#euros and sand

[spotsupstuff]

takin a break from asks a lil with misc. oc stuff + some ideas for iterator cleaner fauna. cuz there just ain't enough of variety in those structures yet n i've been thinkin about cleaning methods of the insides for ages now

[homo-house]

hey uh so I haven't seen anyone talking about this here yet, but

the amazon river, like the biggest river in the fucking world, in the middle of the amazon fucking rainforest, is currently going through its worst drought since the records began 121 years ago

picture from Folha PE

there's a lot going on but I haven't seen much international buzz around this like there was when the forest was on fire (maybe because it's harder to shift the narrative to blame brazil exclusively as if the rest of the world didn't have fault in this) so I wanted to bring this to tumblr's attention

I don't know too many details as I live in the other side of the country and we are suffering from the exact opposite (at least three cyclones this year, honestly have stopped counting - it's unusual for us to get hit by even one - floods, landslides, we have a death toll, people are losing everything to the water), but like, I as a brazilian have literally never seen pictures of the river like this before. every single city in the amazonas state is in a state of emergency as of november 1st.

pictures by Adriano Liziero (ig: geopanoramas)

we are used to seeing images of rio negro and solimões, the two main amazon river affluents, in all their grandiose and beauty and seeing these pictures is really fucking chilling. some of our news outlets are saying the solimões has turned to a sand desert... can you imagine this watery sight turning into a desert in the span of a year?

while down south we are seeing amounts of rain and hailstorms the likes of which our infrastructure is simply not built to deal with, up north people who have built everything around the river are at a loss of what to do.

the houses there that are built to float are just on the ground, people who depend on fishing for a living have to walk kilometers to find any fish that are still alive at all, the biodiversity there is at risk, and on an economic level it's hard to grasp how people from the northern states are getting by at all - the main means of transport for ANYTHING in that region is via the river water. this will impact the region for months to come. it doesnt make a lot of sense to build a lot of roads bc it's just better to use the waterway system, everything is built around or floats on the river after all. and like, the water level is so incomprehensibly low the boats are just STUCK. people are having a hard time getting from one place to another - keep in mind the widest parts of the river are over 10 km apart!!

this shit is really serious and i am trying not to think about it because we have a different kind of problem to worry about down south but it's really terrifying when I stop to think about it. you already know the climate crisis is real and the effects are beyond preventable now (we're past global warming, get used to calling it "global boiling"). we'll be switching strategies to damage control from now on and like, this is what it's come to.

I don't like to be alarmist but it's hard not to be alarmed. I'm sorry that I can't end this post with very clear intructions on how people overseas can help, there really isn't much to do except hope the water level rises soon, maybe pray if you believe in something. in that regard we just have to keep pressing for change at a global level; local conditions only would not, COULD NOT be causing this - the amazon river is a CONTINENTAL body of water, it spans across multiple countries. so my advice is spread the word, let your representatives know that you're worried and you want change towards sustainability, degrowth and reduced carbon emissions, support your local NGOs, maybe join a cause, I don't know? I recommend reading on ecological and feminist economics though

however, I know you can help the affected riverine families by donating to organizations dedicated to helping the region. keep in mind a single US dollar, pound or euro is worth over 5x more in our currency so anything you donate at all will certainly help those affected.

FAS - Sustainable Amazon Fundation

Idesam - Sustainable Developent and Preservation Institute of Amazonas

Greenpeace Brasil - I know Greenpeace isn't the best but they're one of the few options I can think of that have a bridge to the international world and they are helping directly

There are a lot of other smaller/local NGOs but I'm not sure how you could donate to them from overseas, I'll leave some of them here anyway:

Projeto Gari

Caritás Brasileira

If you know any other organizations please link them, I'll be sure to reblog though my reach isn't a lot

thank you so much for reading this to the end, don't feel obligated to share but please do if you can! even if you just read up to here it means a lot to me that someone out there knows

also as an afterthought, I wanted to expand on why I think this hasn't made big news yet: because unlike the case of the 2020 forest fires, other countries have to hold themselves accountable when looking at this situation. while in 2020 it was easier to pretend the fires were all our fault and people were talking about taking the amazon away from us like they wouldn't do much worse. global superpowers have no more forests to speak of so I guess they've been eyeing what latin america still has. so like this bit of the post is just to say if you're thinking of saying anything of the sort, maybe think of what your own country has done to contribute to this instead of blaming brazil exclusively and saying the amazon should be protected by force or whatever

[jasper-rolls]

Song: Sands of Time 2020 Artist: T.Stebbins Composer: Sugano Album: EURO BREAK -NON-STOP REVOLUTION MIX- Circle: dot shock.

[krypticcafe]

Can please get fic where young reader almost gets r-word.. like! What happened to ellie on 'the last of us' like make it into that situation, reader kills the rapist and flees away and runs into the 141 team, and their like in this state of like panic, but they calm them down and they explain what happened they are beyond livid so they just reck hell on the people who was with the man who tried to r-word reader.

(this a platonic relationship between reader and the team)

Me and the Devil

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic 141 x gn!reader

warning(s): no use of y/n, dead dove do not eat, non-explicit attempted r*pe, emotional and physical trauma, sexual physical and mental violence, canon-typical graphic violence, comfort

wordcount: ~3.8k

a/n: i'm not exactly sure what anon meant by young, but for context, reader is probably 20-22, I'm just not comfortable writing this kinda stuff for teen or child reader, I hope you don't mind. also, huge, HUGE emphasis on the warnings. though nothing is explicit and there are no sexual graphic terms, the descriptions and actions alone are still very disturbing and uncomfortable! and the violence is a little uncomfy for those not used to it, too. title is from 'Me and the Devil' - Soap&Skin

synopsis: You can see it. The devil. It laughs, and laughs, and laughs, mocks you for your childish stupidity and naivete. To think the angels would come marching in, that you'd make it out with any semblance of sanity. You can't fight it, you can't even hide from it. All you can do is lie in your grave.

Just hours ago, you were alongside the 141, cleaning up and wiping out an enemy base, a typical Tuesday on a summer afternoon. You should've known things would go downhill with how smoothly it was all going. Even Price commented on it with an air of wariness and suspicion. After all, it was a saying that if the fight starts getting too easy, then it's an ambush. And an ambush it was. You want to tell yourself that it was nothing, easy as pie compared to what you've been through. You wanted to say that it was a success and you turned the tables on your enemies. You wanted to say that it ended within a matter of minutes and that you were on your way back to base with your boys, ready for a night of banter at the pub. You'd join Ghost in watching Soap and Gaz try their hand at poker, taking a shot each time Soap's dogshit luck lost him another couple of euros while Price would pry Roach from having another cocktail and piss himself ('it was one time!' he slurs).

But instead, you're here. Locked in a room, bag over your head, tied to a chair, a stereotypical hostage situation but that didn't make it any less tolerable. Though having a potato sack over your head was nowhere near as embarrassing as the reason why you were captured. You tried your best to hold onto the jeep, honestly, you did. Until some ankle-biter decided to latch onto you and sink his teeth into your flesh, causing your grip to loosen and send you tumbling into the dirt. Your bodies slammed into the ground, kicking up dust and your opponent taking most of the fall damage for you. How thoughtful.

Seething at the audacity he had to chomp on your leg like some feral mutt, you gave him a piece of your mind and made sure he'd never bite another ankle again. His friends caught up the moment you were done. They dragged you back down to the coarse dirt and sand of the earth, making you taste and choke on dust. You looked at the lifeless figure in the sand, briefly wondering if you'd be wishing you were him before a bag was slipped over your head and tied like a collar. It didn't help that the sand on the roof of your mouth combined with your ineffective attempts to ration your breathing made for a burn worse than any hard liquor down your throat. Thrashing and shouting like a madman, you cursed them like some teenager who discovered swearing as they tossed you into the back of a truck, rolling you forth with the heels of their boots. Not your finest moment.

Once you were loaded and the rest of them climbed on, the truck shot forward without slowing down for a second, taking you to your own personal hell for the next few days. Knowing the 141, they were probably at the safehouse, planning their next move to retrieve you. In the time between interrogations and routine attempts to break you, you could imagine Soap and Roach pacing around the room, Ghost brandishing a knife with a dark look in his eyes, and Price looming over a map and pulling up contacts with Gaz at his side. While you hated to burden them with your own mistakes, thinking about them all gnawing their teeth in comical anger at your expense brought you momentary comfort, eliciting a small chuckle.

"Something funny?" Much to your ire, all your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of several people shuffling into the room. You could only expect so much privacy in a place like this. The man who spoke up seemed to carry himself like a leader, considering how he spoke above all others and you could hear him carrying out demands every now and then, checking up on you as if he actually gave a shit. And currently, he was on the top of your "to kill" list, along with every other cunt in this prison.

