear but you didn't care either

Nothing mattered anymore

So the days went by, you weren't even able to get out of your bed or eat

Even the batfam was surprised not to see you as usual to patrol

Richard decided to check on you and almost fainted when he saw your condition, your room was a mess, full of dirty clothes and other things

It was almost impossible to walk around there, your floor was full of things like books, clothes and other things that he didn't want to know what it was

But the worst was your appearance, you smelled terribly bad and your hair was greasy

He quickly forced you to take a shower, he had to push you into the bathroom since you didn't even deign to answer or get up

After Richard told the rest of the family about your sorry state something inside them turned on, like a protective instinct towards his sister

Now they had to force you to do things as mundane as bathing or eating, since apparently you weren't even capable of doing it by yourself

Each member of the batfam tried to cheer you up in their own way

Jason took you with him to the library while he told you about the new book he was reading, he thought it might be interesting for you but all you did was give him a tired look

Tim made you sit next to him while he worked on his computer, sometimes he asked you if you wanted to help him in some case but you just refused

The old you would have accepted without hesitation but the old you was no longer there

Damian and Cass made you go with them to train with them but you refused, arguing that you were too tired or didn't feel like it

So they just made you sit there while you watched them train since Bruce asked everyone to keep an eye on you

Steph and Barbara tried to cheer you up by making you spend time with them, but nothing worked

You gave them the same empty and tired look you gave everyone

Bruce decided that the best thing was to take you out of school and take you with him to work, since according to him you were in a very delicate and vulnerable state

Besides he could educate you, you didn't need any teacher when you had him, it was much better since you spent all day by his side and he could control you better

Richard tried to get you to bake a cake with him but all you did was look at him tiredly before nodding at his idea

But he still tried to make you happy while you two cooked but nothing could make you feel something

You were like a doll without emotions, you had entered a state where you couldn't even tell what was real and what wasn't

Your body was there but your conscience wasn't

But don't worry, as long as you're next to them you don't have to worry about anything

I'm thinking of updating Goodbye World My soon, there are just a few things left to edit and then I'll upload it

Leaving that aside, I hope you enjoy this!

@strwberryglass

[should-be-sleeping]

Hi, hello, go fuck yourself. :)

First,

Secondly, by the 40's only 33% of farms even had electricity. What timeline are you from? Because it isn't this one. Farm equipment largely ran by man or horse power until the 50's and even the labor done by beast of burden required human labor. I never said by hand, that was a you embellishment. We still use man power in farming today even with all the advancements to technology and its prevalence. Hell, slave labor is still utilized today, what rock do you live beneath?

Third, I love that you genuinely think that working for actual mobsters is nonviolent, that's very... special. I figured the average reader could connect A to B and get the hint yet, here you are, acting like the hint is some big gotcha revelation you alone have uncovered with your massive throbbing intellect. But, what should I expect from a nazi apologist that got banned from reddit for spreading misinformation?

By the way, just for the record, the average age in which children join a gang today is still 12-14. Your bland experience is not universal. A story that seems wild to you is just someone else's Tuesday. It'll be okay though. Just remember: the world is a vast and varied place!

In conclusion, I'm sorry that you think skepticism alone makes you smart, but it doesn't. Wow, log off. Holy shit. Once again, please don't forget to go fuck yourself. I know I was trying to politely explain the linear passage of time earlier but I want to make it very clear that you're an unlikable person and I do not like you. I had to spell that out to be sure we're on the same page, because we definitely weren't when you took the time to write all that nonsense earlier that you're clearly unqualified to even think about in the privacy of your own thoughts let alone regurgitate out loud.

Imagine reading a post about hope and positive influence and deciding you need to refute it (incorrectly in every way) because you're such a miserable cavity of a person.

P.S. I'll save you the time of a reply by blocking you outright as you've more than proven you have nothing to add to any conversation above the 4th grade level, have the personality of a wet sack of rancid onions, and behaving Like This on purpose is clearly doing your mental health no favors, just fyi. Have the life you deserve.

P.P.S. Had I realized earlier they think Elon Musk is a genius, I could've saved time and just said: lmao. Alas.

P.P.P.S. This dude is being so normal about being proven wrong, and blocked, that he's apparently posted a long winded rebuttal wherein he continuously embellishes the original story with his own interpretations of events because he has the reading comprehension of what I can only assume is on par with a goat and the most terminal case of Must Be Right I've ever seen online. He cannot disprove the words I actually typed, so he's just making up new ones. He goes on to conclude illiteracy was and is rare by proving it is still common by existing himself (the modern rate is 21% btw). Interesting hill to die on, but at least he's dead.

He probably heard "all press is good press!" once and now spends time trying to debate more popular blogs hoping 1 or 2 of their followers will then read his fanfic, but this is the extent of attention given. In a week no one will even remember him here and he'll still be typing. It's not a debate if the other person has a fundamental commitment to misunderstanding you.

