#fuck yourself to hell

[kyunmei]

🦋🔪

[exutrio]

orym and dorian in c3 x 120: "the red end"

[mellorocket]

So "Zenshu" is just "Self-Insert Fanfiction Saves the Day: The Anime" and I am ALL here for it!!

[rock-omelette]

I think it always goes unsaid (thus forgotten) that in order to believe Stobotnik "matches" e/o's freak, as it were, Stone believes much of the same things Robotnik does. You need to understand people like Stone DO believe they're better than you. Worse than that; they're RIGHT.

They're BOTH psychopathic (they relish in the pain and suffering of others, especially those they deem subordinate or below them. Read: everyone.) but where Robotnik's psychopathy dips into narcissism, Stone's psychopathy dips into Machiavellianism. Kindness and empathy--at best, means nothing to him, and at worst, is deemed fucking stupid. He views others in a range of usefulness.

Stone is not a man without emotions, but they are separate, and they are considered bias in the long term achievement of goals. Sure he can ACT empathetic, that's easy. Being charming and acting sweet and kind it's easy. Crucially, to Stone, it is an important and useful manipulation tactic. Personally, I think the only person Stone has ever, and truly could love is Robotnik. On top of everything, Ivo GETS IT. Ivo is the only one Stone believes IS worthy of respect, who can put his money where his mouth is, every time, and does better than you can ever imagine. Ivo IS the pinnacle of success. And to not SEE this, in Stone's eyes, is fucking stupid. He genuinely, sincerely, from the bottom of his fucking heart and soul believes that being unable to SEE how powerful Ivo is STUPIDITY IN THE HIGHEST ORDER.

Emotions are an indulgence for Stone, and thats what his love for Ivo is. To choose and love Ivo--in Stone's eyes--is the one, selfish indulgence he ever lets himself have, regardless of any long term goals. You need to understand that Stone WANTS Ivo, and he fucking GETS what he wants, regardless of Ivo's opinion on the matter btw. This is pillar of Stone's character, to me. Which is why reading fics where Stone is kinder or more compassionate than this doesn't quite scratch the itch that I have about it

[tridentkickflipper123]

mr conceptual

[judaismandsuch]

A bit more political than usual but:

There has been a rash lately of blogs posting anti-Israel stuff in the jewish tags.

Now, I am not going to get into a discussion about whether or not being anti-Israel or antizionist is antisemitic or not, if you care you can look it up yourself.

What I will say is as follows: the 'jumblr' and 'jewblr' tags are used for jews to talk about jewish stuff. It is also used by non-Jews to talk about Jewish stuff on occasion, or for Jews or Jews-in-progress to talk about whatever.

All of which is fine, I am not a gatekeeper of tags.

But what it is not for is for a non-jewish person to use in a post unrelated to Judaism, written in an intentionally inflammatory way, so as to aggravate at least 80% of tumblr Jews.

You have also started to use the 'orthodox' 'Judaism' and 'frumblr' tags, which are (even amongst Jews on tumblr) basically only used to discuss the religion itself.

So I want to be clear: You are being antisemitic.

You are entering a Jewish space and screaming loudly so as to drown out whatever the Jews are trying to say.

It doesn't matter what your screaming, you could be making posts about star wars with no political implications and it would be the same (provided you did it with the same frequency).

I am pretty sure this is all one person, as there have been about 10 new blogs in the last 5 days that follow basically noone, have one non-political post, and then constantly spam politics in the Jewish tags.

And the fact that you have made all these accounts (with seperate emails, as each one has it's own like and following page which doesn't happen with sideblogs), means you know on some level that what you are doing is wrong.

I do not care what you're reasoning is, what your defense is: You are making the primary way that Jews on tumblr communicate with/find eachother practically unusable, and that is an antisemitic act.

So, to whomever is doing this. If you have an ounce of capability of self reflection: read this. think about it. be better.

If you don't? Well, you are fucked anyways, because this behaviour will eventually leave you friendless in the real world.

[r0-boat]

Lavender Hair

Whb!Solomon x Demon!Reader

I cannot do porn with plot on this one😭 to save my life so we are just fucking him. Which sucks because I really wanted to write him being charismatic aaa

I had no idea what to call this I just called it that because his hair is very nice and I'd like to run my hands through it and braid it.

Cw: Solomon yoinking your V card, hair pulling, some switchiness, oral, fingering.

When his tip catches against your opening, your heart stops as reality sinks in.

You can see why devils like Solomon.

With his hair spread into pools of lavender all over the sheets, his eyes half-lit and full of mystery staring up at you, his gentle yet firm touch as he holds you in place and rolls his hips up into yours. You feel his bulge grind against your opening. There is no penetration yet; just enjoying the friction.

He was going to be inside you. And you were scared.

Solomon must have noticed because he then sat up a little bit. His voice was gentle and husky. "Is something wrong, love?"

"no, I mean... I just haven't done this before." You admitted, your face turning red at the sheer irony that you, a devil, had never had sex before.

Solomon, across is your cheek. "Oh love, you should have told me." He takes you in his arms as he lays you onto the mattress before crawling on top of you.

"Here, let me take over; I promise I'll be gentle."

He purrs. You feel his lips delicately press against your neck, going down his hand, gentle yet possessive, to feel and trace every part of your body.

"You're so radiant. I feel so lucky to have you in my arms," He whispers in a tickly ear. He chuckles at your whimpering; He loves what his words do to you and what he does to you. He hums, pushing your thighs apart. Tail, out of habit, wraps around his arms. He smiles when he feels it against his skin, gently feels it against his fingers, touching his lips and kissing the arrow-shaped tip.

"Are you comfortable, my dear?" Solomon coos as he shifts his body, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach till you feel his tongue prod you open. Your whole body shivers, your fingers going through his hair, wanting to grab onto something, your heart pounding in your chest. Solomon can sense your nervousness

"I'm going to worship you now. It's okay, I'll go slowly." You felt his tongue lazily lick your entrance before working. You opened each lick, getting deeper and deeper.

Your eyes screenshot as the grip on his hair grows tighter. That lavender main feels soft in your palm. You can feel the beads and his braids as you clench your fist.

As Solomon's movements become rougher and faster, You lose control of your body, giving him a harsh tug, You heard the soft clanks and jingling of the many trinkets in his hair. He let out a sharp inhale and a moan, making you realize what you did.

