#here is just my reasoning for why this is the stance i have !!

[princema-k]

THE LIVING MUSEUM: CHAPTER 1

(interactive puzzle at the bottom!)

As luck would have it, the detective had a case that had just been given to her by the Chief Constable Barton (talk about a high order!) I watched as she leafed through the folders on her desk before slipping out a small stack of papers and bringing them over to me. Clearing her throat, Detective Layton ran over the details…

“At approximately 2:00pm, a fire alarm in the Natural History Museum sounded. Around 5 minutes later, visitors in the museum reported that they witnessed several exhibits, and I quote, ‘come to life before their eyes.’ There were visitors who told officials that the suits of armour on display had started to move and raise their weapons, visitors who reported that paintings on the walls started to melt and blink, and visitors who said that the dinosaur skeleton exhibits had opened their mouths and moved their heads. But the most damning of all seemed to be the Tyrannosaurus rex exhibit, who not just moved but assumed a lunging stance with its full body, as well as somehow roared.”

“Right, that’s odd. And?”

“Well, since the officials were only able to question the visitors outside of the museum due to everyone having been evacuated because of the fire alarm, naturally they went inside to check the exhibits themselves.”

“And they found…?”

“Nothing. They did a whole sweep of the area, but they found nothing out of place. All exhibits were in their normal places, the paintings were just fine, and everything was untouched.”

“Wow…”

“I assume the reason that Barton held onto what information they had on it and handed it to me was due to the witnesses. Despite the fact that the Yard found no obvious signs of tampering, everyone swears up and down the walls that the museum had seemingly come to life at that moment.”

“...That is a proper mystery. And these files are all we have on the matter?”

“Well, in a sense, yes. These are all the files we have,” Detective Layton muses as she taps the bottom of the stack on the coffee table. Then, getting up, she drops the stack back in their folder. “...Which is why I was thinking of heading over to the museum myself to do a bit of personal investigation.”

“As expected of the great Professor Layton,” I say cheekily as I stand and follow her to the front door, grabbing my jacket off the hanger in the process. The detective sighs lightly as she places her hat on her head, pulling the brim over her eyes in mock disappointment. “Please, Ms. Altava. It's just Detective.”

Now lifting the brim, she smiles brightly as she grabs her umbrella.

“So, Ms. Altava… let’s go investigate this living museum with our own two eyes, shall we?”

And with that, our adventure into the peculiar museum begi-

“Ah, but before that, I have here the directions to the museum written for me by Barton, and it seems to be a puzzle of some sort. As you’re now my assistant, why don’t you give it a shot? Think of it as a warm-up of things to come.”

…Right. She’s Layton’s daughter, after all. How could I have forgotten? …And are we sure they're not really related by blood…?

PUZZLE 1: Where's The Museum?

Take your time and think about the answer, or Flora (and the puzzle master) will be very disappointed in you...!

A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J (Need a hint?: 1 | 2 | 3)

(thanks to @justkillingthyme for beta reading, and several mutuals for puzzle testing!)

[littledeathdove]

Donna Beneviento headcanons

To take a break from writing my analysis on her and Angie 😋

(Bro she is so damn fine/pretty/beautiful basically all of the above, LOOK AT HER HANDS OMG, the elegance when she is making Angie wake back up?? I need someone to match my feelings when it comes to this woman omg)

Okay now that I’m done with my little…rant there, let’s get onto these headcanons 😈🙏🏾

Donna is mute, well selectively mute since she much rather prefers to speak through Angie. When she does speak through her own mouth it’s usually just to speak to Mother Miranda since she does see the woman as her mother in some stance.

Now Donna does sometimes speak through her own mouth to other people, but when this happens it’s usually before she can even stop herself. Usually it’s in situations where Angie went dormant and Donna can’t wake her up in time to get out the words she needs to say.

She only speaks a couple of words before she transfers into speaking through Angie.

Donna does love the enjoy of the kill but she hates thinking about her first actual murder which was the gardener. His death makes Donna withdraw into herself even more since he was one out of the two people kind to her. And she did grieve his death at the time since she did have good intentions when she gave him hallucinations.

Donna is actually very mean inside and that’s why Angie taunts people, mocks them, and even makes insults. It all because Angie is acting out the personality trait that Donna doesn’t show through herself. Which is because she tries to make herself seem as much of a shadow as she can by not speaking.

Donna never puts a bad/ugly feature on any of her dolls and if she does mess up and accidentally causes the doll to have such features, she never gives them life through sharing her cadou. The reasoning for this is because Donna she doesn’t want to make her dolls, things she sees as a part of herself, suffer by making them live with such a face like she had to.

Donna ideal lover would likely be someone playful since she definitely loves games as much as her doll, Angie does. A boring person would just make her bored with them as a person but if you are interesting enough, you’re lack of playfulness will make up for it.