"What'll it be today, more screaming or more silence? You know, you can only stay quiet for so long." He sighed. Judging by the sound of metal screeching on concrete, he pulled up a front-row seat. With a single yank, you were again temporarily freed of the confines of the bag on your face, glaring at the man with a look of ferocity that seemed as if it were etched on your face permanently. His clothes were disturbingly clean-cut and polished despite the blood he spilled for the past few days. Your blood he spilled. "Come now... you know you'll only make things more difficult. Face it, kid, they're not coming, it's been days."

When you felt gloved fingers touch your jaw you snapped, pulling away like an animal restrained by a leash. Your captor let out a taunting "Oooh", and your skin crawled at how he heckled and laughed like some adolescent boy poking a rabid animal with a stick through its cage. "So it bites."

"Fuck you." You rasped.

"And it talks." The humiliation of their nonchalant attitudes made you seethe, you knew it was a tactic to get under your skin and you just wouldn't have it, turning your head away from the men.

"Uh-uh, eyes on me. How is such a fresh thing like you out fighting wars with men like them?" He hummed, gripping your jaw with a strength that took you by surprise and had you wincing. Even though his hands were gloved, it felt as if he were trying to dig into your skin. With no other choice, you were forced to look into his eyes, the pyres of unimaginable anger burning in yours.

However, it was then that you felt it. Something was off. Something was horribly off about him. The several times he'd come in here to either coax you with gentle words or have his men beat you within an inch of your life, he either had some faux kindness or gleeful malice painted across his face. But this time, his eyes were alight with slimy delight. You hated it, Hated how it made you feel small, cornered, pulling on your leash so that you couldn't be yanked from the one place that made you feel safe. You hated how it didn't feel like he was trying to get under your skin, or sink into your bones but instead your mind as if to violate it. You hated how it seemed like he had something more in mind, something that you couldn't predict like a kick to the ribs or a carefully worded reassurance that you'd be in "good hands". It was the one thing you felt like you had control over, knowing what was next, and now you didn't.

With a wave of his hand, his men all filed out of the room, leaving just him and you alone. One came back with a bowl in their hands and you felt yourself doubt your worries. Were you already beginning to lose it in here? "Hungry?" He smiled, taking the bowl and dismissing the soldier. It looked and smelled like a stew, potatoes, and beef, not scraps of stale bread or lukewarm, half-empty beer cans.

"I asked them to make something special today for you, isn't that nice? I suppose even someone like you has a taste for the finer things in life and wouldn't say yes to leftovers." No answer came but it was to be expected as he mixed the stew with a spoon. Your eyes were trained on his face instead, expecting some kind of strings attached. He entertained that expectation by—to your disgust—spitting into the stew, mixing it more, and bringing up a spoonful to your face. "Consider that the cost of being so picky. Open wide, soldier. Surely you won't make a fuss again, now will you?"

There was a pause, you leaned forward, lips ghosting the tip of the spoon before you roughly shoved his chair away from you with your boot. The bowl fell from his hands onto the ground, pooling between the two of you. He could go to hell with his stupid fucking soup.

He let out a scowl of disapproval, his self-satisfied smirk replaced with disgust and irritation like a parent to their troublemaking child. Fine with you, you didn't need that asshole's approval. He stood, grabbing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his hands and the small splatters on his uniform. "Should've known better that the government's pets would act like such animals. I gave you a chance, I tried to make this easy for you." He snarled, tossing his handkerchief aside and grabbing you by the collar, "But no, you just had to be a fucking brat, huh? Fine, be one. I can work with that. Either way, you'll be put in your place soon enough."

Before you could comprehend what he was implying, he slashed the ropes that binded you to your chair with a combat knife and shoved you to the floor, your head throbbing as it hit concrete, along with the rest of your aching muscles. Vision blurred, you sat up and tried to make out what he was doing, falling back when he roughly grabbed your hair and shoved your head back down into the ground. Like an alarm, every single flight or fight response went off in your body and yet you couldn't figure out what he was trying, you just knew that this was something worse and that you were a fool to let your guard down for a single second.

A twisted smile broke across his lips, "You know, you have a very lovely voice. You sing the loveliest songs."

Your brows furrowed, confusion flashing across your face until you let out a yelp of pain when he pressed into your stomach, already bruised from previous matters. He let out a sigh that made you shudder and you felt bile creep up your throat, moving your face to the side in fear that you'd choke on it.

"Eyes. On. Me." He snapped, his voice sounding so much louder than it actually was, his hand twisting your jaw back to look up at him while his fingers proceeded to dig themselves into whatever spots got you hissing and squirming away. That's all it took for your resolve to break, the blaze in your eyes fizzling out and replace with genuine fear and utter shock as you watched him straddle you and stare with a piercing gaze that trapped you. It forced your attention to stay on him, daring you to look anywhere else but him when that was all you could focus on. Him.

You couldn't even scream, paralyzed when you heard the sound of metal clinking against metal and the brushing of fabric, raw horror setting itself alight in your bones at how he loomed over you. At that moment, you swore you could see the devil itself laughing, cackling, mocking you in his eyes.

It was like you were seven again.

Scared, cornered in your room because you swore, you swore and sobbed and cried that you saw it, a monster in your closet. A dark, shadowy figure that'd taunt you merely with its existence and prayed on your downfall, drinking the fat tears you spilled and listening to your high-pitched cries as if they were music, eyes that you couldn't see but they could see you.

Others tried to convince you that it wasn't real, opened the doors, and closed them again, showing that there was nothing but cleanly folded clothes and hung-up jackets lined neatly along a rack. Every time, you'd feel a little more silly about your fears but anxious that they'd come back for more.

At some point, you nearly forgot about the monster altogether. It ceased to exist in your closet, but never your mind.

"Damn it, what now?!"

Pulled back into the present, you heard muffled speech with loud, obtrusive noises and more screaming and cursing from the man above you. He was faced with the still-closed door, talking to a soldier behind it. Instead of trying to catch up with what happened, your mind raced to its defensive instincts. Finding the spoon dropped from earlier, you reached for it with a strained grunt which caught his attention. Yet with a swift grab and thrust of your hand, you jammed the blunt handle of the spoon into his throat and screamed at him, your vocal cords ripping in deliriously satisfying pain.

Barely giving him a second to let out a final gasp for air, you flipped him over underneath you and yanked the spoon out, blood erupting out of the gash. Fire ignited in your veins and you balled your fists, giving him a taste of the rage of a caged beast with nothing left to lose, just the desperation to survive for more. It was a symphony of grotesque crunches of bone and ligament, and you yelled, screamed, and cursed with each impact at him, at the entire organization, at a godless world for making you live through hell. A pitiful yet gruesomely satisfying attempt to reclaim what sanity and control you lost in that room.

Blood and flesh coated your fingers like warm syrup, and you were sure your knuckles were split. Crimson red was a good look on a sterile uniform, you thought to yourself. The sight of your work made you realize it wasn't the devil in his eyes was laughing at you, but rather its reflection from over your shoulder, still gleefully singing and squealing with delight as it watched you indulge in pure, unadulterated wrath. Its tail wrapped around your neck, strangling you with delirium and bloodthirst, guiding you in your ear as you beat an already dead man to a pulp.

Taking a stand, its whispers remained in your ear, praising you and yet you felt sick looking at what was left of what you had done, of what was left of the man's face. His blood pooled around his shoulders, mixing with the stew into an unholy concoction, evidence that was a testimony to your suffering and to your sin. Using his combat knife, you cut through the ropes around your wrists, skin scratched raw and bleeding. Without a second glance, you took his gun and left the room.

To this day, you tell yourself that you crawled out of hell that day.

"Any signs of the hostage?" Gaz shouted over comms, holding off a room of enemies alongside Price.

The moment they had all seen your fingers slip from the jeep and saw you tumble away that afternoon was the moment they knew they wouldn't be coming back to base for a long time. Roach had watched in despair as he was so damn close to grabbing your hand, swearing that had he'd been a little quicker, you wouldn't be here. Soap had yelled for Price to go back but Gaz and Ghost both knew his hand wasn't going to turn that wheel anytime soon. All of them knew. They couldn't turn back, and you wouldn't have wanted them to either, not unless the entire team and mission were to be jeopardized. However, that didn't stop them from doing whatever it takes to get you back safe again.

"Negative." Ghost answered over the line, standing with Soap in a hallway painted with the blood of the opposition, bodies scattered like lifeless bags of flesh with no greater purpose than to rot.

"I have eyes on them, they escaped from captivity. Currently pursuing them!" Roach responded. He'd seen your figure run down a hall at an alarming speed, and when he followed you, he had a glimpse of the room and the spectacle you left behind, "The leader is terminated, too. Jesus, can someone get over here?! They're gunning it for the west exit and I can barely keep up!"