Re: Hobbies

My grandfather was born during The Great Depression. He attended a  one-room school with all the kids in the neighborhood until his teacher deemed him a lost cause. As a problem child he was sent out back with the other misfits during school hours with a stack of comic books to entertain themselves – because they couldn’t read but could look at the pictures. He and the others taught themselves to read so that they could figure out what was going on in the panels. Daredevil and Batman are the only reason he knows how to read. After a fire destroyed his family’s home, he lived in a shack with his mother, father and five other siblings. Suffering third degree burns over more than half of her body during their escape from the blaze, he was removed from school to care for his mother and spent the next few years watching as she slowly died. One of her only comforts was in knowing that he had learned to read so he could make something of himself one day. After losing his wife, my grandfather’s father sold him and his sister to two different families a few counties over. Using the money from those transactions, he was able to keep the remainder of the family afloat. No one knows what became of my great aunt but my grandfather wound up on a farm where he was no longer allowed the luxury of reading, or anything really. My grandfather lived the next handful of years as a slave on a potato farm where he slept in a barn and was given nothing to eat but extra potatoes. If there were no extra potatoes, he did not eat. It is important to remember at this point in time, he was very much still a child. He should have been reading comic books, but instead he was working sixteen hours a day without pay. Finally he could take it no longer and ran away. He hopped into a train car and wound up in the city. By the tender age of twelve he was living in an abandoned building with all the other discarded children of that time period and rats the size of small dogs. He wound up in a gang, fighting for survival in a place that didn’t care enough about starving, suffering children to help them in any way. Sometimes he’d steal comics and read them to the other kids. He was doing things to survive that all his comic book heroes would have condemned him for and that realization, and some good luck, are what got him out of that situation he found himself in. He ran into one of his brothers by sheer accident and neither of them even realized it at the time. Two meetings later, the cat was out of the bag and my grandfather had an “in” to an honest job. He should have been starting high school but instead he was starting a factory job. At least it wasn’t stealing or robbing. At least he was being paid for his manual labor. His first paycheck he gave to the kids he used to run with so that for just one night they wouldn’t have to resort to violence. That is the last time he saw them. He doesn’t know what became of any of them. He met his future wife and through her more doors opened. Driven by this goal to not be The Bad Guy he excelled at all the odd jobs he wound up with and after a lot of heartache and strife, wound up wealthy. Money doesn’t make you exempt from tragedy however. He lost the love of his life before the age of thirty and had to raise their three small children as a single father. Introducing my uncle to comic books is what helped keep him around when, as a teenager, Depression threatened to take him from the world. While still grieving his best friend stole millions from their business leaving him in debt. He’s faced a lot of discrimination solely due to the color of his skin… but none of it has jaded him. If anything it has only, somehow, made him kinder. He is without a doubt the best human being I have ever personally met. He hires maids and maintenance people just to pay them, serves them lunch when they arrive and lets them hang out – just to give them a day off. At eighty he does all his own housework and lawn care. He walks the neighborhood’s dogs. Even though he isn’t rich anymore he still tips fifty percent when he eats out, even at fast food joints. He doesn’t have much time to volunteer but he gives so much of his money to charities and people he runs into on the street who just need something good to happen in their day to make it to the next. And he does all of this to make up for this brief period of time in his life when, as a literal child, he had to hurt people and do bad things to survive. He still lives his life in accordance to some super hero code he picked up as a child that taught himself to read behind a school that gave up on him. Reading matters. Having something unimportant to care about is important. Small things are actually huge. They make the difference. If my grandfather’s origin story has taught me anything it’s that when you’re at your lowest moment, there’s always that one thing that can help guide you through it. “It’s just a hobby” can save lives. Reading, television, art, dancing, gaming, writing, sports, knitting, collecting, singing, whatever gives you joy. Never feel foolish for caring deeply about something commonly viewed as frivolous or a waste of time. It’s not. I cannot stress that enough. It’s okay to like things and for those things to be important to your day to day life. It’s okay.

[plaidos]

hey hi so i have a question about how to rebutt an argument? not that i agree with it, i just can't think of a good way to argue with it and i need to correct some people in my life because theyre saying it and it seems kinda dangerous and fucked up. okay so basically the argument is "we don't know that transmascs experience less sexual assault and homelessness than transfems, because transmasc invisibility applies to statistics reporting too." basically the argument is that transmascs who are raped or are homeless are reported as cis women mostly and trans status is rarely acknowledged even if they're on hormones. so we can't actually know how much statistically transmascs are raped or homeless. again i do not agree with this argument but i'm not really sure how to rebutt it because when i've tried to say that's not true the people in my life have shown me statistics and theory and stuff that i dont really understand well enough to argue against it, any sources or good arguments would be appreciated. thank you i hope youre doing okay!

this is a nonsensical argument, because it asserts that the only reason these statistics are so high IRT trans women is because we are hypervisible. Whilst we ARE hypervisible, that term doesn’t just generically mean “we show up more in every instance” it means that more negative attention is directed our way culturally speaking. like, the statistics i’ve seen used similar/the same sample sizes for transfems & transmascs; this seems like a fundamental misunderstanding of statistics. both transmascs & transfems are incredibly understudied when it comes to statistics about rates of violence etc for sure, and doing more studies about this will lead to better clarity about the average situations here.

“transfems are hypervisible and transmascs are invisible” just numerically can’t account for higher reported rates of sexual assault among transfems than transmascs. and like, this gap is true (though it’s less exaggerated here) for every other group of people i can think of too, there’s no reason to assume it should be magically swapped for transmascs or transfems unless you see us as our assigned gender and think that every single trans person is read as their assigned gender most of the time.

idk, @capnsoapy knows more about stats than me — those transmascs seem to pretty obviously be arguing in poor faith IMO.

[thememeslayer]

"Welcome to my lobby boys, we're going to have a great time in our battle royale session today. I believe with your help I can guide us to victory, I have faith that God will guarantee us to win this round of matchmaking today. Let's get started setting up our base here by this nice greenery."

"Greetings Captain, I will assist you in setting up our base. Let me go out and get resources we need for our camp"

"Sir John, building our base here would be a terrible idea. There's no cover in case of enemy raids and the number of resources here mean we will constantly be taking enemy aggro. I suggest we move our base to somewhere more discreet"

"Nonsense Francis, we have everything we need here to completely wash anyone who tries to engage us in both 1v1s and group raids. Any more objections and I will kick you from the game"

.......