Even though Donna is murderous she isn’t sadistic. Donna doesn’t find pleasure in making people feel pain but she does find it funny most of the time. Speaking of finding pain funny, Donna prefers to watch her victims suffer from the hallucinations she gives than any pain she gives them. Pain always equals to her playmates soon dying way more sooner then they would if she just inflicted nightmarish hallucinations on them.

If Donna did have a childhood friend that protected her from bullies and all of that but somehow drifted away from Donna growing up (likely when Donna isolated herself), Donna would become possessive if she got that friend back. By that I mean like you wouldn’t be able to have anyone else as the main person you give your attention to or else she would withdraw again.

I also believe that you would get a horrific hallucination about said person the next day if you were to come back to her property.

I have more headcanons but I just want to get out of my drafts before they sit in here for another 4 days 😞

[absolutebl]

Why is the sound design in Thai bl so bad :'(((( (coming here after watching Kidnap)

I don't mean to generalise but the songs get grating on the ears after a bit

Thanks for hearing the rant hahah

The singing stuff:

In general there is a reason I have a blanket NO SINGING stance on Thai BL. And I mean everything from actors picking up guitars inside the show to dubbed to sound track. I used to say I had exceptions, well, one = Jeff. (I vastly prefer his English language stuff. And I htink there is a reason he sings a ton in English.)

But I've decided to be a rude generalist at this point: No singing.

I don't know if it's a conflict between tonal and non-tonal languages but the pitch always sounds off to me, not all along just often enough to constantly make me wince. I imagine it's challenging to sing and rhyme in a westernized musical structure when there are 5 tones in play, and those tones are required to have the words make sense - so that's what my ear is picking up on.

I should say I don't have this issue with Thai traditional music or folk music. That always sounds fine to me.

And I have had this issue with Mandarin (4) and Vietnamese (6) and some of the other tonals (when they are doing westernized music structures). I've never heard Cantonese (9!) sung as a western pop piece - I imagine that would sound insane to my brain.

I always assumed it was a me thing. But if you have a certain sense of pitch, and were raised in a non-tonal language structure, that might be what you're wincing about.

Or I could be totally (tonally) wrong, music is not my area of expertise by a long shot.

Now if you mean the generally poor quality of the sound design? That's a money, equipment, and personal issue. Thai BL often skimps on things like sound, wardrobe, makeup in the arenas of budget and talent.

Taiwan, Japan, and (of course) Korea tend to be a lot better with their sound crew and production teams (even on the lower budget stuff).

[sugarcubetikki]

In my previous post, I got several reblogs and comments where people said that they didn’t dislike Maddie because of her relationship with Caitlyn but more because of who she is as a character. The reasoning people gave was because of what she said about Vi being “one of the good ones” in Act 1 of this season.

Let me remind you that in this scene Maddie is telling Vi about how Caitlyn basically hyped her up to all the enforcers and how she’s become somewhat of a legend amongst them. She then goes on to say that things were rough after Marcus betrayed them and that she’s glad that there are still good ones left.

There seems to be a lot of debate what these “good ones” in question refers to and I think the obvious interpretation here is that Maddie is talking about enforcers as that is the context of their conversation and it makes sense as she mentioned Marcus’ betrayal right before that line.

However, there’s another take going around that became fairly popular after Act 1 and I also believe the last scene with Maddie banging her chest in support to Ambessa’s proposal fuelled this take.

People believe that rather than enforcers, the hidden meaning behind the line was the Maddie was referring to Zaunites. And that she was calling Vi one of the good Zaunites.

Hence, this makes Maddie prejudiced towards Zaunites and that was why she was willing to bang her chest in support to Ambessa.

I am going to be honest I did consider this as a possibility after watching Act 1 purely because we hadn’t seen enough of Maddie yet and I didn’t know what to make of her quite yet (I wasn’t extremely passionate about the fact that she was a Zaunite hater and had dubious motives I was just very neutral about her and considered that this could be a possibility).

However, after watching Act 2 and hearing some of Amanda’s comments about her character I do believe I have no reason to actually believe she has any ill intent to be honest.

I was actually surprised to hear that people still strongly hated her character and believed she was prejudiced towards Zaunites even after this act. I personally do not agree with stance and that’s why I feel the need to voice my reasons as to why.

If she was prejudiced against Zaunites and supported Ambessa, why would she encourage Caitlyn to call the whole thing off?

And yes, the key word here is encouraging. She didn’t sound like she was pressuring Caitlyn to do something and make a decision. Her wording was soft and supportive.

She was encouraging Caitlyn as a leader and empowering her rather than having any ulterior motives on her own.

If you contextualise this scene with Maddie banging her chest in Act 1, I would like to point out that Maddie wasn’t looking at Ambessa.