You were in fact, bolting for the exits, panicking the more you got lost and running so fast that you probably could've broken a record on base. Distant gunfire and blasts snapped at your heels like a pack of dogs, reminding you that if you didn't keep running, you'd be dead, you'd be torn apart and beaten just like their leader and fed to the wolves. Boots trampled the ground behind you like drums of death, the yelling of men ringing in your ears, a requiem to the inevitable. Run, just run, it's all you could do in this frenzied state. If you didn't you'd be helpless, you'd be put down like a rabid fucking animal. Run, even if your bones shook from the pain, even if flames licked at your torn muscles, even if it meant dying of exhaustion because anything was better than dying at the hands of those animals.

At last, you found the light of an exit, finally an escape from this asylum. Your heart felt lighter when sunlight kissed your skin only to be weighed down by getting slammed into, grabbed into a relentless hold. You screeched, shrieked, snapped, and sneered while the voices seemed relieved, almost happy at your capture.

"Don't fucking touch me-!" You screamed with animosity, practically frothing at the mouth, "Don't fucking touch me I'll fucking kill you! I'll fucking—"

"Friendly, friendly!"

Still growling under your breath, confusion flickered over your eyes. Why did it sound like... like...

"Captain?"

"You're safe kid," Price panted, as if he'd been running to chase you. He was chasing you. In all your hysteria, you hadn't realized that the group had been running after you for past minute or so, trying to call for you, get you to slow down. The only thing that worked was to just grab to and hopefully knock some sense into you or knock you out. "It's just us, see?"

Your gaze softened, taking in the features of the man before you. Despite the crossfire and fighting, somehow he still had such a kind look on him, puppy eyes that pitied you and kept you grounded. Turning your head, you saw the rest of the men watching you in concern, all tired but overjoyed nonetheless that you were finally back.

You were safe.

It was like a weight finally lifted off your chest, a pile of restrained misery and relief washing over you, and you wept without a thought to pride. Price whispered your name in a way that felt so comfortingly familiar, tucking your head into his shoulder and letting you muffle your sobs into his uniform. It was painful to hear your wails, the relief and the instability shaking off of you in waves. A part of you expected to be scolded, to be teased for messing up so badly with a simple mistake as letting go of the jeep but they didn't.

"You're in good hands,"

"We've got them covered,"

"They can't hurt you anymore, love."

"Do you have any major injuries?" Gaz asked, but you couldn't say a thing, clinging onto Price's jacket and crying like you were four years old and found by your parents after getting lost. Slowly and gently, Price pulled you from him to examine you, and that's when he saw it. It didn't take long for the others to notice as well. Your clothes were torn and belt undone. While no physical harm was visible, knowing what happened was enough to make Price tick.

"Roach, get them to the car and give them some spares ASAP. Everyone else with me, we're cleaning out the place." Everyone else had the same dark look in their eyes, one that sent shivers down your spine but encouraged you once more you were secure now. While Roach escorted you away, you peeked back to see them disappear back into the building. After you changed in the car, you could hear the distant gunfire and screams, shutting your eyes closed tight, making an effort to drown out the thoughts.

"You okay?" Roach frowned. he had apologized to you a dozen times over on your way to the car and explained all that happened after you were taken, which you appreciated him for and insisted it wasn't his fault. But he was sweet and stubborn, bandaging your wounds and telling you he'd make it up by giving you his dessert for the next month, a gesture that made you smile for once in a while.

"Yeah, yeah just... hope they're safe." You breathed, sinking into your seat with the rest of your thoughts. Though you cried once more, quietly this time and on Roach's shoulder. He was cautious not to initiate too much physical contact, holding your hand only when you asked for it.

The building was silent, not a single soul left to be reaped by the 141. They all regrouped around a body that was beaten beyond belief, to the point where the face was unrecognizable. Regardless, they knew who it was.

Gaz broke the silence, "You think they did this?" They all looked at each other, not wanting to imagine what happened to lead to this point.

Ghost nodded, a confirmation of something they already knew but wanted to mutually agree on. "No one else could've made this much of a bloody mess. HQ's going to have a field day with this. Can't say that he didn't have it coming for him, though."

"And well deserved, too." Soap spat. Price continued to look down on the figure on the floor without any thought to it. Not anger, disappointment, or spite, just disregard. Headquarters would be interested to hear what happened, but he could care less about the report. All that mattered was that loose ends were tied.

Minutes later, the men all piled up in the car again, setting for the road back. You woke from your half-asleep state, rubbing your eyes. You were met with a soft smile from Soap, who ruffled your hair. "You alright there, sleepin' beauty?"

Humming in acknowledgment, you nodded and glanced out the window to see the road whizzing by, the building growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Some dingy warehouse. So that was the hellhole you were stuck in for a near week.

"Dinnae think 'bout it too much," He followed your gaze and nudged your boot with his, "When we said they can't hurt ye anymore, we meant it."

"Yeah," You quietly mumbled, leaning back on Roach, who had fallen asleep and leaned on Gaz for support. "Can smell it on you guys."

That got a rumbling laugh out of Soap and even a little headshake from Ghost who sat in the passenger seat. Looking at the rearview mirror, Price was looking right back at you, eyes flickering to the road occasionally, "Get some rest. It'll be a long ride home."

You nodded like a little kid with a mumbled "yessir" and drifted off once more. For the first time in forever, you feel like you can breathe and ground yourself, no punishment, no torture, nothing to haunt in this rare bit of calm. You didn't feel the pain of your sore muscles, you didn't feel that your body was filthy, you didn't feel small and scared, not anymore. Just surrounded by nothing but a familiar feeling of safety and lulled to sleep by the sound of the engine that took you home.

a/n pt.2: had a tough time writing this one but hey, I think I managed! to be honest, though, I'm not super confident about the ending and proofread this while half-asleep, but I'd love to hear some thoughts about it. shoutout to the people who noticed any reoccurring themes.

[flwrkid14]

Training the Bat Way (aka Bruce’s Terrible Parenting 101)

Bruce Wayne, aka the Dark Knight, aka the absolute worst, has this little training exercise that the entire family unanimously despises. He calls it “building resilience” or “preparing for the unexpected.” The rest of the family calls it Bruce’s stupid sleep-deprivation kidnapping game.

Here’s how it works: Bruce waits until you’re at your absolute lowest—after a grueling week of non-stop patrols, minimal sleep, and a near-catastrophic Gotham meltdown. Once you’ve finally collapsed into a dead sleep (and sometimes, after he’s sneakily slipped you a sedative to make sure you stay asleep), he picks you up, sticks you on a plane, and drops you off in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes it’s a remote village in the mountains; sometimes it’s the bustling heart of a city on the other side of the planet. The challenge? Find your way home.

Occasionally, Bruce will leave you with some supplies: a wallet, maybe a burner phone, a little equipment if he’s feeling generous. But more often than not, you’ll wake up with absolutely nothing. No money, no ID, no tools—just the clothes on your back and a pounding headache from whatever the hell Bruce drugged you with.

Some highlights of Bruce’s 'training' include:

• Dick waking up in the middle of Germany with nothing but his expired driver’s license and missing socks (He'd hidden cash in them, so he can only guess Bruce found it).

• Steph regaining consciousness in Iceland with a crumpled €5 euro and zero idea how to exchange it for local currency.

• Damian waking up in the middle of the Sahara Desert. No gear. No money. Nothing but sand and the distant memory of Bruce’s smug face.

• Tim once took over a month to get home from a tiny town in Thailand. By the time he made it back to Gotham, he’d created an entire fake identity, complete with forged documents, an elaborate backstory, and several new international contacts. Bruce called it “impressive.” Tim called it traumatizing.

• Cass, of course, took this completely in stride. Woke up in India, dismantled a shady criminal organization she stumbled across, and then casually returned to Gotham two days later like nothing had happened. When asked how she managed it, she just shrugged.

• Duke waking up in the Grand Canyon with his phone at 1% and a granola bar in his pocket. He got home in less than a day, having hitched a ride, bartered his way onto a train, and charmed a group of tourists into helping him. He also got himself a pet chameleon on the way, somehow.

• Jason refuses to talk about his turn, but based on the suspicious amount of diplomatic immunity he now has in several Eastern European countries, it’s safe to say he didn’t play by Bruce’s rules.

If they’re lucky, Bruce leaves them somewhere within the U.S., in which case the Wayne name might help speed up the process. But outside of the States? Forget it. Flashing a “Wayne” credit card can cause more problems than it solves (That's if they're even lucky enough to have a credit card to flash in the first place).

To the rest of the family, this whole thing is less of a “training exercise” and more of a weird, sadistic game Bruce plays when he thinks they’re getting too soft. And no matter how many times they complain, Bruce insists it’s “for their own good.” Because of course he does.