"Captain, I came back to camp and our base was griefed! Sir John is nowhere to be found. I thought he just got killed by the griefers, but I don't even see him connected to the game or hear him over vc"

"NO! SIR JOHN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" *slams desk in gamer rage*

"I fear that Sir John may have been hacked, Lt. Little"

[siri-ike]

@megasweetbones I'm making this the prequel to the other fic

Warning ⚠️ suicidal thoughts from a child, ploting to murder a child, multiple deaths, semi successful suicide, S.A., victim blaming negative self-talk

(Also, let me know, do you want the warning, or is it too much of a spoiler?)

Pronunciation guide for the name Álaug

Ál sounds like owl, Au sounds like eui, soft G

The thorns dug into her palm, causing her to bleed, but she refused to loosen her grip. This is it. Álaug thought as gravity brought her closer and closer to her inevitable end. Well, actually, she thought, "Í víti finn ég loksins frið" but, she's about to die, she's allowed to be a litte edge lord right now. The closer she got the brighter she could see the glow of the Lazarus water from behind her. She kurled in on herself around the black rose as the pit swallowed her whole.

One week earlier

This is it. This is the day Athanasia will escape. She's planned it for months, and it's finally time.

"Your target is Gord Keener, a Canadian politician. He's sponsoring a girl's hockey league. You will each join one of the teams to get close and kill him once you get the opportunity."

Athanasia stood perfectly still, as Grandfather assigned her her first leading role for a mission since being declared an unsuccessful attempt. It would just be her and Danielle, no, Daniel. He had told her just a few nights ago. No way would Grandfather accept him like that, especially on top of all his other issues, so she had to bring him. Which is fine. She can hunt food for herself. What's one more? Plus, she's ha- he's had some combat training, too. That's gonna take some getting used to.

The problem started when Grandfather made her bring Álaug. Come on, she had only been there for 2 months. She's not ready for a task. She barely speaks their language. But you know what? Athanasia is nothing if not resilient. She will overcome this obstacle. And not just because Daniel begged her not to kill her and push her body of a steep cliff.

Tryouts were easy, Daniel was great in cold environments, and Álaug was surprisingly a fantastic skater. They successfully infiltrated the 7, 8, and 9 year old teams.

Even with the added obstacle, this all felt too perfect. If Athanasia didn't know any better, she'd think Grandfather was purposely putting all his problems in one boat to get rid of them. The mission itself is so inconsequential. What could one polite snowman do to them?

"What about you, Jasmine?... Jasmine?"

Oh, right. Jasmine was the name she had given.

"What?"

"Which comic do you want? Alicia brought a bunch." One of the Olivias stated.

"I have Phantom Stranger, Tales from Atlantis, Boom-boom Kaboom, Return of the Gray Ghost, and The Time Keeper. Everything else is already taken."

These girls don't even know her. And from how Alicia had spoken about her books, they were clearly important.

Atha- Jasmine ended up reading 7 issues of the Time Keeper. A mysterious cloaked figure who punishes time travelers for messing with the timestream. What utter nonsense. The real Time-Wraiths would never be as welcoming and well spoken as this Time Keeper. And yet she can't stop reading. That is, until she gets to the 7th issue. In it, there's a side plot where three young girls are planning to assassinate a member of the time council. The oldest and youngest were sisters. The youngest looked exactly like Daniel but had short hair, and the third character was the most concerning. In the story, the girls told the Green Hornet that they were being blackmailed into doing the job, but in the end, it turned out the third girl had been sent as a spy.

Athanasia can in no way be considered gullible or naive. Even by assassin standards, she can sniff out a lie a mile away. But this, this is different. But the book she chose happened to be the one that warns of a traitor? That has to be an omen, or some kind of spirit trying to warn her.

At this point, Daniel is used to pretending to be one of the girls. But it felt different this time. One of his teammates had asked if she could call him Dani for short, and it felt so right. Righter than "Daniel" had felt. "Danny" was absolutely perfect.

There wasn't really any information gathering to do, so he was free to play sleepover games with the rest of his group. For once, he was included with the others. The adults didn't try to separate him or tell him he's too weak or that he was a waste of resources. He was just part of the group. Is this what life will be like outside the league? He couldn't wait to tell Athanasia all about it.

Two months ago Álaug was happily vacationing with her parents and two older brothers. And now she's expected to kill some guy? She had exepted that her parents were dead. She had had to. And even if Bölverkur and Böðólfur had survived in the first place, they definitely couldn't have survived two months alone in the Himalayan mountains. They can't even be left home alone for a week. Couldn't.

"Oley? Oley? Can you hear me?" One of the hockey girls was butchering her name.

"It's Á-laug," There wasn't any feeling in her voice. She used to hate it when people mispronounced her name. "It means curse or charmed lake."

That seemed to catch the girls off guard, and they left her alone for a while after that.

Until one of the adults walked over to her. Not the coach. This is one of the girls' moms.

"Hi, sweetheart." She placed a hand on Álaugs knee only to get slapped away. "Why are you mad at the other girls?"

Leading question, assigning her an emotion rather than asking her how she feels. The assassins taught her all about it. There's no point talking to her because she's already decided what's happening. Álaug stood up in silence and headed towards the door. The woman grabbed her hand. As she expected, there was no attempt to check herself. She would only assign blame. Álaug looked back at her. There was nothing in her eyes, no aggression or sadness, just hollowness. "What is your plan?" She leers. "Hoping that I'll scream and yell, so you can look like the big stong authority figure? Want me to blindly obey your orders so you can feel powerful? What me to cry, so you can comfort the new girl? You didn't even ask what happened. You just decided that I was in the wrong. Because someone told you a biased version of half a story." Álaug was fully aware how uncomfortable she made people, no one likes hearing such complicated accusations from a 9 year old, especially one who is clearly speaking a second language. And the calmness makes her all the more unsettling. But right now, she just couldn't pretend. The parent chaperone, or whatever she was, stood there in stunned silence long enough for Álaug to make her way out of the common area and into one of their bedrooms, where she locked herself in. From there, it was just a matter of climbing out the window. Hopefully, she'd get lucky and never see any of these people again, not the hockey team, the assassins, her cooperatives, anyone. Maybe she'd get lucky and disappear forever. Their room was on the 14th floor. She could disappear right now, and no one could stop her.