She was looking at Caitlyn. Based on her actions being nothing but supportive to Caitlyn in Act 2, this makes complete sense.

Also, with all this context, let’s go back to the “one of the good ones” scene.

With Maddie being supportive in all these other scenes, she’s also speaking in a similar manner here with Vi, she’s encouraging her and let me remind you that Vi considers Caitlyn’s proposal to become an enforcer after Maddie’s little pep talk.

It makes little to no sense to interpret this as a double messaged “I hate Zaunites” when she doesn’t seem to be shown to act that way in other scenes. Plus, she was talking about enforcers and Marcus before too. It’s also the way that the light falls on her in this scene too that characterises her as a ray of sunshine (could be a death flag too though haha).

Also this makes me think of what Amanda said after this Act about Maddie being the angel on Caitlyn’s shoulder whilst Ambessa was the devil in episode 4. This light could also represent a halo.

Maybe she could still have dubious motives and some of you are right for mistrusting her but that is different to outright hating on her because some of her scenes could be interpreted as her hating Zaunites (as I’ve explained above I personally do not see it and so far it does not make a whole lot of sense). Anything could happen in Act 3 so I am not going to comment on the future of her character but I do not as of now get the impression that she has any ill intent towards Zaunites.

Haha. And that is my hot take on Maddie as a character. I never really thought I’d write two posts linked to this character but for some reason fandom discourse just fuelled me to share my opinions. I know Maddie is a character that is currently striking a lot of controversy due to being a perceived threat against one of the main ships on this show but…I encourage you to be open-minded and understand that this show tries its best to make their characters seem as human as possible. Caitlyn is human for needing to fill the void in her heart that Vi left. And Maddie is human for loving Caitlyn even if it’s idolisation on her part or an innocence that makes her struggle to see that Caitlyn is uninterested. That is human.

I’d just like to clarify that you are allowed to disagree with my opinions and I am also open to the possibility that I could be wrong about Maddie and Act 3 could make my post look foolish. But I’m still going to post what I believe as of now and how I interpreted her character and I hope you’ll consider my viewpoint (feel free to share yours too. this is an open discussion. thank you!)

[themongrelcatcamehome-blog]

i am trying to break your heart pt. 3

Hello! Here's part 3.

x

__________________________________________________________

Synopsis: Over a month has passed since Caitlyn and Vi ended their relationship, yet Caitlyn couldn’t find a reason to celebrate Jinx's capture. Despite it being a huge day for Piltover and the Enforcers, Caitlyn only wanted to go home, but someone had another plans for ther.

Tags and Warnings: angst, violence, strong language, blood, smoking, drinking, suicidal thoughts, caitvi fight i'm really sorry y'all

____________________________________________________

Caitlyn didn’t move. She clutched her jacket tightly against her neck in shock. Sevika remained motionless ahead of her, the sounds from her mechanical arm growing louder.  

- Hello, traitor. Found your way back home?

Caitlyn needed to leave. At any moment a fight would erupt and she had no idea what to do. She couldn’t think. Her gaze darted between Sevika and Vi and she felt all the color drain from her face. She was trembling with anxiety. Sevika could expose everything to Vi at that moment and Vi would likely kill her. Caitlyn struggled to steady herself, feeling on the verge of fainting. Shame, disgust, and fear hit her all at once.

Vi activated her gauntlets, growling with fury and leapt toward Sevika. Before she could land a hit, Sevika’s mechanical arm detached from her torso a steel cable that wrapped around both of Vi’s gauntlets. Caitlyn ran forward trying to intervene, but Sevika’s human arm swung back planting a firm hand against Caitlyn’s chest, holding the commander in place.  

- Well, well, traitor. Looks like my toy is bigger than yours!

In one swift motion, Sevika yanked the detached arm back with a sharp pull. The gauntlets were ripped from Vi’s fists and clattered to the floor. Sevika flung them behind her, smashing everything on the table, sending items rolling over the mini fridge and crashing them into the far corner of the room. Vi crouched, regaining her balance.  

Caitlyn was terrified. Sevika was going to kill Vi right in front of her. What could she do? Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something to use against Sevika. She froze when Sevika completely released her mechanical arm. The massive device hit the floor with a thunderous crash. Sevika massaged her shoulder and said:  

- Come on, piggy. Fight me, fair and square.

Vi was seething with rage, her face bloodied with all the fight on the way to that room. Who knows how many people she’d beaten to get there? Caitlyn stepped between them.  

- Enough. Stop it! Violet, I’m fine. Just stop. - Cait, get out of the way. I’m finishing what I started. Ready to lose another arm, ugly ass bitch? - Vi, Vi... If only you’d arrived half an hour earlier! I definitely would’ve enjoyed hearing you talk crap!

Caitlyn turned to Sevika.  

- We have a deal, don’t we? Let us go. It’s over. - Cait? What deal? What are you talking about?!