The thing is, they all do get home. Eventually. And yeah, maybe they come back stronger or sharper or whatever excuse Bruce uses to justify it. But at what cost? (Mostly their sanity and a burning hatred of international airline fees.)

Still, the Bats have learned to adapt. They’ve formed their own set of unspoken rules:

1. Always keep some emergency cash hidden somewhere on your person (And hope Bruce doesn't find it, because he will take it).

2. Never, ever fully trust that glass of water Bruce hands you after patrol.

3. And if you wake up in the middle of nowhere, the first step is simple: curse Bruce Wayne’s name as loudly and creatively as possible. Then get to work.

Because at the end of the day, they will get home. And they’ll probably sucker-punch Bruce the second they do.

[wileys-russo]

Mapi & Ingrid “I was reading that” balcony

m.león & i.engen II sunkissed

you exhaled happily as finally the last cloud seemed to be blown away and the full force of the late afternoon portugal sun bathed you in an alluringly warm glow, stretching out with a small grunt before settling back into the lounger you were laid out on.

"shit." you mumbled, feeling about for your sunglasses but realizing you'd left them inside in your bag, having just gotten back from a day spent at the beach and not bothered to shower or unpack just yet.

having washed your hair the night before you'd opted out of a swim, spending time lazing about in the sun as your girlfriends took a dip in the ocean.

"go away!" you moaned as mapi returned first, laying herself down on your back causing you to wince at the icy cold droplets of seawater which rolled down your tanned, warm and once dry skin.

"you looked hot bebita, cooling you down." the spaniard mumbled, softly kissing your shoulder blade and exhaling, clearly not with any intention of moving off of you as you gave in with a roll of your eyes.

"ingrid!" you moaned in annoyance again as your other girlfriend returned a few moments later, both you and mapi cringing as she wrung out her hair, a steady stream of water raining down on the pair of you in result.

"you are both such children. go bury one another in the sand or something!" you grumbled unhappily, trying to shake mapi off as she sat up, your head resting on your folded arms.

you glanced up at the sound of lips meeting, watching the pair of them exchange a soft kiss as you huffed and returned to your previous position.

"you know mi amor you could get one too if you stopped being such a grump." mapi teased, hands gliding across your skin as she massaged gently at your shoulders which admittedly did feel good.

"m'not a grump, i just wanted to stay dry." you mumbled into your arm feeling ingrid lay down on her own towel beside you, poking at your nose as you cracked one eye open with a glare making her grin.

"well bebita then i'll remember that later when you're wet." mapi leaned down to whisper, kissing your cheek which warmed and flushed red knowing exactly what she meant, the defender getting up off of you and announcing she was going for a walk.

"amor." you groaned feeling the norweigan beside you poke at your nose again. "are you going to give me a kiss or are you going to keep being grumpy?" your girlfriend smiled in amusement as you sighed heavily and opened your eyes properly, corner of your own lips turning upward at the sight of her.

"i'll give you a kiss and then go back to being grumpy."

now finally back at the villa and your girlfriends eagerly racing off for showers to wash the salt water off their skin you'd settled on the balcony to soak up the dying rays of the late afternoon sun.

"have to do." you sighed, grabbing your book where you'd discarded it earlier this morning and opening it, laying it down across your face and sighing in relief as the rays were finally blocked out.

though of course your peace didn't last all that long.

"i was reading that." you sighed as the book was lifted off your face, wincing a little as you opened your eyes and were hit directly with a beam of sun, the sun a soft shade of orange as it hovered just on the horizon, half tucked into bed for the evening.

"no you weren't." ingrid chuckled smacking you on the leg with the book and tossing it onto the coffee table, gesturing for you to sit up.

you did so with an over exaggerated groan, earning you a tug on the ear as your girlfriend moved to pull the lounger up into a chair position and sat behind you, grabbing the other sun lounger and pulling it closer, setting her laptop down and flipping it open.

"the euros?" you asked with a stretch, ingrid nodding and kissing your neck softly as she leaned forward, chin resting on your shoulder as her arms circled around you to type away at the keyboard searching for a stream.

"you smell nice." you inhaled the scent of her bodywash with a smile, ingrid tapping the volume up a few notches before laying back a bit more, your body pulled into hers as you pushed your head back.

"oh now you want a kiss?" ingrid teased at your puckered lips, but bending down to press her own against them as you exhaled happily into her mouth.

you broke apart at the sound of the back door sliding open, your other girlfriend stepping out and scraping her damp hair up into a bun. "shuffle." the spaniard shooed her hands as both you and ingrid moved over enough to allow her some space to lay down on her side next to you.

her leg hooked over ingrids as all of your limbs entangled together and you stretched your neck back to kiss the defender a few times.

"mood improved then mi amor?" she teased running a hand through your hair as you hummed, head settled back against ingrids stomach, the norwegian mumbling things under her breath in her native tongue as her gaze was fixed on the game on the laptop in front of her.

your attention was ordered back to the dirty blonde pressed into your side as her rough calloused palm brushed your cheek, her thumb tugging down your bottom lip as hers curled into a wicked smile, other hand toying with the waistband of your shorts.

"so bebita...still determined to stay dry?"

[diediegamchicothdie]

First thank u @queenoftheundergroundscene for the Varg's cringe love letter

Now

Who is Lullaby Oliveira and why varg hates Brazil???? (Beside he's racist)

Lullaby is a black metal musician and artist from Brazil who highlights the sexual element on black metal (she writes stories about fuck with demons), and she the front girl of underground band Lullaby which had the peak of popularity on 90's.

How did she meet Varg? We don't know, she probably met Euro (he liked to talk with everyone in metal's world because he was a 🦜🦜) first and then she "spoke" with Varg, and I said "spoke" because she never answered, probably she died in cringe, my girl was talking about fuck demons and he introduced to her with "Southron" lol.

So, I just did this post to show this meme

(Instagram: meijemsimplol recuerden que soy una presa política por meta)

Maybe Faust cannot take revenge for his best friend murder, but at least he can get married with a Brazilian baddie!!!!!

And remember:

Southron Lullaby!

This is the manifest of male magic, this is the lidless eye, Count Grishnackh of no colors. Your letter was very interesting.

It was not long nor informative.... But it gave me a feeling of wonder. After reading it I thought of women of secret shadow.

As if beauty was their voice.....Calling for males to follow them into the shadows of the woods where evil lurks,

evil creatures and spirits who no one dare belive in. Among theese creatures....the nymph...the woman! I got this feeling that you

where sutch a "woman" tempting me to follow you. Write "Count I'm in the fell ... follow me ... "Lullaby" I think most males would

blindly follow you....without thinking about where you would take them. Mayby that is your goal? Mayby I should belive you when you

say you are Lucifer's? I recognized myself a lot. I enjoy to capture the love of females...It strengthen me. Also I drink virgin blood

whenever I can. And of course steal the virigin of many young beautiful, innocent, kind, unknowing girls. By playing music I geta lot of

worshipp! People worshipp time, feelings, etc. to me by listening to my music! So my power increase. I know that! Now I can do mostly

what I want to do... I can not cast lightning from my hands or sutch feary stuff. But acts to make people cry without

reason, make girls fall in love, or to sense others powers and feelings. Things like that. I think you have some cunning plans not

only beauty. You will never get my soul. I collect souls myself. I'm not to be collected. I have no love or good feelings.

I exist purely to get power. Power that will give me a place in the dark land where shadows lie. Where I will serve the dark lord.

Spread my lidless eye.

your "tempting" words...

PS I'll gladly have more pics.

Count Grishnackh.

Pd: he said "plz sand bobs and vagene" in Norsk

[dykeknightrises]

FALLING

A/N: Sooo, I never actually wrote anything like this, but this one pretty much wrote itself randomly in my brain and I kinda liked it! So I appreciate any feedback I can get and I really hope you guys enjoy it :)

(Also english is not my first language. I did check it but something may not be quite right )

Next parts: Part 2 - PROMISES Part 3 - US

She smelled like the sun. Whether this is a real thing or not, Y/N didn’t care. Right now, buried under and completely surrounded by her, Y/N would vow on whatever entity really existed that Alexia smelled like the sun.

It wasn’t always the case. Before, Alexia smelled like comfort, maybe even a little bit like being under the covers, a mug of hot chocolate between her hands while the rain poured outside. Now everything changed. Now she smelled like summer, like the water wetting your feet right on the edge on the sand on a hot day spent on the beach.

The in-between of then and now, and even the before that, if Y/N was being honest, was a rollercoaster of joy, happiness, heartbreak, and sadness. Falling for Alexia was far too easy and almost a habit for her, she had been doing that for years now.