"Solomon, I'm sorry... I didn't mean-"You whimper and apologize. Solomon stops and looks up at you, those vacant eyes filled with lust and hunger. "Don't be sorry, please tug me as though you are my master."His husky voice, growling such much filth befitting of a demon, made you gasp as he dived back into you once more. His saliva coats your inner walls as it threatens to eat you alive.

You felt something bubble inside you, something foreign, increasing in intensity. Your thighs shake and squeeze around his head, but Solomon does not let that stop him. His fingernails dig into your hips as he forces his mouth, grinding his face against your body.

When he pulls away his tongue out, he switches, putting his mouth around you. You feel a finger slowly push inside you. This feeling is different than his tongue as he stretches you more.

"I'm going to add another finger. Be good to me and take it, please." Another husky whisper as you felt another finger stretch you.

That feeling bubbling in your core gets hotter and hotter, and Solomon strokes these flames, His fingers and his tongue moving faster and faster. He grows, seeing you arch your back.

Something about seeing someone orgasm for the first time made his heart race and his cock throb. And to be the one too give you that pleasure was a feeling greater than just mere sexual pleasure.

After you coat his fingers, he licks them clean before crawling back on top of you, wrapping His arms around you. "Was that good, my dear?" His cock throbs as pre cum drift down his shaft.

"It was." You purr feeling the aftershock of your first orgasm.

Solomon smiles. "Good I'm glad I could make you feel the same way you make me feel." Your heart throbbed at that comment He always had a way with words.

But, You felt his cock straining against you. "Solomon you haven't came."

You heard his muffled hum against your shoulder his hand idly stroking your side and your stomach. "It does not matter the pleasure I get from serving you is all I need."

He always knew just what to say but you really wanted him to feel good too. After he made you feel so good he felt a little more confident, and you're aching to know what it would feel like to have a cock inside you, his cock inside you.

"I want to be inside you; I want nothing more than to be inside you." More dirty filth from that melodic voice.

You turn over to him, his eyes grow wider as your hands strays Your fingers ghosting over his shaft' He could feel his cock twitch aching for more of you. "Please Solomon I want more I'm ready."

By the Kings, You always knew just what to say to drive him crazy. His breath shakes, with no emotion in those eyes and an unreadable face. You mistook it for hesitation until he pressed you onto your back once again, stroking his cock and playing with your opening, preparing himself to go inside.

Even now, he tries to comfort you, holding you as closely as possible, easing his way inside. You're tight virgin walls, even while prepped, still squeezed him generously. Solomon did not hide as pleasure, his face contorting, letting out noise that would make any demon blush and squirm.

A foreign feeling of being filled was painful yet strangely addicting. He stays inside you to the health, waiting for you to adjust to his size. That's stretching pain, fading into burning pleasure. You felt his breath shake against your ear as you clenched again. Your hands and fingers tangled in his lavender-colored hair. His words echo in your mind.

'tug me as though you are my master.'

You pulled at a part of his hair, telling him to move. Solomon lets out a loud whimper as he begins to buck his hips.

With an arm for your head to rest on and his other hand grasping into the sheets, He bucks hard, The slapping against his skin becoming louder and louder, but all you could hear was his and your moans.

That carefulness and softness to the two of you felt for each other was all long gone, that's the two of you fuck like animals.

Balls slapping against you, each thrust going all the way inside, each thrust rhythmic and almost calculated as he hits a foreign spot inside you that makes you suck in breath and arch. He starts to hit that spot over and over. "Right there? Is that the spot, my dear? Is that your spot, love?" if it weren't for the fact he was fucking you into the mattress, you would punish him.

Part of him wanted to flip you over and take complete control, to wrapping one of his muscular arms around your throat and drilling you from behind.

But you are already getting close, and the way you squeeze around his cock, I feel like he is going to come hard, empty his balls deep inside you, and flood your insides.

His rhythmic movements became more and more erratic, your hand abandoning his hair as your nails dug into his back, wrapping your legs around him.

"I'm cumming! Solomon!"You squeal, and Solomon coos, "I know, I know, beloved, you're milking me! I'm going to flood you full!"

He fucks through his orgasm drilling his cum deeper inside riding out both of your orgasms.

He collapses on top of you. He already has his arms around you, peppering your face with kisses.

"That was amazing, you are amazing, you're good, So good." You gave him a dreamy smile. You didn't have as much stamina as most demons, so you were already drained from two orgasms; you idly combed your fingers through his soft lavender mane, drifting to sleep in his arms.

[luxfatale]

✨joy is a form of resistance✨

[dipperscavern]

hiii! :) i really admire the way you write, especially for the man that exudes such strong husband energy: jon snow 😜 i was wondering if it’d be possible for me to request jon snow crushing on shy!reader while he’s still in the night’s watch. how would he go about his feelings? is jon’s duty to the program stronger than the base of what makes people human; the communion of two people? it’s a war between his mind and heart but it wouldn’t have to be if they were both on the same side, but which side is that?

baby girl this was like one of the first asks i ever received on this blog i am SO sorry for how i neglected you. really i just thought it was such a good request i needed to make a whole series about it HAHA i've moved away from that idea but here's the outline of it (with my word vomit in between the main points) for u :))) i admire YOU and the way YOU worded this. poet. come back to this blog so i can kiss your feet. OK LETS GO!

jon snow x fem!shy!reader // 3k words (i’m sorry.)

you make yourself scarce around castle black.

of course, being the only woman (and because of how close knit the brothers are), people notice you're there, but most don't bother you. you clean, you cook, you serve maester aemon, and you're more of an essence than anything. nobody even knows your name, and every time anyone asks the maester acts like he's sundowning (LMAO)

when jon discovers castle blacks secret, he's immediately enamored. he can't put his finger on what it is exactly… the sway of your hair, the bits of personality he catches glimpses of, perhaps it's the secrecy of it all.

that's what it must be — curiosity. the itch to dig in the ground where you know there's something under the dirt. nothing else, of course.

the first time you speak, he's more surprised than anything. your hair isn't blown by the wind to cover your face, and you're not an essence now, in this moment while facing him. you're real, and tangible, and hesitantly answering his questions.

he's careful about it. he says to himself its to be polite and not scare you, because that's not how father raised him. and while true, it's not the secret desire thrumming under his skin. the desire to speak to you again, and he knows if he prods too much, you'll show him the true meaning of recluse.

he even manages to get your name by the end of the conversation.