Vi was confused, ready to destroy Sevika’s face. The adrenaline pumping through her veins kept her from noticing the tension in the room. Caitlyn ran her hands through her hair, pushing it all back and looked at the ceiling.  

- Violet, Sevika and I... Sevika wanted to strike a deal with me. A peace agreement in exchange for ending the brutality of our soldiers against her people... your people... We’ll focus on the barons instead. That’s it. - Yeah, piglet. Your girl and I got an arrangement indeed. But you and I can still fight if you want.

Vi was in shock. She knew Caitlyn had changed, that she was open to softening her stance on Zaun, but a deal? With Sevika? And why were Caitlyn’s clothes so dirty, her shirt torn like that?  

- Caitlyn... Did this fucking coward lay a hand on you? Tell me right now.   - No! I mean… No! No, she didn’t.

Sevika clenched her fists, rolling her eyes at Caitlyn. Their gazes locked and Caitlyn nodded slightly. “Please don’t say anything, please…”

- You two got thirty seconds to get out of my office. 

Vi was slowly piecing it together. Could Caitlyn have done it? Was Sevika low enough to force Caitlyn into sex for a deal? Vi’s mind was spinning. She looked down and noticed Sevika’s unbuttoned pants. Her stomach churned and her heart seemed to stop for a moment. The whole world stopped and Vi felt her stomach churn. 

- No... Please, no...   - Yes! No! Yes! Fuck you! Get out of my sight, both of you.  

Sevika was getting angrier now. One wrong move from Vi and she would snap her neck. 

Caitlyn took a few steps toward Vi, devastated to see her like this. What could she possibly be thinking? Did she assume the deal involved sleeping with Sevika to persuade her? Or that Sevika had forced her? Caitlyn could only manage to say:

- Let's go home, Violet.

With eyes welling with tears, Vi removed her badge from her waist and threw it at Caitlyn’s feet. Tears streamed down her face now.

- I’m already home, Commander.

Vi turned her back and left.  

Caitlyn was in shock, frozen in place. She quickly crouched to pick up Vi’s badge, her head spinning. She felt dizzy and began to cry. Sevika, now reattaching her mechanical arm, walked toward Vi’s gauntlets. She kicked one to try and break the hexcore casing, but it didn’t give. Picking up a cigarette, she leaned against the table.  

Caitlyn was on her knees, holding Vi’s badge in one hand and covering her face with the other, sobbing uncontrollably. She got to her feet and said out loud she needed to go after Vi.  

- Sweetheart, don’t be crazy. You don’t know your way around Zaun; you’ll end up getting yourself killed. Let her go, she’ll come back. - Shut up! This is all your fault!

Caitlyn spun toward Sevika and threw Vi’s badge at her. Sevika dodged it effortlessly, took a long drag from her cigarette and set it back on the table.  

- Too soon to argue about our relationship, fox. But you can put all the blame on me, of course.   - Stop calling me that! Stop calling me animal names! I’m not your pet! My name is Caitlyn Kiramman! And you’re under arrest!  

Sevika watched Caitlyn in her state of utter despair, tears streaming down her face. For a moment Sevika almost felt sorry for her. She stepped toward Caitlyn and pulled her into her arms.  

- Let me go. Let me go...   - I’m not letting you go.   - Let me go, damn it! What the hell! I hate you!   - I hate you too, Commander.

Sevika kissed the top of Caitlyn’s head as the woman buried her face in Sevika’s chest. Caitlyn’s tears soaked Sevika’s tank top. Sevika wanted to stroke her hair, say something. That strange flutter in her stomach returned. Sevika wanted to protect Caitlyn. She felt a sting in her nose at that moment. If she stayed any longer...  

Straightening her posture, she took Caitlyn’s face in her hands, wiped her tears, and said:  

- Commander, pull yourself together.  - Take me home, Sevika, please...  

Caitlyn’s voice was so soft and faint that Sevika had to lean in to hear her.  

- Yes, I'll take you home. I’ll take you to her.

Caitlyn shook her head in refusal, but Sevika didn’t notice.  

She found the idea of Vi being her home, her safe haven incredibly beautiful. Caitlyn’s thoughts raced: she also found Sevika’s perspective on the two of them breathtakingly beautiful too.

The commander wondered if she should confront this sentiment now.

“Why the hell do I find Sevika interesting? Is Vi my safe haven, my home? If she is, why am I in someone else’s arms?”

Her train of thought stopped suddenly. What would she tell Vi? Or worse: what would Vi say? Could she bear to hear it?  

Caitlyn felt like she was drowning. Her throat tightened, her heart raced uncontrollably; she wanted to disappear. She wanted to turn back time and undo everything: resist the Council’s pressure, avoid joining Jinx's task force, stop Vi from breaking up with her, never have sex with Sevika... The lump in her throat grew, almost choking her. She wanted to scream, to break things. What had she done with her life these past few months?  