Y/N first fell in awe of Alexia when she watched her play her first u-17 Euros, back in 2010, when she was just fifteen. Even when the Young Lionesses didn’t go very far, Y/N managed to convince her parents that they absolutely had to stay for the whole tournament. 

Alexia was still a wide-eyed teenager, shy to give interviews and speak up, but so confident and skilled in the pitch that Y/N could not helped but to feel in absolute awe. It wasn’t even a question that the midfielder would be a great player and it wasn’t even a question that Y/N would start to keep up with her career the best she could, she would even use the poor excuse that the shared their position when her friends bugged her too much about it.

Y/N first feel in admiration with Alexia when she played against her during the 2012 u-19 Euros. Despite being only fifteen, Y/N was called up when someone got injured and even made the line-up for the game against Spain.

Ninety brutal minutes later that resulted in England being eliminated, Alexia made sure to speak and praise every single one of her opponents. That was the first time they ever spoke. Y/N wasn’t even sure if Alexia remembered that, but the praise the older girl gave her and the sheer amount of respect she was given made her admire Alexia as a player on a whole new level.

The “See you in a Champions League game.” that the older girl said goodbye with echoed in her head for years, until the moment she signed with Arsenal as her first professional contract a couple of years later. Y/N really hoped to play against Alexia again.

Y/N first fell in respect with Alexia in Budapest, during the Champions League final in 2019. Despite the overwhelming loss from the start, she watched as Alexia gave her blood on the pitch. One of the most agonizing games Y/N had ever watched, being able to even taste the desperation while surrounded by thousands of culés ins the stands.

She watched the absolute heartbreak the team faced, the broken stares as they watched Lyon lift the Champions League cup again. She watched as the twenty-five years old fourth captain picked her teammates up, reassured them and listened to them. She watched the midfield swallow her own despair and angst to take care of her teammates, as a captain and leader would. Y/N could help but to respect the Catalonian as player, as person. Not everybody can do that.

Y/N first fell in fondness with Alexia when she was the first to make her feel at home in Barcelona. Leaving Arsenal and home behind was terrifying, even if Lucy and Keira were in Barcelona too. It’s a new city, a new culture, a new language, new teammates, and a new sense of self.

Arriving and settling in Barcelona was easy, but fitting in and becoming a part of the team was much harder. Spending so many countless evenings and night trying to learn the language that Y/N began to neglect herself a little bit seemed like a small price to pay to be in the team. It wasn’t until Alexia herself asked to speak to you, realizing that you were unconsciously closing yourself off until you were “ready” that you realized what you were doing. Upon seeing the realization in your eyes and knowing that her mission was complete, the older woman slipped a bar of your favourite chocolate over and left with a squeeze on your shoulder.

After that, it wasn’t long until you were a part of the very chaotic Barcelona family. By the time that the Winter Break arrived, the team had settled in a very nice post-practice routine. On Mondays, the guiris got together, helping each other fit with the country. Tuesdays and Wednesdays the whole team holed up at someone’s house, usually Irene’s, and just bonded, going from watching trashy movies to destroying each other on board games. When there were no games on the weekend, the Fridays were for going out on a very non-wild night, just to eat out and spend more time with each other.

Thursdays were sacred. You and Alexia got together, spending the whole time watching old matches, nitpicking plays and dissecting games from opponents or your favourite players. The night usually ending with you cooking, her cleaning and crashing at the bed after taking Nala for her night walk.

Y/N first fell in love with Alexia after the Winter Break, when Alexia was opening the gift, she brought from England. It was a grand thing, but the older woman’s eyes shone so brightly when the Christmas tree’s light sparked that Y/N was sure her heart skipped a beat.

Being in love with Alexia was easy. Between the team’s bonding and their own, all their weekdays were spent together, and Alexia usually dragged Y/N over for lunch with the rest of the Putellas family, where she fit right in. Her days were filled with Alexia’s presence and her nights were filled with dreams of her.

Y/N never entertained the thought of Alexia loving her back. Not she was an asshole or anything, but Alexia was different. Keeping her feelings to herself, not even telling her best friends came naturally, as she knew they would encourage her to try something, but that is just because they didn’t see Alexia like she did.

Friendships with Spaniards were very confusing at first. They were very touchy and very feely and, at first, it made Y/N a bit uneasy to be able the differ when they were hitting on each other and when they were just being friends. She finally settled in taking everything as a friendship moment if she wasn’t told otherwise and left at that.

On a Thursday, instead of watching a game like their usual, Alexia wanted to go dancing. They got ready at arrived at the Sala Apollo when it was already packed, heading to the bar, and having a couple of drinks before the older woman dragged them both to the dance floor. The closeness and intimacy of dancing with each other came easily for them. Letting the heavy bass of reggaeton guide their moves and being pressed together was almost as natural as cuddling on the couch after a movie.

It wasn’t until Alexia’s hands began to wonder that Y/N though better about the whole night. When the older woman’s lips found a spot on her neck and her hands found their place on her hips after squeezing her ass, Y/N was gone. Turning around and kissing Alexia, they were locked in a much wilder dance at that point. Not staying too long after that was natural, as it was sharing a bed of a whole different manner.

Y/N first fell in heartbreak with Alexia when she called their night a mistake. Waking up the next day, surrounded of filled with the midfielder, Y/N smiled and lost herself on the skin of Alexia’s back being hit by sun. Having coffee turned sour on her mouth after Alexia’s words and feeling has heart break on her chest was hard enough, but she could let the older woman know the damage her words had done, she loved her too much for that.

Leaving Alexia’s house that day was one of the easiest and hardest things Y/N had ever done. It was easy because she desperately needed to leave, she needed to let the tears stream down her cheeks away from the other woman’s praying gaze. It was hard because it closed the door on any possibility of the words being a mistake themselves. After promising Alexia, and lying through her teeth, that everything was okay, Y/N left.

People say grieve has five stages. Y/N was no expert, but she was pretty sure that whoever was supposed to go through them was the person grieving, so she didn’t quite understand Alexia’s sudden avoidance. The captain found new teammates to do all the training exercises together, spoke to her only when necessary and cancelled all Their Thursdays for the past few weeks.

A part of her told herself that maybe Alexia felt guilty, maybe she wanted to take the word Mistake back. That part was very strong, it was pulsating, it gave her hope. That part told her to not give up and just give her part.

Y/N arrived just in time on the locker room to overhear Alexia answering a question about a date. Her latest one. On a Thursday. She couldn’t pay a lot of attention to the midfielder answer without had eyes tearing up, so she tried to block the conversation as much as she could, and it was going pretty damn well until she lied to her teeth once again when someone asked if she didn’t mind that the dates where always on a Thursday.

The called up to represent the Lionesses came as a blessing, giving her a break from the club. It was much easier to be her usual self, joke around with her teammates and going on a full-blown prank war against Georgia when she could pretend Alexia didn’t exist. It was also much easing swallowing down her hopes and downloading Tinder when she was sure Alexia would not pop-up on her screen.

Swiping left on all the women that the app showed her was unconscious. Y/N didn’t even realize she was doing that until Leah caught her with the app opened and started to swipe with her. When the captain asked for the billionth time what was wrong with the last woman, the only answer she had to give was that none of them were her. That prompted her to tell her best friend everything. After convincing Leah to not do something stupid, the captain just told you not to worry and that she would find you the perfect date.

 With the time with the national team up, Y/N flew back to Barcelona, smiling as the she sees the city lighting up against the night sky. She barely has time to settle back before Leah texts her that she found her a great date and saying that they will both fly out for the Champions League match in a couple of weeks.

Between trying to find out more information on Leah’s mysterious friend and the sting that came whenever Alexia promptly ignored her, Y/N days passed slowly. It’s easy to distract herself on the days that are occupied by the team, but Thursdays were the worst. The hurt that came the being subbed out of Alexia’s life was just more prominent on these days and Y/N didn’t quite know what to do about it.

The Champions League finally came and with it, Leah and her friend being in town. The date was going to happen the day before the match and Y/N wasn’t sure whether the anxious feeling she had were for the match or for the date.

Getting ready was almost automatic. A nice short black dress paired up with a light makeup as they would go to dinner at a nice restaurant that Y/N absolutely loved. Waiting for the time to go out, she turned the TV on started watching and old match, absently minded remembering that it was a Thursday. Not that any of that mattered anymore.

The doorbell rang just as Ronaldinho scored a goal, making her tear her eyes away from the game. Y/N walk to the door in confusion, not expecting anyone today. The team was doing their own Thursday thing and Leah was out with Lucy and Keira, leaving literally no one to be at her doorstep at almost eight.

Hazel eyes greeted her upon opening the door. Alexia stood in front of her, in her comfiest hoodie and sweatpants, the beanie tucked in her head, cheeks rosy from the wind. Her gaze, holding hope and a thousand secrets, wandered through you figure, before settling back in your own eyes.