you don't know why you tell him. maybe it's because he's the only person besides the maester and lord commander you've talked to. maybe it's because of that strange feeling in your chest whenever he's around. whatever it is, you don't dwell on it.

if only jon could do the same.

it's like you planted a seed during your conversation. you've not sprouted yet, but, always, jon can feel you in the soil.

at first, he mistakes it for lust. thinks it's because you're the first woman he's laid eyes on since winterfell. that must be it. the nature of men, swallowing him and his thoughts whole.

the only thing he does more than train with a sword is shame himself for it.

he's been told — by the few that haven't acted like being a bastard is contagious — that he's observant. told by lord tyrion, especially. he used to take it as a (sort of) compliment, but it seems like he can't stop observing you.

when walking stairs, you skip every other step. sometimes you won't when leisurely walking down, but if you're in a rush you will. and you always skip them when walking up.

before doing a task, specifically holding something on the heavier side, you flick your left wrist to crack it. its subconscious, you never notice you're doing it. an old habit, jon thinks, likely stemming from an old injury. he's seen old northern lords do the same with their ankles before mounting horses.

your conversations begin to happen more and more, and jon starts to subconsciously seek you out. he once thought it was you walking in, but edd came through the door instead. he didn't let jon live it down for days, telling anyone that listened how his company can't be so horrid it makes people look like he just kicked a puppy among arrival. jon might’ve rolled his eyes at such a thing if he wasn’t blushing so furiously at the mention of you.

you're an unbelievably easy person to like. you smile and tuck hair behind your ears to ease your nerves, and somewhere in between doing so you burrow yourself deep into peoples hearts.

that's been jons experience, at least, but he can't fathom anyone having anything different.

it's like you've taken hold in his heart a place near arya, where protective nature and affection (yours a different kind then hers, quite obviously,) overlap. he eyes new recruits up and down, noting any to keep an eye on lest they be the kind he wouldn't trust around his sisters.

jon's not irrationally paranoid, so to say. a few have taken notice of you, and they aren't the kind you introduce to your mother and father. they make lewd gestures, and even lewder sentiments, which prompts jon to start your routine.

he starts walking you to your chambers at night. sam is up just that bit earlier with the stewards and keeps an eye on you in the mornings. if you notice, you don't appear to mind, offering a shy smile if you notice sam around. it's returned equally shy, if not shier.

he even mentions it to the old maester, just in case.

"And you worry for her, Jon snow?"

"Aye," he says. "I do."

the old man does a bit of prodding, himself. it's his favorite past time. "Why?"

jon glances to the window, where you can be seen feeding the ravens, unaware you're the topic of the present conversation. "Their eyes, Maester. They look at her as a piece of meat for the taking."

aemon nods. "And you do not, of course."

jon pauses, but not because the maester is right, and he feels a sort of guilt for it. he pauses because he’s wrong, and something uncomfortable tugs in his chest of that even being an idea. but he holds steady. "No. I don't."

the old man smiles, then. jon’s observant gaze sees the sorrow behind it. "I believe you."

it's a warm routine he falls into for a while. he rises with the sun, he trains, then its chores until lunch. you've become more of a presence around the castle, the security of jon (and, ghost,) and permission of the maester responsible for such an ability. so he sees you around. darting around corners, feeding ravens, scrubbing tables, skipping every other step in between. you both smile when you spot each other, even if it's a hard day. even if the day is cold.

once, you were cleaning the mess hall, and he & edd just happened to be walking by one of the windows you were near. naturally, edd, ever the observer and, more importantly, troublemaker, knocked on the window and quickly darted out of sight. since the gods favor him, your head snapped up just in time to see jon pass by.

when he walked you to your chambers that night, he explained it with such embarrassment the tips of his ears turned pink. you couldn't help laughing. jon couldn't help the way the sound made his heart sing.

it's a comfortable routine, and he finds security in having one. he’s learning, he’s becoming, and he is not alone. jon feels a sort of familiarity with it as each day passes.

the gods never favored him much, of course.

he ventures out beyond the wall and is stolen by fire. oddly, as he's hauled to the wildling camp, the most worry he feels for himself stems from the worry in your eyes when learning he'd be going on that journey. the absence of you stings worse than the cold.

he begins to go mad, seemingly. he imagines how you'd react to things, even though you're nowhere near. tormund said the strangest thing the other day, and the only thing jon could think of is your brows, and how they'd furrow. only lightly — you're careful in how much you let on.

he's frustrated with the woman with flamekissed hair, and how kissing her is the only surefire way to keep himself alive. the only way to get back to you. he's even resorted to putting ghost between them as they sleep. and as he lays there, frustrated, his thoughts drift to you (as they do most nights.)

he knows what you'd say if you were here. “'S not like she wants you, or anything mad like that."

jon, the fool, smiles to himself. he can't even help it.

"What are you grinning at, Crow?" someone says, and the smile is gone as quickly as it came.

internally, he chides himself the rest of the night and the next day for having no self-control about you. it's pathetic, he says to himself.

liar, a small voice whispers back.

a shake of his head, an intense blow of winter wind, and the voice is gone. a raven caws in the distance.

wind and words, wind and words.

the thoughts of you never really cease, so to say. he's able to put a leash on them, but can't seem stop himself in some instances.

you'd like that plant. you'd braid this animals hair, if you could. you'd think this child is cute. he blinks and behind his eyes he can see the warmth your features would carry when looking at them. the shake of his head does nothing this time.

somehow, some way, he makes it through.

the process is long and hard, and he feels different when he comes back, but at least he does. that is the important part. full of arrows and bleeding, but he makes it through those gates.

and all those feelings he worked so hard to bury come rushing back in one big swarm when he wakes.

the waking comes in two parts. first, he comes to, but doesn't open his eyes. the ache of arrows is registered, but it doesn't feel nearly as it did. theres something in his system dulling it, and he knows it must be something of maester aemon's. the realization that he's not only alive, but safe, has him a moments away from sleep as his body relaxes. but one thing keeps him awake for merely a second longer.

a voice. soft, and shy - like its not used to making itself known. a womans.

yours.

you're mumbling, but he can make out a few bits, and the cadence in which you say it. you're reciting an old northern prayer.

his heart swells, but he itches to tell you not to bother. they won't hear you, he wants to whisper. my blood deafens them.

and the darkness is greedy and swallows him whole.

the next time wakes is the final time. the first thing he registers isn't the ache of his wounds, surprisingly. of course, its quick to follow, but first is the weight of a smaller, softer hand in his. and his chest begins to ache for a different reason.