She remembered the breakup.  

Things had been strained since their conversation about joining the task force. Vi had become increasingly distant, both physically and emotionally. She canceled their plans, stopped going to her place and avoided Caitlyn at work. Caitlyn would go to Vi’s apartment as it was the only way they would see each other. Vi avoided physical affection as much as possible, eventually giving in, but things felt different.  

The last time they slept together—Caitlyn realized now—Vi avoided looking at her face. She preferred positions that kept her turned away. 

The lump in Caitlyn’s throat eased as she took a deep breath in Sevika’s embrace.  

“How could I be so blind? She was suffering, needed my support, and all I could say was, ‘Do what’s best for your heart.’ Am I an idiot? Of course I am! How didn’t I see it?”

Caitlyn’s head started pounding again. She turned her face to Sevika:  

- No, take me to Piltover.

Sevika released her from the embrace. She walked over to her guard who was still unconscious, checked his pulse. The man’s nose was broken, his face soaked in blood. Sevika crept to the door and saw more guards lying on the floor, bloodstains on the walls, shattered lamps and broken pieces of wood.

Sevika wanted to ask if Caitlyn wouldn’t rather go to Vi but secretly felt pleased when the commander chose Piltover.  

- Your girlfriend caused a mess; it won’t be that simple. My men are down in the corridor... I can’t leave Zaun.   - Please, Sevika.

Caitlyn’s tone was firm, but her voice was breaking now. Sevika noticed Caitlyn was blinking slower and that her eyes were red. It was nearly midnight, the city lights glowing and smoke danced outside the window. Sevika walked back to the table and grabbed her phone. She dialed a number, and the person on the other end picked up on the second ring.  

"Scar, are you at your place?

I’m lying down with my son, Sevika. What’s going on?

I need you to check the perimeter of my house. Now. There was... an altercation. I’m not sure if it’s safe to leave.

Altercation? A fight? Are there casualties?

I don’t know. Gregor is unconscious in front of me.-

Are you hurt? I’ll bring a group and let you know if it’s clear—  

I’m not hurt. I need to escort C... someone to Piltover."

What? Who? This late? What’s happening, Sevika?

Scar, just trust me. 

I’m risking my neck just talking to you, my friend.

Scar... Look, bring your guys, make sure it’s all clear and meet me in the attic or just call me. Got it? I’ll be there.

Understood."

Scar hung up. He was a Vastayan and leader of the Firelights. Scar was a good-hearted man. Heavily political. As someone tied to Zaun's barons, Sevika wasn’t welcome in the organization, often seen as untrustworthy.  

Sevika adjusted a piece of her mechanical arm and a sharp part extended. She turned to the commander.  

- Caitlyn, stay behind me. Only move when I move, got it? 

It was the second time Sevika called her by name. Caitlyn wasn’t sure anymore if she regretted sleeping with Sevika, but she didn’t want to think about that now. Amid the chaos in her mind, she felt grateful to be with her and held on to that feeling.  

She stepped forward, her foot landing in Gregor’s blood. She jerked her foot up in surprise, but continued.  

- Okay. I’m right behind you.

Sevika and Caitlyn stepped through the door. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vi was searching for drinks in her old room in Vander’s bar basement. She scanned the shelves where small flasks were usually hidden but found nothing.  

She knew countless ways to reach that room and had gotten in on her first try. Everything was in its place, though covered in dust. Her face was bruised, her body aching all over, she was almost certain she had a broken rib and a sprained ankle. Kicking off her boots, she collapsed onto the couch.  

She tried taking off her jacket but couldn’t manage it—now she was certain about the broken rib. She punched the couch arm in frustration, the wood clunking against something metallic. She reached into the gap between the armrest and the seat, feeling around until her fingers closed on a square metal object.  

“You sneaky bitch. You thought you could hide something in my house?" Vi thought.  

The sneaky bitch was Sevika—the only person who would know how to reach the kids’ old hideout from Vander’s time.  

She shifted her body to the side, lifted the cushion and pulled out a metal box. Inside she found an unlabeled bottle filled with a light brown liquid, completely full. She uncorked it, the sharp smell of alcohol stinging her nose and making her eyes water. It was definitely Sevika's stash from Bilgewater.  

Vi drank for ten seconds straight, the alcohol burning her throat, each swallow making her chest ache worse. Lowering the bottle to her knee, she thought:  

"You fucked my girl, I drink your expensive booze, asshole."

It didn’t come out as satisfying as Vi had hoped. Her heart was heavy, an unbearable anguish settling over her. She felt weak. The alcohol was kicking in; her head spun lightly. She wanted a cigarette but had quit smoking since moving to Piltover. Reaching into the couch again, she searched the box for cigarettes but found none. She felt tears welling up.  