🎶🎵🎶

If only whoever was in the room to the left above them could stop singing for five minutes so she could think.

Climbing wasn't just something the league thought her. She was already good. She was on a lot of teams and sports clubs before Nanba Parbat. Not that any of that mattered now. Her friends probably think she died with her family. If only. There was a half-naked man singing and dancing alone in the room. He was way off tune. She climbed properly onto the balcony. Should she pick the lock or knock? Wait, no, why would she need to get in? She didn't care about this guy. The only thing he has going for him is that he hasn't pissed her off yet. She opted for knocking, which startled him in a rather animated manner. He opened the glass door to let her inside.

"Did Henry lock you out here?"

"Ég slapp frá forráðamönnum mínum." Easier to pretend not to know English.

"I don't understand." He paused as though thinking. "WOULD. YOU. LIKE. SOME. TEA?" Idiot.

She walked past him towards the door. But she stops. Putting aside the stupidity of trying to yell over the language barrier, why offer tea? Does he expect her to stay? She hurries, but the door is locked. Hotel doors aren't supposed to lock people in. There must be someth-

"Come now, he was probably just having a bit of fun."

She should have known. How could she be so stupid? Any trustworthy person would have been shocked to see an 8 year old girl in pajamas on their balcony. She didn't need to look back to know he was coming closer. For the first time in two months, she actually felt something. Why'd it have to be fear? She bolted for the nearest open door, which happened to lead to bedroom with a large fancy looking bed. She closed the door behind her, but there was nothing to block it. All she could do was hide. Whether she chose under the bed or in the closet, she'd be at a disadvantage either way. She darted under the bed. Down side: reduced speed, vulnerable position. Upside: he's too big to fit, and he can't reach her if she stays in the center.

"Putting up a fight, huh? I like that. Some of the other girls he hires make it too easy."

Tell him you weren't hired for anything and give away your location? Or assume the worst of a guy who apparently regularly hires girls young enough that she could be confused for one. Easy choice. She trained her eyes on his shoes as closed the door behind him.. Then his pants dropped to his ankles. Álaug reaches a hand into her pajama bottoms, for the knife straped to her thigh. Thank you, League of Assassins... ACTUALLY NO, they're the reason she's here. The league can all go lick this guy's sweaty butthole!

"Do you have braces?" He slowly made his way towards the bed. "The last one had braces. They leave scratches." It sounded like he wanted the answer to be yes.

The closet made a creaking noise, and he turned to it. He opened the closet door and grunted in disappointment. Álaug heard the scratching of hangers sliding around on a metal pole and clothes being shifted around. Interrupted suddenly by a thump, then a second, smaller pair of bare feet land on the floor behind him as he trips forward into the closet. Álaug uses the opportunity to run out from under the bed and slice his exposed ankles. He screamed and swore at the top of his lungs but only for a moment before Álaugs knife was taken from her and stabbed straight into the man's neck. The other girl. She stood there holding the knife in place and covered in blood. She was obscured in the darkness. The man jolted an arm, and Álaug took the chance to leap over to the other girl, grab the knife, and repeatedly stab him in the throat again. She felt a pain in her cheeks. She brought a hand to her face only to find that she couldn't stop smiling. Like this was her life's greatest accomplishment. The other girl took her hand and they left the room together.

In the light of the living area, she could properly make out the girls' features. She had medium brown skin and darker brown currly hair with a few broken butterflies clips in it. Her greenish brown eyes were full of tears and snot poured from her upturned nose. She examined Álaug too. Her eyes darted from her straight, dirty blonde hair to her narrow chin and down to her slightly oversized PJs held together with a headband around her waist.

"I'm Nadia. You?"

"Álaug, it's Owl like the animal Au like in bird and ends with a soft G."

"Oh, ok, um, Nadia is like, ah.-"

"It's fine. I can remember Nadia." Álaug pointed at Nadias loose jersey. "You on one of the teams?"

"Nah, Mama Crieo had me wear this to get into the hotel."

Álaug looked down at the logo on her own top. "Oh, you're an assassin, too?"

"Uhm, no." She looked at Álaug with a bit more scrutiny this time. "Who were you here to assassinate?"

"Gord Keener, a politician, I don't know what he did, can't be as bad as that guy." She gestured back to the unconscious man bleeding out behind them.

Nadia narrowed her eyes. She pointed to a suitcase on the floor. Álaug walked over to it, and Nadia followed, still refusing to let go of her hand. Álaug checked the bag tag from his flight. "Keener"

"Oh, well, that worked out nicely then."

"Nicely? Are you - " She sighed." Never mind, we should get out of here." She holds out her blood-stained jersey. "He probably didn't have spares in our sizes."

Nadia hated the plan. Staying in the suite with a dead body while Álaug climed down to get extra clothes was the absolute last thing she wanted to do, right after having to use their assailants grown man shoes to step in more creep blood to obscure their distinctly child sized bloody footprints. She finished shortly before Álaug got back, wearing two pairs of shorts and to jerseys, and two pairs of sneakers slung over her shoulders. They left the clothes near the body and snuck out using a keycard Nadia had found during her cover-up.

"Olie!"