he opens his eyes to see you standing at his side, hand in his, but you aren't looking at him. your head is turned toward the window.

he could say something.

but he doesn't.

almost, he does, but something holds him back. perhaps it is the same thing that makes his eyes flutter shut again until you take your leave sometime later.

it's the last time you're together for a while.

even when he recovers, he doesn't seek you out. he doesn't push you away when you come to him, but you can feel the absence of a pull. the gravity of you no longer pulls him into orbit.

except it does. it's only farther now.

something shifts between you, and it is a strange kind of understanding.

he acts like he doesn't feel for you like he used to, while still refusing to leave your solar system. he still walks you every night. you act like you think he really doesn't feel that way anymore, while continuing to be his sun. you still brush a hand against his during your walks, sometimes. he used to lean away from you in his nerves, but now he twitches into you. you both pretend as if you don't notice, of course.

things are different, yes, but he's here. though you sleep in different buildings, it's still in the same walls. such small comforts make that distance between you both seem just an inch smaller — and these days that is enough.

is it?

as jon lays at night, like they did beyond the wall, his thoughts drift to you. it's harder to lie to himself when the moon is full, somehow. perhaps its watching.

eyes or none, after a few sleepless nights where he can do nothing but lay and think, he eventually comes to terms with himself.

he loves you, this he knows.

but he is unworthy. it would be a sin to taint you with such a ridden thing as himself — to not give you the life you deserve.

so, as the sun comes up, he makes a vow to himself and to it. its unspoken — merely crawled up his throat in a final breath he uses to blow out the candle lit at night when you consume his thoughts.

time passes. hearts beat, but they ache. distance grows between the planets, and it seems as if gravity weakens its pull with each passing day.

jon soon becomes lord commander.

you aren't allowed to vote, but if you could, you'd cast yours for him. for your heartache.

it's not like he doesn't hurt, too. you can see it behind his eyes whenever he looks at you. he doesn't allow himself to meet your gaze much anymore.

you offer him a shy, small smile and a nod of your head when he wins the election. he looks away.

you take your leave, and as you brace the weather in the walk to your chambers, you have a fleeting thought of snow and winter & their intersection. his absence stings like the cold.

and like a winter storm does his absence flurry.

he drowns himself in his duties now. there's a plethora of them, and it does good to rid himself of you.

a harsh thought. he winces with its fury.

it's better this way, he thinks. you're better off without him. safe, too. sam, grenn, and edd take turns escorting you at night under his command.

you may miss him, but you'll live, and so will he. he doesn't miss you much anymore.

"Liar," he says out loud this time.

time is a funny thing, you know

it’s always stretching on, somehow both impossibly slow and racing at alarming speeds. it feels like only months ago he left winterfell and joined the nights watch — an inexperienced bastard boy with nothing of his own.

now, lord stannis baratheon stands before him, the lord commander of the nights watch, offering him the ruling seat of the north on a silver platter. not just that — stannis has offered to legitimize him. he would bend the knee as jon snow, and rise as jon stark.

he could have you.

if he agreed, your children wouldn't be bastards. they'd run around the very halls jon grew up in.

when he sits at his desk in the dead of night, he almost agrees. his knees are on the cusp of bending, of hitting the ground not just in front of stannis, but in front of you. for the rest of his days.

he almost does it.

until the voice of ned stark fills his head. the voice of honor, of duty, of loyalty — of being alright with dying if it was for an honorable cause. and, ultimately, that voice carries weight heavier than stannis baratheons.

however, what jon fails to observe are the times and ways in which ned stark chose his family above all else. he doesn’t know that ned stark proudly harbors a "stain" on his honor and reputation such as jon for the love he bore his sister.

how could he? perhaps if jon knelt at the weirwood as often as he was told to, his father could speak from its mouth and tell him so. if only.

wind and words, wind and words.

the wind is cold the day jon tells stannis baratheon his name will remain snow. it blows with a fury the day the lord departs.

as jon watches him, he spares a glance to you. you're already looking at him, and his heart lurches against his will. your lips twitch in a frown as you turn your back to him, ravens cawing at you incessantly to be fed.

they are restless in the days leading up to the knives.

they caw during all hours of the night, keeping many of you awake. others have tried, but they only calm when you come to them. sometimes, when even that isn't enough, you recite that old northern prayer while feeding small seeds through the cages.

the few times you've done it, you've seen jon through the window of the lord commanders chambers. sometimes he stays in; others, he and ghost go for a walk. it's as if that prayer wakes him up.

if it does, it does nothing to wake his heart when it stops beating.

blood spilled on snow. blood spilled from snow. all of it is a blur — all of it is too much.

grief and heartache like you've never known it. a hook in your ribs, a chain of loss weighing from the end of it. it drags your shoulders down, drags your tears down your cheeks, and you feel heavy as he lays there, cold. colder than you've ever known him. cold like snow isn't a name, but what replaces his muscle.

maybe it does.

his body doesn't leave your sight until tormund giantsbane breaks through to castle black and order is restored. melisandre tries some strange ritual, but it doesn't work.

you aren't surprised. the gods never favored you much.

it feels like your prayers have always fallen on deaf ears — you can’t remember why you even bother to recite.

but, still, you thank her for trying. edd slings an arm over your shoulders as you both take your leave, and the weight is comforting.

the weight in your shoulders is lifted when you're found minutes later with the news of the undead.

you're no longer heavy — you run. you run so fast you skip every two steps when coming up the stairs to the lord commander's chambers.

it's somehow all a blur, and the clearest your memory has ever been.

he's no longer cold like the dead are. he's standing in front of you, and you can see it as he looks at you. he's been torn down and rebuilt and is missing pieces the recent blur of life and death make it impossible to label which are gone.

even so, you throw yourself into his arms, and they're already open and searching for you before you do.

his skin is cold, but he is not. he recites apologies until his voice breaks, and he gets quiet, and you tell him it's okay. and when you break apart, and look at each other for the first time in months, jon makes a decision - a vow, right then and there.

he couldn't - and didn't - have you in his last life, so he will have you in this one. he gave his life to the nights watch, he thinks. any oath he swore died with him.

well, at least that's what ricochets in his mind as he raises a hand to cup your jaw, closing the small gap and crashing his lips into yours.