“I was hoping we could have our usual Thursday? I have a lot that I need to say to you.”

[whencyclopedia]

Arapaho

The Arapaho are a North American Native nation originally from the Red River Valley in modern-day Manitoba, Canada, and Minnesota, USA. They migrated south in the early 18th century and established themselves in modern-day Colorado, Montana, Nebraska, Wyoming, and points south. They are associated with the Plains Indians culture and have long been allies of the Cheyenne.

The Arapaho adopted an agrarian lifestyle early, which was then modified when they were introduced to the horse by French traders. Able to travel further on hunts now, they gradually became a nomadic people and, pressured by the Ojibwe expansion in the Great Lakes region, moved south. Scholar Adele Nozedar writes:

When the settlers first came upon them, the Arapaho were already expert horsemen and buffalo hunters. Their territory was originally what has become northern Minnesota, but the Arapaho relocated to the eastern Plains areas of Colorado and Wyoming at about the same time as the Cheyenne; because of this, the two people became associated and are also federally recognized as the Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribes.

(25)

The Arapaho speak the Arapaho language (part of the Algonquian language group) and continue to practice their traditional, animistic, religion today as they did in the past, although many now blend the ancient spiritual beliefs with Christian rites and rituals. They were among the Plains Indians who participated in the Sun Dance (which they referred to as the Offerings Lodge) in the 19th century and still observe the ritual today at the Northern Arapaho Reservation of Wind River in Wyoming.

Like other nations of the Great Plains, and elsewhere, the Arapaho clashed with the Euro-American settlers migrating west in the mid-19th century. Allied with the Cheyenne and Sioux, Arapaho warriors took part in the Colorado War (1864-1865), Red Cloud's War (1866-1868), and the Great Sioux War (1876-1877), among other conflicts. The Southern Arapaho were camped with the Southern Cheyenne under Chief Black Kettle (l. c. 1803-1868) when they were attacked by US cavalry in what is now known as the Sand Creek Massacre (29 November 1864), which only strengthened their resolve to defend their ancestral lands against invasion by White settlers from the United States.

Even so, by 1868, both the Northern and Southern Arapaho understood the futility of continuing the fight against overwhelming forces and agreed to move onto reservations (which is one of the reasons so few Arapaho were present at the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876). The Southern Arapaho were relocated to Indian Territory (modern-day Oklahoma) while the Northern Arapaho were moved to the reservation of the Shoshone, their traditional enemies, in Wyoming.

Like the Pawnee, the Arapaho were allowed to continue to observe the Ghost Dance, initiated by the Paiute Nation in 1889, after the US government prohibited other nations, notably the Sioux, from doing the same. The songs and rituals that accompany the Ghost Dance enabled the Arapaho to retain much of their culture, and both Northern and Southern Arapaho continue these traditions today.

Name & Nation

The name Arapaho was given to the people by European colonists who mispronounced the name given them by the Crow nation – Alappaho ("Many Tattoos"), which the people then began to apply to themselves. They originally called themselves Hinono'eino ("the people" or "our people"). The Cheyenne referred to them as Hitanwo'iv ("People of the Sky"), but the reason for this is unclear.

In the 18th century, the Arapaho nation consisted of five bands, each with their own dialect of the Algonquin Arapaho language:

Beesowuunenno (Big Lodge People)

Hanahawuuena (Rock People)

Hinanae'inan (Arapaho Proper)

Nawathi'neha (Southern People)

Haa'ninin (White Clay People - better known as Atsina and Gros Ventre)

The Gros Ventre split from the other bands in the early 18th century and were later regarded as inferior by the Arapaho. The Arapaho nation was then defined by the four remaining tribal bands, who separated into the Northern Arapaho and Southern Arapaho with the northern band holding the position of the "mother tribe" responsible for the safekeeping of sacred objects such as the ceremonial flat pipe.

Southern Arapaho Woman's Leggings and Moccasins

Uyvsdi (Public Domain)

Continue reading...

[mohammedsaqallah]

please wait a minute don't leave Look what happened to us tonight😱

This hole is a result of the occupation targeting the door of the house where we are taking shelter in this bitter cold. 🥺

(Note: We are now living in a house that was bombed by the occupation. It is uninhabitable after the occupation forces bombed our house. The picture is attached below.)

After we lived in a safe home filled with warmth and love

Our house has turned into a pile of sand and stones. My father's years of hard work, my whole future and our lives have gone. Now look at how we live.

We have now gone to an abandoned house that was bombed before, meaning it is not suitable for living, after we had a beautiful house with warmth and safety.

These pictures are of the moment our home was bombed, full of safety and reassurance.

Look at our situation and our future, look at the future of our children, even my nephew did not live in peace and was not spared from this war

(This is my nephew before and after the war)

So I speak to all the merciful hearts. I hope from you, my brothers and friends, I hope from you all to donate to me and help me and my family get out of this hell. I hope from everyone to donate and help us to live in peace and build a new future.I hope everyone will donate even if it is as little as 5 euros, it will make a difference in saving us .I hope everyone also shares this post so everyone knows what we are going through 😢

https://gofund.me/77caca00

@killy @turtletoria-art @turtletoria @valtsv @annabelle--cane @enaamnaame @tamamita @taffybunnie @tamarrx @prinnay @prisonhannibal @pcktknife @schooloutfitideas @officialspec2 @t-87 @4ft10tvlandfangirl @heritageposts @pcktknife @ot3 @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @effen-draws @aria-akz @paper-mario-wiki @littol-lie @ankle-beez @jezior0 @komsomolka @appsa @imjustheretotrytohelp @neptunerings @victoriawhimsey @punkitt-is-here @communistkenobi-archive @communistkenobi-archive @vampiricvenus @ankle-beez @autisticmudkip @batmananimated @catnapdreams @tumblintuck @mushroomjar @victormcknight @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog

https://gofund.me/77caca00

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader Summer Fling Part 3/10

+18

Part 1 Part 2

Summary - Reader has landed a research job at a marine biology lab in Portugal. She is, therefore, staying with her sister and her sister's Portuguese boyfriend for the summer holidays. There, she meets Ruben Dias, who is on vacation with his friends after the 2024 Euros. However, the two meet under the circumstances in which Ruben believes that Reader is a prostitute.

Enjoy! ☀️

"He doesn't say much, does he?"

"Who, Diogo?"

You and your sister lay tanning on the beach. It was a bright and hot day in Portugal. Around you lay beautiful tanned women, soaking in the sun, not a care in the world. Diogo had taken you to a private beach club near a resort. No tourists or children in sight.

"Yes, Diogo. He's barely spoken a word to me since I moved in with you."

"It's just the way he is." Your sister waved. "He'll warm up to you soon enough."

There was an ongoing volleyball game on the beach, one that Diogo was refereeing. You watched how the participants, the majority being men, played like their lives depended on it, their muscles glistening with sweat as they spiked the ball back and forth.

"Are you even allowed to kick the ball like that?" You asked, watching a man have his way with the volleyball. Unlike the other players, he never lunged for the low balls. Instead, he tapped the volleyball with his feet, sending it over the net with exceptional precision.

"This is Portugal hun." Your sister pulled her shades down, scoping out the shirtless man and his shirtless friends. "If you can't handle a ball with your feet, you're not Porto—"

You flinched as a volleyball came flying your way, spraying sand in your faces.

"As minhas desculpas, senhoras." (My apologies, ladies.) Said the man responsible for the pebbles in your bra. He was cheesing at the sun as he made his way over.

"Watch it you fucking cunt!" Your sister cried out. The man had to stop and duck as the volleyball came flying back to him with surprising speed. "If you can't play volleyball just fucking say that."

"I'm sorry." He chuckled, eyes shifting your way. It was a moment that made your heart skip a beat as he was fairly handsome. He had dark brown hair and eyes that sparkled in the sun. And his English was surprisingly good as well. "How about I buy the two of you a drink for the trouble?"

"Damn right that you're buying us drinks. All fucking night you're buying us drinks."

"Maki?" You hissed. "Don't be rude."

"What? This man just sprayed us with sand and now...."

"Há aqui um problema?" (Is there a problem here?)

"Diogo, baby!" Your sister shot up to her feat at the sight of her boyfriend. She clung to his arm like a child lost in a grocery store. "This guy just threw a volleyball at us."

Diogo shot an eye towards the tall man that stood before you. "Sinto muito pelo incómodo, Ruben. Estas meninas estão connosco." (I'm sorry for the trouble, Ruben. These girls are with us.)

You blushed. The man, along with Diogo, turned to look at you. Diogo then leaned towards your sister, whispering something in her ear.

"I'm Ruben, Ruben Dias." The man said, offering you his hand.