They were almost to the front door when that same parent chaperone spotted them.

"Olie! Get back here!" She ran towards them. And they sprinted as fast as they could, but it was no use. "Olie, we were worried sick. How did you even get out?" She held tight onto Álaugs wrist.

"I thought your name was Álaug." Nadia remarked.

"So, did, I." Álaug snarked.

"This isn't funny. You're coming with me." She started walking back, dragging a resistant Álaug behind her.

Nadia watched on horrified, a million thoughts rushed in and out of her head, and she did something she never thought she would.

She bit the woman's hand.

It was shocking enough that they both could escape out the front door without being caught.

They stopped in an alley almost three blocks away to catch their breath.

"We need to find a thrift store, catwalk around wearing a recognizable team logo." Álaug suggested.

"Ok," Nadia pulled a battered looking leather wallet from he pants pocket. "20, 40, 60, 80, 90, 100, 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 26, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. We have one hundred and thirty-two dollars. Hope they have coats in our size, or at least thick hoodies." She picked out the ID and credit cards. "Mama Crieo says to never take the cards because they can be tracked." She slips them into a nearby drain cover.

"I can't believe I didn't think to take his money." Álaug looks fondly at Nadia. "That must be why people commit crimes with partners."

The elderly woman who owned the diner they'd hidden behind very helpfully gave them directions to the nearest second-hand store not owned by Debra, to whom she apparently refused to send business. The store she sent them to was perfect. The kids' section was huge, and they were even able to find somewhat matching overalls. Score. Álaugs were mossy green with leaves mushrooms and caterpillar embroidery, paired with a pale yellow bell-sleeved blouse, winter stockings, and black Mary Jane shoes. Nadias were a light pink to orange gradient with butterflies and cherry blossom branches, paired with a white long sleeved t-shirt, pale pink winter stockings, and black boots. The hoodie selection was less interesting but they found a purple one with a dinosaur on it and a black one with some stars on the back.

At the counter Álaug quickly ran off and brought back one more item. A pack of butterfly hair clips that she presented to her friend with a smile. They were different from the ones Nadia had, or, the two that were still intact. Her old ones were semi transparent and had round wings. These new ones were glittery and had more square-ish wings. But they were perfect anyway. The price came out to 73CAD and 1 cent. The cashier was nice enough to ignore the one cent so they wouldn't have to carry a bunch of change with them.

Nadia counts their money again after they leave, 59CAD, more than enough for two lunch packs and train tickets. The plan was to go back to Mama Crieo since Henry probably wasn't going to give her a ride back now.

Train tickets for under 12 are 10CAD each, prepackaged sandwiches are 4CAD each, and since somehow water costs money in this country, two water bottles were almost 3CAD, leaving them with only 28.32CAD left.

"Back home water is free." Álaug sat cross-legged in her seat.

"Where is that?" Nadia opened her bottle with a little fizz, she picked the strawberry flavored sparkling water. She wanted a soda, but Álaug told her the salt in it would only make her thirsty again.

"Ísland." She reminisced. That's where her home is, where her grandparents are, her classmates, and where her, her parents, and brothers should all be. "We were on vacation, my mom and dad, Bölverkur and Böðólfur, my brothers." Álaug noticed the confusion on Nadias face. "They were twins, böl means to do something bad, and verk means work or action. Böð means, like, a message about danger or inviting evil, and ólfur comes from úlfur meaning wolf. So Bad do-er and Evil message wolf."

Nadia chucked a bit. And so did Álaug, for a short moment, but it quickly turned to tears.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, they're perfectly good names." Nadia tried.

Álaug wiped her eyes. "No, it's fine. Æi, They're probably dead, is all. But it's OK, it doesn't hurt as much as before." She sniffled.

Nadia looked down thinking of a way to change the subject. "What does your name mean?"

Inhaling, she tried to steady herself. "Álaug is a combination of álög meaning curse or enchantment, and laug meaning pool. So, a cursed lake. All Icelandic names have some kind of meaning. My dad once got me a book with all the parts of names explained. Like, æ, laug is a pretty common end for a girl name, then there's also Ey meaning island, Rún meaning seacret or friend, Dýs meaning fairy or goddes or some kind of magical woman. For boys' names, there's Ólfur and Úlfur, both mean wolf, Þór God of thunder and lightning, protector of the courts, and those who work the land, Vin meaning friend. There's a whole bunch of them. A lot of starts to, you could pick any of the common starts of a name and a common ending of a name and put them together.-"

That wasn't the end of Álaugs speech,she actually talked about Icelandic naming conversations for almost an hour, and Nadia did not try to stop her. She didn't even remind her to eat her sandwich.

There's way too much of this, so I'll reblog with the second half.

The other fic is Jasmine Al-Ghul

Translations

"Í víti finn ég loksins frið"-> "in the void, I will finally find peace."

"Ég slapp frá forráðamönnum mínum." -> "I escaped from my guardians."

(Ignore my rant in the tags)

If the Lazarus Pits are ectoplasm, what happens if someone throws blood blossoms in one?

[writeshite]

“Careful now.” Mr. Milchick cautioned, his left palm just beneath yours as he’d stopped you from nearly dropping the small, neatly wrapped box. He guided your left hand back to a level height, around ninety degrees at angle from elbow to hand. “We wouldn’t want to break that.” His right hand was set atop yours on the top side of the gift box.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Milchick,” you sighed in relief. “My apologies, my outie overexerted himself this past weekend.”

“Yeah, that’s called sex,” Dylan snarked, pointing to the hard to cover hickeys trailing to the back of your ear. You weren’t exactly eager to promote or detail your outie’s sex-life.

“It’s his outie’s wedding anniversary,” Mark rectified Dylan’s crass statement.