[magsdoodle]

spinneret fun! 🕷️ written by me & nevi

the rest under cut:

[jewishbarbies]

twitter leftist: support freedom, dignity, and liberation for all people

jews: so can i go home and be safe there?

twitter leftist: did i say you were people?

[simplydnp]

totally normal about the 'wedding?' response continuing to evolve even though it's only been 5 shows. at this point i'm convinced the grand plan behind tit is to convince dan via exposure therapy that he's allowed to want to get married

[nando161mando]

Pull yourself up by your boot straps kids.

[wandixx]

Christmas in Mount Justice

cartoon version of Young Justice, written instead of sleeping and I'll be honest, I kinda run out of steam at the end, but it'd take me until next year if I didn't push through, so here it is, and hopefully it's not quite visible where I started pushing through it, I hope you'll enjoy

words: 4633

“Since, hopefully, this is the last time we're seeing each other before Christmas–” Black Canary announced, stretching after finished training“ I wish you all merry and healthy and boring Christmas” she finished with a wide warm smile. Danny barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. This goddamn worst time of the year. He checked once more if his mental shields were up. According to M'gann, ghosts were really loud on mind reading wavelengths so he needed to keep them up most of the time. He wasn't an asshole to drown his friend in absolute hatred of Christmas.

“You too Black Canary!” Wally yelled, running like the earth was burning to get cookies M'gann baked “By the way, what are your plans?” he asked upon his return.

Did they really have to keep talking about it? Danny was half considering just dropping through the floor to escape this conversation but chose against it because he really didn't want to answer all the questions it would cause or hear a ‘you can't deal with all unwanted conversations by escaping them’ lecture again any time soon. He could and he would, the Freakshow incident was just one way to prove it.

“B and I have to attend some stuffy rich people party” Robin said with clear displeasure “I still need to plan what mess to stir there. Chandeliers swinging are banned and so is arson so I have to get creative.”

“You actually set something on fire?! That's sick as hell!” the speedster's enthusiasm didn't waver as he threw a few cookies at Danny. It was nice that someone remembered about Danny's slightly enhanced metabolism. They (both Young Justice and Amity squad) still didn't understand it completely but the working hypothesis was that he needed to eat more to make up for ectoplasm he couldn't consume in quantities big enough for his ghost side since it was poisonous to humans and he had to dose it carefully. Being a halfa was rough like that some(most)times. 

“Well, lighter is easy to sneak inside–” Robin explained and honestly Danny never expected to hear Gotham’s feared vigilante go over logistics of arson but he guessed it was his life now, he could use this info to do something about at least one Christmas tree in Amity or share it with Sam. She mentioned some upcoming rich people party too”–and amount of alcohol there is astonishing, really you'd think that people would try to stay sober on event like that but apparently–”

“I'm having dinner with my mom and some family friends–” Artemis interrupted “Can't wait spend God knows how many hours with all of them talking over each other and asking awkward questions” she tried to sound displeased but there was no way she could hide her fondness and wasn't that a wild thing to see. Seriously, he almost choked on a cookie. In theory Danny knew some people genuinely liked Christmes but–

Just like that? Just happy to–

Yeah, he knew but couldn't quite comprehend. Sam was exactly like that, found but trying to seem annoyed to keep up with her goth persona. Tucker was way more open about his delight.

For Danny Christmas was only too loud because everyone was singing badly and too bright because of lights and too stuffy and there was this damned argument about Santa and yelling and fe–

“Oh, me too! We also planned a movie night with Central Rogues, this time it's Cold’s turn. I wish he won't pick Die Hard again…”

Well, Danny guessed movie night with Rogues, that clearly meant an off evening since they wouldn't try to stir things up while watching the movie, sounded like a really nice idea. Personally he would do without people who try to turn him into a pulp every other day but apparently things worked differently in Central.

“King Orin wanted to introduce me to some surface celebrations as well,” Kaldur said with a warm smile and halfa forcefully stopped himself from giving their leader a weird look. Even him?! Betrayal, absolute betrayal! 

“Well, I don't really celebrate so I'm staying here, maybe training a bit, I'm not sure yet,” M'gann announced shyly and it took all his willpower to not hug her for being the only sensible person in the room.

“Yeah, I'm staying too. Apparently I'm not invited to family gatherings” Conner added bitterly. 

“Honestly your not missing much,” Danny muttered “It's just perfectly prepared and measured argument breeding space, believe me”

Wally tried to protest but one pointed glare and it dissolved through power of ‘don't make Conner feel about it any worse than he already does’. Danny felt a little guilty for using it to sooth his own hatred towards Christmas but not too much. He really wanted to reassure his friend and ways he went about it were no one else's business. 

“And what are your plans, Danny?” M'gann asked gently after he didn't continue. He really wished he didn't have to answer but keeping his emotions hidden meant nobody could see that something was up and say ‘you don't have to tell if you don't want to’ or other shit like that.

“Not sure yet. I think I will crash with you here honestly. If we believe this magic book we found, there is a Christmas truce in Zone, so there shouldn't be any ghost attacks and your company is always great,” he smiled sincerely.

“Wouldn't your parents ask questions if you just skipped Christmas, though?” Wally asked a bit cautiously but Danny waved his concern off with a vague ‘eh’ sound.

“Will you show us some Christmas traditions then? As a part of ‘earthly traditions’ course?” M'gann's eyes almost shone with excitement and Conner looked hopeful and it made him feel conflicted. The whole point of crashing in Mount Justice with two aliens was to not touch anything Christmas related with thirty feet long stick but alas M'gann asked nicely and was pretty. These were two big ideals fighting inside of him then and there while he tried to keep his face and outer mind blank enough to not bring any suspicion.

Betrayal to second, no third, power! He wanted to escape this hell of an experience! 

But well, he could shape the experience in a way that's the least painful and M'gann and Conner were really great friends…

“Sure”

He couldn't quite match her enthusiastic grin or even Conner’s bit smaller one.

He was going to regret it, wouldn't he?

***

“Guys, I messed up so bad…” Danny whined,  curling on Sam's enormous bed covered in fluffy blankets and nice pillows.

“What did you do this time?” girl asked with a smirk. Halfa was sometimes mad how well his friends knew him and didn't take his dramatics as seriously as he would like to.

“I wanted to have a sleepover at Team's HQ during Christmas, you know, to escape it. Only ones who will stay are Miss Martian and Superboy, aliens, so I thought it's a good idea. And then they asked me to show them ‘earthly Christmas traditions’ and I AGREED!” he yelled, his hands flying dramatically at the confession.