“Why is this happening to me? How did I end up in this mess? Everything I did for her didn't mean a thing, and now I have nothing... I have nothing!" Her thoughts turned into words as she began talking to herself.  

"Nothing! I have no one to talk to. All my friends are in Piltover and all we ever talk about is sports anyway. The only person I could talk to came to Zaun... to my house... To… 

Claggor, if you’re here... 

Mylo, don’t you dare laugh. 

P... Powder."

Vi stopped. Warm tears streaked her battered face, stinging her wounds. She drank more, the liquor dribbling on her lips. The worst feeling crept over her now—the one she hated most, the one she had silently endured for months.  

Moving to Piltover and permanently becoming an Enforcer had been her way of staying close to Caitlyn, of regaining some control of her life. Caitlyn was all she had left. Jinx was erratic, speaking nonsense on the rare occasions she showed up. Her little sister had become a symbol for Zaun and Piltover’s number one public enemy. Powder was gone; only Jinx remained.  

Vi wanted to start fresh, to own her decisions. Her greatest dream had been to take over Vander’s bar—not as a hero like him, but as a humble presence. But being a hero would be so bad? Everyone in Zaun saw her as Vander’s extension. They were both fighters; they were both strong, both trustworthy.  

Vi sobbed harder, her body shaking with each breath.  

"What was I thinking, putting my life in her hands? That... that bastard. That’s what she is. I can't even curse at her from a distance! My life revolved around her, for her. I’m such an idiot."

Her thoughts quickened. She was thinking of everything she had avoided these past months in Piltover. Whenever such thoughts arose, Vi would call Caitlyn, visit Caitlyn, hug Caitlyn... Every day of her life was an internal battle. She woke up feeling hopeless and forced herself to get through the day, everyday.

Vi worked out at the precinct gym, ran, took vitamins. She adopted a kitten from the park. Donated money to the Firelights. Made sure her squad was kind to Zaunites. She was promoted in just one month for her exemplary service. But whenever she felt she might break, she took sleeping pills and carried on the next day as if nothing had happened. Caitlyn would be there for her.

Her soldiers showing her sports updates. Her kitten rubbing against her. She clung to even the smallest things. 

"Today I have to work because it’s recruit Watson’s birthday," she’d think.  

"Today I must get up because it’s the opening of the new district school. Caitlyn hates public events.  

I can’t sleep too much because I need to go to the bank.  

There’s a good movie on tonight.  

Tomorrow would’ve been Benzo’s birthday.  

Vander wouldn’t want to see me like this."  

Every day, Vi sought a reason to go on. When she couldn’t find one, she’d tell herself she had to stay alive to be the Enforcer who captured Jinx—even if she wasn’t part of the task force or Zaun’s affairs anymore. She wanted Caitlyn, the after all commander, to have the final say when that day came.  

She never told Caitlyn that but prayed she wouldn’t have to.  

Thinking of it now, she laughed bitterly:  

"Why would Caitlyn make me arrest my sister, for fuck’s sake? Damn it..." 

When those thoughts weren't enough, Vi thought of Caitlyn.  

"She needs me.  

Her mother died because of me.  

She doesn’t know how to fight—I’m teaching her... Guns don’t solve everything.  

I love her so much; I can’t stay like this.  

I’ll get up, call her and her voice will calm me down. She knows how to make me feel loved."

It was exhausting being Vi.  

“I'm exhausted" she thought.

When she wasn’t searching for reasons to live, she was searching for Caitlyn.  

Now, in the dim, dusty room, Vi was terrified. She was sinking into the couch, drunk, crying, utterly alone. The weight of guilt and despair came crashing down all at once, consuming her. Her body trembled, every sob ripping through her heavily battered face.

She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling, and let out a wail—half scream, half cry. Her voice echoed through the empty space.  

"She watched me lose everything. She knew she was all that I had. How could I be so stupid? She had everyone, and I had only her."

Vi wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing a mix of tears and blood across her face. Her vision blurred as red streaks filled her line of sight. For a moment she thought she was dying, but then she remembered—the blood from her injuries was mixing with her tears.  

It reminded her of when Powder fell into a stagnant moss-covered pond as a kid and panicked, thinking she was "seeing green." Despite herself being in a shitty hole, Vi let out a hoarse laugh through her sobs, a brief break in the storm of emotions. Then she lowered her head again, shoulders slumping as the reality of her situation weighed down on her.  

“If... If I hadn’t left that day... If I’d stayed... If I’d asked for help. 

Vander, you were dead! 

Because of her! 

Because of me! 

She... She was just a kid, dad. 

I was her big sister. I shouldn’t have left her alone. 

I punched her, dad. And I left.