“I’m aware,” Mr. Milchick responded, “Five years, seven months, and twelve weeks.” His left hand softly traced your wedding ring. If you didn't know any better, you'd say his smile took a softer tone; the usual dead joy in his eyes looked almost enamored. “My congratulations to your outie. I imagine the annual exhaustion indicative of a successful and joyous marriage."

Dylan's yearly crude joke on the matter was cut short as Irving placed a hand on his mouth. "I believe so too," you beamed, "alongside the presents, of course." You nodded to the gift in your hands. "Thank you for hand-delivering this year's gift, and last year's, and the year before that. You really don't have to; I'm sure there are better things to do." You glanced down at the gift; his hands had yet to leave yours.

"Nonsense," he assured you, "It's no trouble at all." Mr. Milchick squeezed your hands and, with one final smile, left the space. Irving made a disgusted sound as Dylan licked his palm and darted into the supply closet for a tissue.

Dylan pursed his lips, glancing over at the door; once certain Mr. Milchick wasn't returning soon, he teased, “Get a room next time, will you?”

You rolled your eyes. "It's hardly sexual to talk to a coworker."

"It is when you and Milchick do it," Dylan pulled a face in good jest. "Tell him, Mark!" He attempted to corral Mark to his side, "The eyefucking is abysmally disgusting." He dramatically exclaimed.

"I mean," Mark pursed his lips momentarily, "I don't really see anything of the sort," his words caused disbelief to rise on Dylan's face. "Besides, isn't Milchick married?"

Both Dylan and you turn to each other, then Mark, before shrugging, uncertain as to the answer. "How can you be sure?" Dylan asked.

His question was met with no answer as Irving returned and sternly expressed Mr. Milchick's preference for privacy: "What extracurricular activities Mr. Milchick has have no bearing here; he hardly enjoys sharing facts about himself outside of work, we should respect that." Dylan pouted and directed a not-so-quiet 'party pooper' at Irving; the latter turned to you and smiled earnestly, "Besides, aren't you more excited to find what anniversary present our friend has this year?"

Dylan half-shrugged, and he and Mark turned their attention to the gift box as you tore away the purple wrapping. This year's gift was an appropriately and mildly decorated set of custom sticky notes. "Your outie's husband is quite thoughtful," Irving commented, glancing at the stickers. He's a lucky man."

[mzannthropy]

Anne of the Island Chapter 9

Anne enjoyed it [the second term] thoroughly in all its phases—the stimulating class rivalry, the making and deepening of new and helpful friendships, the gay little social stunts, the doings of the various societies of which she was a member, the widening of horizons and interests.

I wish LMM gave us more of this, instead of summing it up in one paragraph. I'd like to see more of the student's life and the different societies. AOTI is my favourite of the series, but I can think of ways it could have been so much better... a lot of telling instead of showing.

So Gilbert is extra careful to only act as an old friend. "...she was very glad, so she told herself, that he had evidently dropped all nonsensical ideas—though she spent considerable time secretly wondering why." Do you, Anne?

And so we have another proposal. Well, the bar was on the floor after Billy Andrews, it could only get better, though that's not much of a consolation. Anne doesn't think she gave Charlie Sloane any encouragement--she did let him walk her home that evening after the party in Avonlea, but then she hangs out with Gilbert way more often--but honestly I don't think it would matter how well or poorly she treated him bc he was always determined to propose to her. Charlie might be working towards his degree, but what he really needs is a course in self-awareness. Poor Anne feels so bad after going off at him, I wish I could give her a hug. Like, we don't all behave gracefully at all time and some people can bring out the worst in you. It's a win for Miss Ada's cushions, at least. Also I take it that Anne is not keen to talk about this proposal to anyone either?

We hear from Stella Maynard again! LMM should have written The Trials of a Country Schoolmarm, I bet she'd have a lot to say. I don't know how anyone could think of teacher's work as easy, in those times, when they had one classroom to teach everything to all grades! (I mean, even now.) Stella's coming to Redmond and they're all going to rent a house together with her aunt as their housekeeper! And Patty's Place just happens to be available to let. Well, Anne had that premonition that she would get to know the house better. And bc this is a book of fiction, you know how it's going to go--but that's for the next chapter.

[astertimberwolf]

We're all survivors of one too many bad things happening to us. I've healed from a lot, but CPTSD still makes me feel like I'm the lonelist of all, at times... Mostly because of trust issues. It becomes so hard to trust again and so easy to become a hermit or social recluse who never wants to leave their safe space or interact with other people ever again- out of fear of being abused, hurt, let down, disappointed, etc. all over- for the umpteenth time.

I think the thing that stings the most is- knowing, deep down, that the likelihood of you finding love... AKA someone who understands you wholly, respects you, cherishes you, supports you and wants to know- and love every single part of you... Is close to none. At least for me it is- or feels that way. When people look at me, they only see my mental health issues, my quirks, my defects, my vulnerabilities- or worse yet: my past mistakes. They're not able to see that there's a complex, emotionally deep, sensitive, empathetic, caring conscious being underneath all this.

Yes, I'm autistic and have ADHD. Yes, I suffer from Complex PTSD, which can lead to unfounded anxiety or depressive bouts from time to time- and hinder my ability to socialize and connect to others... But I've got a lot of love to give as well, a past- complete with a stupid number of experiences, both good and bad... a story to tell- a personality, which, while quirky, doesn't make me repulsive or hard to be around. I've also got lots of hobbies and interests as well... In short, I'm not just another "walking, talking problem" or "NPC you can interact with". I'm a person that can add color to your life. All you have to do is take some time to get to know me. If you're not a bad person, then I don't bite at all and won't retreat into myself to safeguard my wellbeing.