"Y/N." You replied and allowed him to help you up and off the sand.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Again, sorry about the volleyball." He jogged off, back to his friends. You were left with your sister and Diogo, the two of them arguing about something.

"....that's not what she came here for."

"Well, she's here now, so do as I say."

"Maki, what's wrong?" You approached her as Diogo returned to the volleyball match.

"Wrong? Nothing is wrong." She sniffled.

"If nothing is wrong, then why are you crying?"

"Please, Y/N, don't be silly."

"Silly? Maki, if Diogo..."

"He's just trying to look after us, that's all."

"Look after us. Why would we need to be—"

"Hey, let's play volleyball."

"W...what?"

The sorrow in her eyes was wiped away, replaced by a fixed smile. "Come on, let's challenge the guys. Just like old times."

She dragged you across the beach towards the volleyball pitch. The guys were clearly seasoned players but eagerly accepted your challenge.

"Let's split up?" They suggested. "It's only fair if we play doubles, girl and boys versus girl and boys."

"Girls?" Maki questioned. "You're playing women. Two aussie women, so you better watch your fucking backs."

"Alright then." They grinned. "Game on."

The game was intense and competitive, with both teams dishing out their best moves. You and Maki held your own against the guys but ultimately lost in a close match. As his friends were leaving the court, Ruben, of all people, approached you.

"Hey, how about two against two?"

"Who, you and me?"

"Yeah, versus your friend and Diogo."

"She actually my sister." You chuckled. "But...sure, why not?"

Maybe they were friends, Ruben and Diogo? Nevertheless, the four of you walked over to the net and started playing again. You were surprised to find that you and Ruben were a formidable team. You communicated seamlessly, anticipating each other's moves and working together to block the ball. In the end, you won your match, a victory worth celebrating.

"Where in Australia are you from?"

The celebrations happened on a yacht. Diogo, of course, knew a guy and urged Ruben and his friends to tag along. The two of you were glued to each other all night, just vibing.

"Sydney!" You shouted in his ear. The music around you was playing that loud.

"Cool. I've always wanted to travel there."

"Don't."

"No? Why not."

"Well, the flight there might kill you."

"Is that so?" He laughed.

"Why are you laughing? I'm dead serious. I'm still jet lag to this day."

"I believe you."

It was dangerous how handsome Ruben was. You withdrewn to a corner somewhere. Where the night breeze caressed the skin of your naked shoulders and where the deck of the yacht could be felt rocking side to side.

"Now that you're here..." Ruben smiled, his face close. "How do you find Portugal?"

"I'll manage." You nodded. "The summers here must be nice?"

"If you know where the party is, yes."

"Well then, Ruben Dias…" His name rolled off your tongue like smooth liquor. "Tell me where the party is?"

"Right here."

It was unlike you to kiss a man you've just met. It was unlike you three years ago up until now. Ruben, however, was a great kisser. He guided you to sit on his lap, caressing your thighs as you held his face. You longed for more of him, his tongue already deep in your throat. It was sloppy. Everything about the kiss was sloppy.

"Let's find a room," Ruben said, his breath in your ear.

You let him guide you through the deck through the party scene where your sister seemed to be the main entertainment. She stood dancing on top of a table, dancing to the cheers of her crowd, Ruben's friends. Diogo, however, was nowhere to be found.

"Did you bring condoms?"

You and Ruben found a room below deck. A big room where the bed was draped in silk sheets. You laid back on the matress, with Ruben crawling to lay on top of you. Kissing you.

"Did you bring condoms?" He repeated.

"No, but it's no worries."

"Are you on the pill or something?" His voice was rough, laced with lust. You slid a hand down his body, stopping at the bulge that was felt through his swimming trunks.

"Fuck,"

Ruben caught your jaw, pulling your lips towards his mouth to deepen your kiss. His hips then grind against you with force, taking your breath away. "Y/N, I need to be inside you right now. Please tell me that you brought condoms?"

"I didn't" You squealed. "I—"

He bit your shoulder, the pain intimidating, yet endearing. He made his way downward, ripping the strings of your bikini with his teeth.

You shivered in your nakedness. The way that Ruben's eyes were staring at your breast raised the hairs on your arms.

"Y/N, please tell me that I can fuck you?"

"You can." You admired his features in the dark. Ruben had a body outlined with muscles. From the back of his shoulder blades to the bumps of his abs. "It's just—" You fingers traced down the bumps, feeling him and how he trembled to have you. "It's the last day of my period, so there might be some…you know."

His eyebrows lifted, along with his lips that parted.

"Or we could just sleep." You said, instantly regretting your offer. Ruben must've been disgusted by you. "I really could use some—"

His mouth crashed into yours, once again taking your breath away. You fell back against the mattress again, with Ruben pulling down the front of his swimming trunks, revealing how hard he was for you.

You wanted to touch him, to please him. However, he seemed in a rush to be inside of you.

"Turn around."

He had you laying flat on your stomach, his lips brushing between your shoulder blades as he thrusted his dick inside of you.

"Fuck." He grunted.

He filled you up. All the way up. You curled your toes as the size of him stretched your walls. However, being on your period helped with some of the friction. It felt surprisingly good, being fucked like this.

Ruben grunted and groaned as his dick repeatedly pushed up your cunt. And when he came he came with a roar into the night, cursing in a language unfamiliar to you.

"Holy shit." Ruben's breath was heavy as his hands searched for you in the dark. The two of you had collapsed on the bed, face down, bodies limb.

"Was it good for you?" He asked, removing the damped hair that covered your face.

"I think so." You chuckled.

He kissed you, wet but soft. "I've never been with a girl when she's on her…you know."

"Oh." You mumbled, quite exhausted to speak. Ruben seemed happy, though, boyishly so. You made a mental note to tell your sister. To her it was the oldest trick in the book, fucking on your period. The thought had disgusted you. Until now.

"Are you tired?" He asked.

Your body was shutting down, your eyelids heavy. Turns out that sex was the way to cure jet lag, not melatonin. Without any afterthought, you fell into a deep slumber, the deepest you've ever experienced. You did so feeling safe despite lying next to a stranger. Ruben would lay next to you for as long as he needed to recover, covering your body with the sheets. But with the sun appearing on the horizon, Ruben left your side in the morning. Completing another day in paradise.

Part 1 Part 2

[yuurei20]

Hey there! Absolutely love all the work you do here, it's really helped me as a newer fan of Twst get a better grasp on the characters and lore, so thanks a lot!!!

I'm not sure if it's ever specified anywhere, but do we know what exactly the name "Twisted Wonderland" encompasses in-universe? Like, is it the name of the whole planet, or a continent, or some other established grouping?

I know we do have a map that shows a lot of the characters homelands, but as far as I recall, it doesn't include the Scalding Sands. Which beyond it being the homeland of Kalim and Jamil, there was also a whole in-game event there that fleshed out the environment and culture, yet do we even know where it would hypothetically be on a map?

I also remember Sam talking about the cultures of the East during the New Years event, so there is presumably more beyond the map we know, but I just don't know if it has ever been clarified? Madol/Thaumarks are also the only currency we've ever seen, which could make it similar to Euro in how a whole continent uses it, or maybe there's something else to it.

Apologies for the long ask, I just found the implications to be fascinating depending on what little info we may have on the matter!

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! ^^ And you are much too kind!! ♡

From comments like “Twisted Wonderland’s got a number of educational institutions for cultivating magicians” and “Twisted Wonderland would be forever enveloped in winter’s cold, harsh embrace,” I do believe that “Twisted Wonderland” is meant to be the name of the entire place to which the prefect has been relocated! 

There are other times, however, where this can sound odd: the entire world (is it a world?) has the same traditional event (Beanfest)? The entire world has the same kind of fire and police organizations? Halloween is one of the biggest events in the entire world? Icicle mushrooms are one of the three greatest delicacies in the entire world? 

It is not impossible, but it is curious! Is it maybe not literally the entire planet, but possibly just a hemisphere?

(But is it a planet at all? Could it possibly be a dimension? 👀 We know that the dorms exist in dimensions of their own--are those pocket dimensions inside the dimension that is Twisted Wonderland?)

Except, as you say, Kalim and Jamil’s home country is not even on the main “world” map and yet it is still considered a part of Twisted Wonderland (as far as I can tell), so we know that “Twisted Wonderland” consists of more than what is being shown to us!

We have never been shown any borders of “this is where Twisted Wonderland ends and where another place begins,” or even heard that any place besides Twisted Wonderland exists here, so with the information we have at the moment I would say that everywhere we have heard of thus far is within the boundaries of Twisted Wonderland—whatever it is that may be 👀 (Limbo?)