His friends, little traitors they were, just laughed.

He came to get some help, advice on either doing this introduction well because Danny Fenton was known for a lot of things but half-assing projects he agreed to do wasn't one of them (homework was obligatory without his consents ergo didn't count) or gracefully getting away from mess his idiocy brought onto him, not to be laughed at! He had enough of it at other times.

Though they got to work when they calmed down, making Danny revisit the idea of not talking to them ever again and throwing it out of the window.

“Alright,” Tucker started, preparing his note and planner apps before continuing “what do you want to show them? Gingerbread house?”

“Of course” Danny huffed because as much as he hated Christmas and its traditions, gingerbread house was decent one. Making one at Tucker's place three years ago when he had been introduced to the idea was one of his best memories related to the holiday. Even though it was cut short by trip to the ER because dumbass little Danny had wanted a little gingerbread man he set aside and he had eaten him still all fresh and 350°F hot and got severe burns in his mouth and throat because apparently his instinctual response to burning in his mouth was to swallow instead of to spit.

“Gifts.” Sam raised in a way that meant she was not taking any complaints and Danny didn't really want to argue. His track record with gifts from his parents wasn't too good ever since he had a brief just-like-dad phase and they didn't realize it ended after a month but other people knew how to fix it. The Voyager Lego set he got from Sam the year before still made him smile when his eyes landed on it. 

Tucker noted it down. “What else? Christmas tree?”

Danny winced but nodded. He wasn't too fond of it but it was too big to miss it.

“Ugly sweaters?”

“Superboy would actually develop laser vision if I tried it”

“Movie marathon? I can lend you some DvDs”

“Yeah, it's probably a good idea. Kid Flash mentioned it too.”

“Santa Claus?” Sam asked with a smirk and Danny threw a pillow at her.

“Who is Santa Claus? I never heard of him, must be a Rhode Island thing” he answered with a straight face, not knowing how many times he will have to repeat it.

**

Phantom: hey guys!

Phantom: want a Crisscross Christmas

Phantom: ?

Artemis: The what?

Phantom: oh, you know

Phantom: this thing were we draw aech othres names anf have to buy a gift

Kid Flash: you mena Secret Santa

Kid Flash: ???

Phantom: never heard of that

Phantom: thats a wierd naem

Phantom: but if rules match, call it whatever yoyu wnat

Aqualad: I like this idea

Robin: GIft drop-off on 27th is okay for everyone?

7 people liked this message

Robin: i take that for yes. 50$ budget?

Kid Flash: Robin, Rob, Bob, my best pal. I have 5$ and single slice of bubblegum to my name rn

Kid Flash: No, actually no bubblegum anymore

Kid Flash: 10$ is top I could spend

Phantom: Same

Artemis: Same

Aqualad: Me too

Miss Martian: I'm not sure if me and Superboy have any money, actually

Phantom: See Rob?

Phantom: just be a good samamritanina and give them 10$ instead og flaunting batmans money

***

"Important question. How do one pick a present?"

"You know, it's good if it's something personal, either in a way that it's something they want or need, a gag gift that'd be funny for both of you, or just something that made you think of them"

"Yeah, yeah, I read the mom blogs, none of this actually helps, what am I supposed to get for Artemis?!"

***

"Alright, so. I have a list of things I think you need to learn about Christmas. We're kinda late to the party, so I cut off some stuff because there is no way we would make it in time."

"Sounds about right, what do we start with?"

"Most classic of classics, the Christmas tree, Batman already greenlit it, so it's waiting outside"

***

"So, Christmas tree is evergreen plant, conifer, sometimes only branch or synthetically made model, that, if living, is cut down from Christmas tree nursery, and then put inside the house, usually in the living room or other space that is considered repre-"

"Danny, we live in society, we have basic knowledge on American traditions that is literally everywhere. We don't need it to be spoon fed to us in a voice more robotic way than Red Tornado, literal robot"

"Conner!"

"What?! I'm not wrong"

"Sorry. Let's get to decorating then?"

"If you want to ramble, we'd be more than happy to listen. It's obvious that you took a lot of care to learn everything."

"Speak for yourself"

"Conner!"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, with what exactly do we plan to decorate it?"

"Oh, this one is easy. I asked around people to donate some stuff, and Batman got us few things after I asked for permission for the tree. He even asked Justice League to drop us some things too."

"That's nice of them"

"Yeah, though I'm a bit worried about gifts from Arrows and Robin, y'know. They all had this type of smile that means either a gag idea, merch or exploding glitter and I'm not sure which option scares me the most"

"Glitter"

"Glitter"

"Yeah, you're right"

***

"Did… um… did Superman bring anything?"

"Yes, actually! He brought pretty big box of stuff and mentioned dropping of some food for Christmas in the morning or the afternoon of the first day. He said he was happy that you got the experience even if he isn't able to be the one to give it to you. I think he is coming around"

It was an interesting thing about Danny. He wasn't all that good with authority figures or frankly adults in general, and he never passed on the chance to tear in Superman for his treatment of Conner, if he saw the man, but in private he was surprisingly pro-Superman and tried to make them "see his perspective" with some pretty convincing arguments. Everyone else was still unimpressed but Danny never gave up.

M'gann still wasn't sure if in these circumstances she found it cute or annoying.

"Bullshit"

"If that's what you want to believe in"

***

"Oh, hello Megan! Red Tornado, would you like to join us in decorating the Christmas tree?"

"This… seems like a decent idea. What is the procedure of it?"

"We already put on the lights, so now we're placing baubles and other hanging decorations, before we finish off with paper chains and these fuzzy boas. We need them evenly spread out on all of the tree, preferably in a way, that things in similar colors aren't right next to each other, alright?"

"Yes, Phantom, instructions are clear"

"Great. Do we want some music in the background? My friends usually play some Christmas songs to get us all in 'the right mood' as he calls it?"

"Good idea, I'll play something."

"Thanks Meg"

"Just hear the sleigh bell jingling…"

"Is this… yeah, it's Carpenters, it's Jazz's favo- oh shit"

"Got it!"

"Nice catch Conner! Red Tornado, sorry I didn't clarify before, we're not decorating the side by the wall."

"Understood"

***

"We have only one last thing left then"

"Yeah?"

"The star at the top. The youngest child of the family usually get the honor. Conner, it's you time to shine~"

"Shut up already"

"How is he supposed to reach the top though? He can't fly"

"Step stool or someone has to hold him up lion king style"

"Lion king- Don't you dare! Keep those hands to yourself! Danny!