Life is so short, yet so many people have been traumatized or are socially maladapted to a stupid degree because they grew up on toxic social media... Wouldn't it be amazing if it became easier to form bonds and deeper connections with people? If we learnt to communicate and respect each other more? Live in harmony despite being very different? Share laughs, good memories and find company in one-another?

I don't know if this pain is just a consequence of having CPTSD- or if it's a whole slew of generations that depended on the internet for everything and, now, don't know how to form meaningful friendships / relationships with one-another.

If we want to change things for the better, we have to start putting more time, effort and points into empathy and mutual understanding. I have... But so many people I have come across have not, and it's deeply saddening and disheartening that nobody takes the time to develop their emotional intelligence or maturity any more... I want a better world and better people...

...a better future. I'm fighting for all that, tooth and nail. But will people join my plea and fight? Can we turn this around...? Be it through investing more time in platforms where you actually have a semblance of seeing a person in front of you like VRChat- or even creating new places where people can gather and help one another?

I don't know anymore. I'm rambling at this point. But I think these are real problems that everyone is just looking away from or denying the existence of by pretending everything is fine... It really is not. Can we make this year, a year where humanity starts slowly turning around and becomes a truly social, communal species again- instead of this individualistic, narcissistic, consumeristic / capitalistic nonsense? I know the former sounds political, but it really isn't. Look at how the most popular social media platforms are designed to enrage us, manipulate us, degrade our attention, ability to function- and click on stupid ragebait and misinformation. All for the sake of targeted adverts, engagement... And at the end of the day, money. It's always about that and not people's wellbeing. Is there a way to stop this and start over? :(

believe me, it hurts like hell to face the fact no one is coming to save you.. but fighting to save yourself can give you a connection to yourself that no one else can give you. it's a feeling that honestly can't be put into words. but it's so worth sticking around for.

and this doesn't mean you have to fight alone. there will be people in your life who can help tend your wounds. give you a safe space to rest. teach you how to strengthen the parts of yourself that are injured. or simply be with you in between battles, doing all the wonderful things that make life worth living, together.

i don't know if that made sense. i just want anyone else going through it to know there is another side to the hopelessness and desperation you're feeling. maybe it won't feel like mine is. but i do hope it's just as rewarding for you. you deserve that much, and so much more.

whatever you're facing now does not have to be the end of you. keep going. i promise you're worth it.

[randomnameless]

Why do the FEH devs insist on ignoring Nabatean lore so much?

I recently had a surprisingly cordial discussion on redshit with someone about the "nabateans = colonisers" take, and one of the main points raised was that the game was purposedly foggy around Nabateans/Sothis/their story because it would obviously favor a certain narrative (and thus make another narrative look, uh, not that marketable anymore).

To be honest, we still ended up with a product that had a lead go "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and yet that lead is still marketable enough to have raunchy cipher cards and 5 FEH alts, so I actually wonder if, while pissing on that lore had that purpose, it was ultimately pointless since Supreme Leader can still sell goodies despite her incarnation in FE16.

And not only Supreme Leader - but the entirety of WC where we basically have 70% of the cast crying/complaining about their "mixed blood" or lack of and basically adding their 10 cents to the "this race and its blood is the reason why the world sucks".

I mean, can you imagine Sylvain selling any goodies and alts if Flayn replied to his "wah wah people only are kind to me and want to fuck me because I have Nabatean blood :(" by some uncharacteristic "good for you, I have to hide my ears, had to dye my hair, have to lie about my family because if the truth is found out about my identity, I will be hunted and vivisected like an animal and harvested for parts by people who call my kin abominations - just like what happens in the game where the same people who call my kin "abominations" ally with a classmate who calls me a creature and pretends I am incapable of human feelings based on my race".

FE Fodlan's main selling point is its cast of students, for various reasons, but even if I tried to kid myself, Nopes and FEH made it clears : students are the main selling point.

If you spare more time and attention to the Nabatean plot/lore, the students either grow from "likeable" to "despicable" or worse, you won't gaf about them because yeah sure, Hilda might be upset because people expect things from her due to her crust, but it would feel like a "peanut" compared to Seteth's irrational (granted, it's not so irrational since GW exists) fear that Flayn's newest friends would dissect her if they learnt she was a Nabatean, and being conflicted by finally letting her have human friends and form bonds she crave, or protect her due to the trauma from the genocide of their species.

Don't get me wrong, I love peanuts, I mean, not everyone can have a tragik of loaded backstory!

And yet, given how this verse's DNA is "can you fight against the red emperor who uwus about you", they had to add copious amounts of Earl Grey to their games so there's no clear-cut factions :

The "Your alien blood and its influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command" vs "I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

is turned to :

"Your alien blood Crests and its your church's influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command"

"I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

Sprinkle with the cast's hammering here and there that the "reforms" might be needed - but never develop on what they are - and add a few baseless and groundless takes as a toping (basically everything Claude says about tolerance and the general "isolationism/foreign policy" stuff) and you get FE Fodlan where the Red Emperor's war isn't seen as the catastrophe it is in the other entries from the series!

Now, for FEH...

FWIW, the F!F!Billy's trailer had them try to explain that Sothis was a bit pissed about her slaughtered/massacred children when Nopes never gave any reason about why she was pissed - maybe on Billy's behalf bcs Jerry's dead, but come on, she would indeed deserve the medal of the worst parent in the franchise if that was the case, since Billy can murder her daughter without Sothis taking over ! - but given that they cannot write/go against the source game those characters are from.