I left because I was angry, but I—"

Her words broke off, choked by another wave of sobs. Vi clutched at her chest where the pain was the sharpest. It wasn’t just the broken rib—it was the ache in her heart, pounding relentlessly. She couldn’t take it anymore.  

The room spun around her, the furniture tilting like a ship in rough waters. Vi gripped the edge of the couch, trying to steady herself, but she fumbled knocking the bottle to the floor. The glass shattered, releasing the sharp, stinging scent of alcohol into the air.  

"Great," she muttered bitterly, the shards glinting in the dim light.  

“I'm in this big stinky boat and I can't even drown.”

She clenched her fists. She patted her waist instinctively, looking for her belt and holster, but they were gone—lost in the chaos of her earlier fight. Her phone was back in Piltover and the radio on her jacket was off to avoid detection.  

"I ran..." Vi whispered to herself, the realization hitting her like a freight train.  

She had run across four districts, from Piltover to Zaun, desperate to find Caitlyn. The transport that had brought the messenger to warn her about Caitlyn’s disappearance only went as far as the industrial zone where Piltover ended and Zaun began. From there, she’d sprinted, not stopping to think or breathe.  

"I left everything behind... The doors unlocked, the windows open... I came running for you, Caitlyn."

Vi curled into herself, her trembling fingers clutching the silent radio like a lifeline. She turned the dial, hoping for a signal, but there was nothing. Just static.  

The sound it made was too much, filling the room and her buzzing so loud in her head. Her ears buzzed, her stomach churned. She thought she might vomit and leaned forward, her hands braced on the coffee table. She spat, trying to clear the thick saliva pooling in her mouth. False alarm.  

Vi sat back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when a creak of old wood shattered the silence. Her head snapped toward the door, heart pounding as adrenaline surged through her battered body.  

Caitlyn stood in the doorway.  

Vi’s breath hitched.  

- What are you doing here? Get the fuck out.

She barked instinctively, her voice low and cold.  

She wanted to run to Caitlyn, pull her into her arms and tell her everything she just said to no one but the books and the ghosts. But she hated herself for it. Her body reacted before her mind could stop it, every nerve screaming to reach her as she always did but she didn’t move this time. She stared straight ahead, clenching her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms.  

Caitlyn’s hands trembled as she stepped forward cautiously.  

- You... You’re hurt. Let me help you.

Caitlyn said softly, her words filled with warmth.

Vi’s jaw tightened, her gaze fixed on the far wall.  

- No. Get out of my sight. You’re the last person I want to see. Leave.  

Caitlyn froze, her heart breaking at every word. She bit her lip, trying to hold back tears, but they spilled over anyway.  

- Vi, please... I— - I said leave, Kiramman!

Vi roared, the sound reverberating through the room. 

But Caitlyn didn’t move. 

Vi grabbed another bottle and started drinking. She was shaking. She didn’t want Caitlyn to leave. What was that feeling? How could she want the presence of someone who had hurt her so much? Vi wanted to stop shaking, wanted to keep her voice steady, but she was crying again. 

It takes time to process that the people we love can also be the ones who hurt us. 

Caitlyn walked to the small railing that led to the lower part of the room, where the couch Vi was sitting on was.

- Violet… My lov… Please. Let me take you home. There’s a vehicle waiting for us two streets up. You need to... - Is it Sevika’s car? Or yours? Oh no, yours was left at the precinct while she kidnapped you! Damn. She kidnapped you and is still giving you a ride? Imma tell the world how generous Sevika can be. - Vi, it's a patrol car from our side. You need to see a doctor, you’re all fucked up – - So are you and I’m not nagging you about it, am I? - I... I’m not as hurt as you... - Ha. Alright, didn’t get the joke.

Caitlyn was sleepy, tired and didn’t realize that Vi meant something else.

- Violet. For everything sacred, come with me. You’re bleeding. - “For everything sacred’? Do you even know what’s sacred to me? - It was just an expression, Violet. I just want to help you. - Get out of my sight and you’ll be helping me. I shouldn’t even be talking to you. How the hell did you get here anyway?

Caitlyn took more steps toward the couch, descended the short flight of stairs and went around. She stopped behind Vi, reached out to touch her hair, but pulled her hand back.  

Vi’s hair was dirty with blood and mud. Caitlyn reflected on how much she loved that hair, how many hours she spent stroking it, smelling it. Her eyes filled with tears. How could she get through all of this? She tried to think of something to say on the way there.

___

Sevika and Caitlyn successfully got to the attic. The path was clear. The orders were well known by her guards: never take a fight near the attic, it was Isha’s hideout.

When they got there they barely spoke, Sevika went to check on Isha.  

The commander was relieved she wouldn’t have to be alone with Sevika much longer.  

She smelled something strange in the small room, a scent of gunpowder and paint. She realized she was hungry and cold. The attic only had a couch, a TV and behind it a door with more stairs. Sevika had entered and gone upstairs, Caitlyn was on the couch.  