***

"So, what's next on your magical list?"

"Gingerbread house. It's a moment for you to shine Meg, because I'm absolute mess in the kitchen and I don't think Conner is much better"

"Actually-"

"blah, blah, blah, absolutely perfect, could be hired at Michelin star restaurant right this instant blah, blah, blah"

"Oh, you little-"

"I believe the arguments are supposed to start at the Christmas table and not before. It seemed to be consensus in my sources. Was I mistaken?"

Conner stopped dead in his tracks, as confused as M'gann at the question.

Danny laughed so hard he fell on the ground.

"Red Tornado, what does that mean?"

"There is no need to spread misinformation until we can get confirmation whether my sources were correct or not"

"Danny? Danny?! What does he mean?! Why are you laughing?!"

Danny just stayed curled on the floor, almost wheezing.

***

"So, we have all of the ingredients, right? Flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves-"

"I think it's still in the cabinet, let me grab it real quick"

"Alright, other than cloves, do we have salt, vegetable shortening, granulated sugar, molasses, an egg- I mean, applesauce? Yeah? Let's hope it'll work. Okay, I think were ready"

"Ginger?"

"What?"

"Do we have ginger ready?"

"I don't think so, I'm pretty sure we've run out about a week ago? Why- oh wait"

"Did we seriously forgot to get ginger to make The Gingerbread House?! It's literally in the name!"

They all just stood in silence for a long moment.

"We're idiots"

"Well said, well said"

"I believe there are better names to describe you in this situation. Unfortunately, I cannot recall them"

"Thanks Red Tornado, that was helpful"

"Maybe we can still buy it?"

"It's 10:34 PM, December 23rd, M'gann, what shop would even be open?"

"Shut up Conner, it's actually not a bad idea. I think I've seen- yes, there is something open until eleven, about five minutes out if I fly"

***

"There was no ginger at the shop, but I got cranberry for later, if needed, and some chips to snack on"

"It's fine, we found unopened pack of powdered ginger in the back of the cabinet"

"That's great! Give me a minute to return this packet I liberated on my way home?"

"Danny!"

***

"Hey, M'gann!"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to invite your uncle to our dinner?"

"That's a great idea Conner, thank you!"

***

"Okay, wait, wait, wait, before you two get weirdly aggressive about it again-"

"We're not that aggressive and it's a serious matter"

"I don't have any ghosts to get of my misplaced aggression out on so I'm funneling it into cake decorating instead"

"M'gann, you literally are trying to choke him right now, Danny, even I know it's concerning and I have less than half a year of learning what is considered normal under my belt. Anyway, before you escalate it again, how about each one of us gets one side of the house and then we work in pairs on the roof?"

"I like that"

"But what about aesthetic integrity!"

"It's quite literally against the point of gingerbread house"

***

"Before we go to sleep, I believe it's a widespread tradition to leave milk and cookies for the Santa Claus on the Christmas Eve evening"

"Huh"

"What is it this time?"

"Nothing really, chill out Conner, I just never heard of that"

It was so clearly a lie it probably couldn't even be called that, but at this point everyone realized, that for some reason bearded man in red was a sore subject, and they stopped trying to learn why. Maybe some day he'd tell them.

***

"Sorry. This person is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone."

"Hey Dani, it's Danny. Merry Christmas, please let me know when you get that. I'm celebrating outside of home, safe, with some friends, so if you want, I can give you an address and you can drop by. They're all more than okay with ghost stuff and have a history of accepting someone similar to you without any questions. I'm sure they'd love you. Let me know you're alright and if you want to join us. Sorry I keep calling, I'm at the worrywart stage. Love you, please stay safe."

Danny was doing pretty well with this whole "organizing Christmas". Really. M'gann did kick him out to breathe a bit of fresh air (and wait for the Superman and food he was supposed to bring in) because his hands were shaking too much, but other than that he was fine. Really. He was getting a bit panicky because he didn't hear a word from his sister in the past week and usually she let them know if she knew she would go somewhere where that could happen but she just as often didn't because she spontaneously decided to do something else. Trackers they made her wear showed she was fine.

It didn't really help, he wasn't sure if there was anything less than actually hearing or preferably seeing her that could reassure him.

It wasn't even talking about all of the trouble that was a bit closer to home, because Christmas never meant anything good for him, with or without his parents stirring up the Santa-fight. They weren't there and yet, he still couldn't make himself believe it could be any better this time. For Ancients sake, he made sure there was no Santa Claus in whole Mountain, nothing to remind him of how it always was and his brain still decided to be stupid about it.

So now he was standing in thin hoodie out in Rhode Island winter, in hopes that cold would shock him out of spiraling, trying to keep his breaths even and not fly away because it felt all like a little too much at the moment. he was standing in thin hoodie out in Rhode Island winter, waiting for a man who would awkwardly try to do the whole 'I'm an adult you can trust' routine and then treat him like messenger pigeon to contact the child that actually wanted and needed him. He couldn't entirely blame him but-

"Are you quite alright?"

"I'm fine"

"Are you sure? It's quite cold to be dressed like this and your heartbeat is quite erratic."

"I'm fine as old wine Superman, please say your piece before someone comes to see what took me so long"

"Danny-"

"I'm serious. Leave it alone and just give me the food"

Superman looked a bit conflicted, clearly considering all of the potential pros and cons of digging in further and choose wrong.

"You're worried about Dani"

"You're the last person I want to talk to about her," Danny spat out, anxiety quickly turning into anger.

"Of course, but-"

"Have two civil conversations with your clone before trying to tell me how I should handle mine" As soon as these words left his mouth, Danny regretted them, if only a little, but he kept pushing "I told you about her to explain why I'm willing to vouch for you. It doesn't make you someone I'll confide in. It doesn't make you someone I trust. It doesn't make me approve of the way your handling it. It just means I understand. But you're an adult man and experienced hero with stable job and adult shit figured out and I'm a teenager with home just safe enough for me to stay and family that'd question how third child just showed up. We are not the same."

Superman flinched away at some point during the rant, looking properly humbled. He avoided eye contact and just reached forward to pass him hard plastic case filled with food containers and smaller boxes wrapped up in nice Christmas themed paper.

"Alright kiddo. Get it inside before you turn into a icicle. And tell Conner I wish him Merry Christmas, alright? I mean, I wish it to everyone but…"

Damn, if the "never meet your heroes" person wasn't right.