Also as you say Sam does manage having eastern branches of his Mystery Shop, but Sam is very mysterious 👀

We technically do not even know if he is a mage (he does not seem to have a visible magestone, unlike the rest of the staff, and being magicless would tie in well to the character upon which he was based), or anything about these Eastern shops! It does not seem like it would be out of character for Sam to have access to inter-dimensional travel and, as aforementioned, his hometown cannot be found on the map 👀

Is Sam like the prefect, moving in between Twst and the world from which the prefect came (and maybe even Japan itself, hence his "Eastern branches")? I am pretty sure that there is nothing in-game to insinuate that this is the case, but it is fun to think ^^

Also as you say, Madol/Thaumarks seem to be a universal currency! I like your comparison to Euro very much!

While things like having the same traditions/currency/events/etc. throughout an entire planet might be a little unrealistic (in this game about dragon princes and mermaids who do parkour ww), it is possible that things were simplified just for the sake of keeping it all manageable within the visual novel medium ^^

My apologies for not having any answers! I do not believe that there is any information missing from what you already know, and while it is all very vague and curious, I agree it is also fun to think about! ^^

[local-loudmouth]

MASTERPOST!

(yeah I copy pasted it from the other acc, don’t sue me)

wassup! Finally, a master post! Am I right?

(TC*ST AND PROSH*PPERS DNI!!)

hi there! I’m Jayah! You can call me jj tho. Or mike! I’m really ok with anything :D

I’m js here to post a bunch of fun art and maybe some animation stuff? And occasionally, fan fiction >:). I am GenderFluid, and I go by all pronouns. And my sexuality is lesbian!

and my lil gay ass miiiiiiight be possibly maybe simping for someone rn..?? (*cough* a literally drawing)

I also have 12 roleplay blogs! @leontheluxuriousone , @wrecking-it-raphie @gayass-blueberry-mugman, @bendy-the-dancing-doofus, @koi-the-cosplay-boy, @improv-master-mikey , @ask-miss-maple-leaf ,@blue-masked-simp , @mikey-the-magnificent , @no-ditches-no-bitches , @candy-for-the-win and @ask-olive-huchers

PLUS: @ask-adi-huchers @candy-for-the-win @neon-of-the-leon (new ROTTMNT leo acc) @ask-miss-maple-leaf @ask-christopher-harrison

my current hyper fixations are: rottmnt, tadc, TBT(trolls: band together/trolls 3), The great north, bobs burgers, the cuphead show, moon girl and devil dinosaur, amphibia, the owl house, tmnt 12, cuphead and mugman in General, KREW, poppy playtime, and a SHIT TON MORE-

btw I swear quite a lot on this, so if that isn’t ur thing, u should click off.

and here’s my sona ref!

DISCLAIMER: please don’t send me werid asks, or gross inappropriate content. I’m a minor.

100 DTIYS!

• FANART!!: •

Leo goober(@ghosty-0w0)

PRINCESS KOI FR (@mikey-rottmnt)

MY BABIES- (@allyheart707)

MY SONS<333 (@mikey-rottmnt)

YOU MADE ME LOOK SO PRETTY RAAHHH (@mikey-rottmnt)

• ROTTMNT FICS!!!: •

The sand.

shopping day! (discontinued)

1 2 3

The 4 servants Au:

Chapter 1 (ongoing)

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10 pt.11 pt.12 (currently on hiatus)

The 4 turtles work peacefully at a competing hotel with the battle nexus, with their beloved father. But one day, everything spirals out of control! And their worlds get flipped upside down! Follow Leo, Donnie, Raph & Mikey on the journey of a life time! And who knows, they might meet some friends along the way, or maybe more…

• DOODLES: •

Pissed off peeps >:[

brace face!!

• FICS: •

Colour theory thingy sorta??

• RANDOM STUFF: •

Leo being a dumb-dumb

• ANSWERED ASKS: •

what do the bros do outside of the hotel??

Mikey needs a hug

does raph break stuff often?

Do the bros like Lou Jitsu movies?

How do they feel about working there?

Time beats a dead man

(Collab au w/ @mikey-rottmnt!!)

Pt.1

A silly cuphead and mugman au Abt uh..a lot of stuff. (Heavily inspired by babtqftim)

• FICS/ INCORRECT QUOTES: •

picky eater

get served! ..or, maybe later..

portals gone wrong!! 1 2 3

Secret admirer<3

…?

the struggles of school

Is it salad?

THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT!!!

• HC’S that are canon in this silly au: •

Mugs

Cups and mugs (cups are not Canon)

How to hug the gang!!

• DRAWINGS: •

Human mugs doodles

chip and Dale!!

Koi and mugs being gay

KOI CANON IN TCHS?!

Rock paper scissors

• some lore: •

mugs lore

Hs! Mugs and euro…

Mug and cup lore

Main crews fav ice cream!!

cup lore (belongs to Ari)

Favourite drinks!

Pipsqueak!

(Coming soon..?)

“Small turtle, and even bigger problems.”

[footballerimaginess]

Euro Celebrations

anything le normand😭😭like celebrating the euros with him can be with smut or not Word Count: 322 Spain were the champions of Euro 2024. "I can't believe you just did that, you won the euros" you ran to Robin as he was standing on the pitch, taking the atmosphere all in.

"Thank you amor, I can't believe it either" Robin cooed as he wrapped his hand gently around your waist. "You make me so so proud" you kissed his neck as you walked around the pitch with him as you could see people moving with the trophy. "Once we have done here and celebrated in Spain, shall we go away somewhere special? we deserve it I believe" he smiled as he grabbed your hand tightly. "Ooh I love that idea, yes I think we well you deserve a holiday" you smiled as Robin wanted a photo with the trophy, so you posed for a few photos. The next few days were a complete whirlwind, you had been celebrating in Spain for most of it, struggling was word to put it because you had so much to drink you were a little worse for wear. Robin had promised you to celebrate winning the euro's, he would book a holiday for wherever you wanted to go. As you had said you had no idea where you wanted to go, you kept the decision up to him. "This place is incredible, I can't believe you have taken me here" you told him as you looked at the clear water and white sand. "It is beautiful isn't it, I felt we deserved a trip. It may be cut short, agent told me Atletico Madrid want me" he sheepishly smiles. "Oh that doesn't matter babe, as long as we have a good time Robi" you smiled as you grabbed his hand as you both walked along the sand. "I feel the luckiest girl in the world being here, with you" you grinned. "I am sure I'm the luckiest person here, not you" Robin smirked.

[ranna-alga]

ATTENTION: Help support Samar and her family! 🇵🇸 @samarsh11

Samar and her husband Hashem are suffering under the genocide's harsh circumstances, particularly following the premature birth of their beautiful baby, Omar, who was born in a tent. No child should be born into such a dire situation, yet that is the case for little Omar and his parents who suffered the destruction of their home and were displaced five times. Furthermore, Samar and Hashem are doing what they can to not only support their baby, but their family too. The following is from Hashem's GoFundMe where he can further explain in his own words on the behalf of his family:

We’re a family of 8 members, me, my mother, and I have 4 brothers and two sisters. Islam (30) years old, Hazem (27), Samer (29), Mohammad (35), Nisreen (37), Noor (36), and for my close family I’m married and I have a newborn baby (Omar). Two of my brothers, Islam and Hazem , had a supermarket that was the source of income for the family. During the war, it was destroyed and we lost our source of income. Me and my wife (Samer) enduring incredibly challenging circumstances. Since October 7th, our home has been destroyed and we’ve been displaced five times, forced by the Israeli army to flee to southern Gaza. Eventually, we found ourselves fleeing to a small tent, sleeping on sand amidst crowded conditions, severe cold, and the sound of explosions. Samar gave birth prematurely in her eighth month of pregnancy, delivering our first child, Omar, in February 2024. Providing Omar with basic necessities like clothing and diapers has been difficult, compounded by the poor quality of available diapers, leading to a skin rash. We never imagined Omar would be born in a tent, which has affected his health due to environmental pollution and severe cold, resulting in hospitalization for respiratory complications and pneumonia, requiring 5 days of intensive care.

Samar and Hashem's beautiful family are in need of support for the plight they face. Evacuation fees are $5,000 per adult and $2,500 per child - meaning that the total amount of money they need to all escape the genocide is $45,000 in total. The family does not deserve to suffer, especially beautiful baby Omar who, like many young Palestinian children, deserves better than the circumstances he has been born and raised into.

HOW YOU CAN HELP:

You can always donate to the family's fundraiser. However, if you cannot send money, then please share! As of writing, Samar and Hashem's family fundraiser has reached 13,755 euros out of a total 45,000 euros. And so far, they have already reached 31% of their goal with steadying donations, but they still very much have a long way to go! Like I said, if you cannot donate, please share! We owe it to Samar and Hashem's beautiful family to be their voices in an unjust struggle that is trying to silence them.

Let's help Samar and her family!