They tried a bit, with B!Supreme Leader and Hegemongard's FB, but then it stopped (because she had no "new unit" released since then lol) and I can understand why : Hegemongard came out before the Supreme Emblem, and Hegemongard hates dragons who are seen/perceived as gods by some of their human followers. Come FE17, and now Supreme Emblem accepts Alear because they are "one of the good ones". We can come up with HCs and details and talk about what are emblems or if Hegemongard's views were only hers at the end of AM all day long... But imo, Doylist wise, it still feels it's a retcon because the devs from the main games tried to scrap and remove the most "controversial" traits she had.

For the other characters... Well, you see what Marianne is in FEH (but even in her base games), she's one of the few characters who reacts - in a way - to the partial history about relics and demonic beasts and all... only to give sad uwus to Maurice.

FE16 (and Nopes) refused to have any "student" character react to the Nabatean lore/reveal, about what are relics and all. There are no lines, Claude shared some knowledge in the explore section of VW's last chapter, but we don't have anyone muse or think or even talk about what are relics, what are crests, and what kind of fuckery their ancestors or the ancient humans of Fodlan did.

With that in mind, FEH can't do much : either they write Marianne in a retcon-y way like what happened for Hegemongard (and they're not afraid to piss on characterisation, look at Lyon!), or they flanderise her "character" and develop her around 3 lines she had in the game in her paralogue, and continue to give sad uwus about Momo when he was at best a guy who slaughtered and murdered so much that he abused the Nabatean turned into a relic to the point where he turned in a demonic beast even if he had a matching crest, or at worst, had been part of Nemesis's piñata party in Zanado and was something of a genocider.

Tldr :

Why FE Fodlan never gaf about Nabateans : earl grey + the marketable cast has to stay marketable and you can't sell peanuts at the same price you'd sell swordfish

Why FEH dgaf about Nabatean lore : they can't afford to retcon characters + they have to sell peanut alts with the same seasoning they had in their base game.

For what it's worth though, I think FEH is more daring than the base game(s) given how they gave more lines and screentime to Rhea - through her different alts - than GW. And they even designed her Halloween!alt's lines to piss on some of Claude's assertions, while the various FB involving members of the church also - indirectly - reply to some accusations thrown their way in FE16 when, FE16, never gave them an opportunity or lines to explain that those takes were full of dung.

*"but random, maybe she doesn't know that the crests she often decries is "dragon blood"!"

It's highly debatable, especially given what she and Hubert throw to Billy in CF - but even if she doesn't, Doylist wise we still have a character who, knowingly or not, says "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and who is never called out on her prejudice. That's more of an issue regarding the general writing though, she has to be a red emperor and took pages from Ashnard's book, and yet, the player must still feel bad and want to romance her, so her mindest/goal cannot be looked at too closely, because, I guess, even the devs thought it would be difficult to romance her (thus sell goodies!) if more light was shed on the "blood from this race corrupts our people" schtick -> which in turn would also make characters whose backstory and gimmick rely on "crying about crests" be way less likeable, thus marketable and able to sell goodies.

[bitchthefuck1]

you know what, I actually will talk about this because it's bothering me. The issue with focussing so heavily on syd and carmy's potential for a romantic relationship isn't that there's something inherently unintellectual about romance or whatever, it's that a lot of people seem incapable of doing that without immediately flattening the story and ignoring or intentionally misreading any and all nuance for the sake of that romance. Every scene suddenly becomes about how it impacts their relationship, every analysis is done through a romantic lens, every frame or line of dialogue becomes about finding some easter egg or hint that "proves" these people should start dating. Their dynamic is absolutely a fundamental part of this show, but if you can only see it as a will-they-won't-they, you miss so much of what the story is actually trying to say with these two.

There are good versions of this story where their relationship is romantic and there are good versions of this story where it isn't, but as soon as you decide them being together is "the point," you lose the ability to actually judge the story for what it is, not what you want it to be.

[glassrunner]

man the past few weeks sucks in terms of the sheer disappointment that comes from highly-anticipated media revealing itself to be shallow and poorly-written :/

[katyspersonal]

.

[plounce]

my emoooootional issues and my physical iiiintimacy issuuuues

[navree]

unfortunately i do think this was kind of a weak season finale, there's a lot of stuff from overarching story arcs throughout the season that feel really unresolved (not in a 'this story is gonna keep on going' way, just a straight up 'we're not addressing this any longer' kind of way).

like, have sam and lois talked? she has a lot of abandonment issues and the last time they interacted he abandoned her and it sent her spiraling, have they communicated about this? why did waller go on the run? did checkmate turn against her? why are slade and lex apparently on the same side now? they hated each other and slade should be thrilled lex's metallos failed, why are they suddenly apparently pals? do they even still work for the government? clark and lois's "break up" and the issues involved in it on both clark and lois's side hasn't ever actually been addressed and it needs to be, are we ever gonna see that? where tf are clark's little shorts????? are they gone forever?????

combining that with the fact that this episode feels really padded (given that there was just this constant circular 'they're up they're down they're up they're down' for like 90% of the fight with brainiac), i do really feel like the story would have been better served if they cut the padding, resolved the brainiac invasion at the end of ep 9, and devoted ep 10 to addressing these myriad loose ends in a tight enough way that the season doesn't feel incomplete but still leaving doors open for season 3. because some of the loose ends are fine, 'oh we don't know what happened to hank henshaw', that's just a good teaser for whenever he shows up next season as metallo, that's a good loose end to have for a season finale. but a lot of these just feel like unresolved plots that aren't getting any resolution ever. sam lane went through an entire character arc and we didn't see any of it and it feels jarring, it feels like a writing fail. which is unfortunate because i really love this show and most of the writing has been very good, especially this season.

so i hope that they're able to be a bit tighter and more cohesive for season 3. and also pay chris parnell a hundred million dollars so he can voice anime slade wilson in every single episode.