"You're a coward Superman. Come in and tell him that yourself"

***

Conner lashed out, as expected, but it was far more subdued than it would be just few month before. To his credit, Superman stayed the whole time it went down and only left when boy mostly calmed down and wouldn't feel like he was being ignored. Man even tried to respond to some allegations, though he wasn't really heard. Conner ranted some more after hero left, but overall it went better than Danny thought it would.

Then they had dinner, which went… surprisingly well. Apparently, not having to worry about being attacked by the main dish did wonders to Danny's overall jitters (and didn't everyone get super weird when he mentioned it). Not having people start nonsensical fights also helped. He knew better than to mention that.

Also, turns out that Superman or whoever he got to make them food was freaking amazing cook, thank you very much. Danny wasn't necessarily fasting, not in a way he knew some people did in the period preceding Christmas or at least on Christmas Eve, but the tension of past few days made it hard to eat a lot. It definitely lessened now that the thing was happening and seemingly going well, so he was absolutely ravenous. To be completely honest, as far as he could tell, everyone else matched his enthusiasm.

There was a bit off moment at the beginning, when Martian Manhunter asked him if he shouldn't be with his family during holidays, but Danny quickly and subtly brushed it off and nobody mentioned that afterwards.

He may have overeaten, actually, for once in his live, which he may regret in the morning, but at the moment, it made him quite content.

Then came the gifts, which also went better than he expected. For once there was no need to act like he enjoyed the gift despite already planning on how to get rid of it. Even better, focus was almost fully removed from him, obviously, because it wasn't his first rodeo.

Conner looked so lost and confused with the gift he got from Superman's mom, it was almost heartbreaking. It was beautiful crocheted scarf, black and red, with his symbol on each end, and an apology note explaining that Mrs Martha Kent would give him something more note worthy but she learned about him way to late to make something better. There was also promise of more worthy gift in near future. Danny knew all that because Conner read it out loud, asking everyone to help him make sense of that. There was only so much they could do.

Other than that, he got some nice flannel shirts from M'gann, quite a few sweets. He also got a book from Danny (it was a sin he didn't read "The Martian" before) and concepts of new hero suits for him, that Sam somehow sneaked between the pages. It was certainly a lot to explain without making anyone angry.

M'gann got two different cook books, that unfortunately didn't include Fenton fudge recipe (Dad was really protective over it), some surprisingly obscure merch from "Hello Megan" and more sweets.

Red Tornado got an apron and few tokens of appreciation, that robot quite liked, as far as Danny could tell.

Martian Manhuter, due to how rarely he visited, was the hardest to pick presents for, which resulted in some general little trinkets.

Danny got night sky projector, which was really cool, and potted plant, for some reason, which, while also cool, because plants are cool (Sam would rekill him if he thought otherwise), he knew far too well, would not survive until July. It wasn't only because he could barely take care of himself, let alone whole ass plant (see also, that one time he either drowned or dried three cacti), but also because of the times ghosts (or home security) attacked him in his room. He was thankful anyway. Maybe it could push him into finally getting some contingencies against that, that’d actually work. After all, it was quite a pretty plant.

By the time they moved to the couch to watch “Die Hard” of all things (it was only DVD that Tucker provided that didn’t have Santa Claus as a prominent character, because of course that little traitor would do that), Danny had to admit that this Christmas was… nice. Enjoyable. Pretty amazing actually. Good enough that he could understand people waiting for it the whole year. He couldn’t tell that he joined their ranks, but he certainly could understand them.

It was also downright exhausting and at some point even dynamic fights of John McClane couldn’t keep his eyes open. It was fine though. He was safe, he was warm, almost squeezed against his friends. It was good place to just relax.

It’s been first time in a long time since he felt that on Christmas.

********

I'm not sure if I managed to properly Conner's... whole thing, if he turned out too hostile, let's just say he was still pissed about the whole "wasn't invited to Clark's family gathering" thing and it made him a bit more antsy.

I'm not sure how well I managed to handle it, but I don't want to bash neither Clark nor Conner. They're both victims in this situation and while the way Clark handled it was far from ideal, it's also far from worst he could do and I believe he deserves a bit more grace. In the end, on psychological level he is just human and humans don't always handle being baby trapped perfectly. Maybe I have more understanding towards him because my prefered way of handling conflicts is walking out and locking myself in my room, but idk. Maybe I'm capable of more coherent explanation when it's not 3:44 AM

Ginger shenanigans were inspired by my own Christmas preparation adventures, when I was making bread dough for the Christmas Eve and decided to add rosemary to make it more ✨festive✨ and got really attached to the idea. My mom agreed, then it turned out we didn't have any, then I went to the shop like twenty minutes before it closed at 11PM so at least one guy was there to replenish his alcohol suplies. My mom called to tell me to also buy some powdered garlic and beetroot. Turned out we had rosemary at home. At shop I only found garlic. I also brought energy drink, because I was tired but had more stuff to do and some snacks just because.

Bread turned out pretty good.

I sincerely believe if I was solely responsible of making gingerbread, I would forget to get ginger (or like, to fit with "it's in the name" thing, pepper, because in Polish it's "piernik")

I'm really sorry if the drop in quality by the end is noticable, if this thing stayed unfinished whole another year i'd do something I'd regret later.

[chanelle-lize]

I used to have a really hard time bringing up the fact that I graduated from high school a year late without feeling the need to explain why and insisting that it wasn't my fault while simultaneously kicking myself for how much I sounded like I was just making excuses for something I should take responsibility for.

Then I watched Dimension 20's "The Seven" and suddenly I could simply say that I was a super senior.

The first time I heard the phrase "super senior" was in reference to Antiope Jones, a Black girl who had been held back a year after getting kidnapped and imprisoned by members of a fundamentalist cult, and like, girl, same.

So, since then, instead of anxiously spinning out any time I tried to tell a personal high school anecdote, I could just say I was a super senior, and then my brain would auto complete that statement with "like Antiope Jones" and I'd feel good about myself because Antiope Jones Is That Bitch.

That's what the problem had been the whole time. I wasn't worried about how other people would perceive me; I had been struggling with how I perceived myself.

Thanks, Aabria.

[myhyperfixationisiforgot]

Kala Dandekar really heard Wolfgang say that there was something dark inside him (meaning the murdering incest baby thing) and said me too (meaning the not in love with her husband thing).