Less than twenty minutes passed and the Zaunite’s phone rang. Scar said everything was fine and that Enforcers were guarding near the factory. Sevika went to Caitlyn to update her and Caitlyn took the phone from her hand: she told Scar to send a message to an Enforcer for her.

She didn’t think before speaking. Of course, it didn’t make sense to ask such a thing to a Firelight using Sevika’s phone. She felt like an idiot.

Scar stayed silent on the call and Sevika took the phone back, said she had a plan and hung up.  

She put her hands on her hips, looked at the ceiling and ran her hands through her hair.

- You really want to die today. What the hell was that? You want to screw me over? - I... I didn’t think, I'm sorry. - If you’ve forgotten who you are, I...

Sevika didn’t want to be rude to Caitlyn at that moment. She just wanted it to be over. She was tired and scared of Isha waking up from the noise. She continued, now speaking as quietly as she could:

- ... I can’t afford to forget who I am, okay? I have to be sharp and ready all the time. I can't afford to make mistakes. Everything I’ve done to bring you here will cause me problems for at least a month. And I don’t even remember why I did this shit. Oh, I remembered. Great! We have a deal! Nice ass! I’m really trying here. Appreciate that. - Sevika, I just want to go home. I appreciate your efforts, yes, but I– - Yes, you just want to go home and I just want to be able to think straight without worrying if you’re going to break at any moment. Can you please not break? Can you act like a grown woman again? 

Caitlyn was angry now. She felt like an idiot, but Sevika was exaggerating, she thought.

- Sevika, I really appreciate your efforts. You’ve gotten yourself into your own mess, not my problem. I just want to go home. Sorry again for saying that crap and taking your phone, okay? I’ve said it already, just open the door and I’ll leave, I’ll handle the rest myself.

Sevika was too exhausted to argue. She was only thinking about Isha. She took a deep breath. She hadn’t heard half of what Caitlyn said, she only focused on the end of her sentence. She said:

- You want to leave Zaun on your own? Go for it. You know the way out. Just step over the bodies and open the door. Good luck.

Sevika pointed to the hatch that led back to the corridor near her office. She was drained from Caitlyn’s presence. She no longer cared about stopping the commander from leaving alone. She simply didn’t care anymore.

- I’ll go. Thanks.

Caitlyn got up from the couch and tried to head toward the hatch. Sevika took a deep breath. She thought about all the implications of that action. If Caitlyn got hurt, kidnapped or something worse happened, hell would soon fall on Zaun and the responsibility would be entirely hers. She grabbed Caitlyn by the arm.

- Okay, commander. Ooookay. You’ve worn me out, congratulations. You’re the first to do it. Listen to me. Shut up and listen. I know who’s guarding the factory today, it’s a little shit who pisses himself every time he sees me. I’ll go to him, okay? I’ll go there. I’ll figure out how Vi got here alone and why no one came after her. I’ll blame the militants and make that piece of shit understand the misunderstanding I’m about to come up with. - Sevika, you lost me at the last bit, but listen... Vi is the only Enforcer allowed to use hextech equipment even though she’s just a sergeant. She has authority, she must have given the orders. They won’t listen to you. - My God, how disgusting. There’s no blood running through those veins, I take back what I said.

Sevika really hated the fact that Vi was an Enforcer. In her mind it was the biggest absurdity of all. She didn’t care about her relationship with Jinx—despite having strong opinions about the two of them making amends, she didn’t care that Vi hadn’t taken responsibility over the bar—she loved working there anyway. But she hated the idea of someone she saw growing up becoming part of the biggest institution that oppressed her people. Caitlyn sighed and said:

- Sevika, give me a break. Did you hear me? You won’t be able to convince any of my soldiers. You need another plan. - Commander, your soldiers are corrupt. Sorry to say this so bluntly. Most of them do business with me. I’m the one who authorizes their comings and goings. I know every slut that sleeps with each one of them in the brothel. - Spare me. I mean, don’t spare me. We can talk later about that and I'll investiga-- - Commander, are you asking for my number or something? Do you want a full report?

The atmosphere between them was so weird. A few minutes ago, Caitlyn was relieved by Sevika’s absence and Sevika no longer cared about the commander. Now they were planning Caitlyn’s “escape” together as if the world weren’t collapsing.

- Is this how you are all the time? - Only when I’m in a hurry and want to sleep. Anyway, I’ll convince your little soldier. Even if it means beating him up. - Sevika, you don’t need to.. - I do. I do need to. Whatever it is, I need to because I can’t take it anymore. We had sex once and now I’m responsible for you? What the hell is this? Listen closely, okay? - You really are a jerk. - Yes, I am and you loved it. I’m leaving now, and you’ll wait in the office, understood? I won’t go back there, I’ll take a shortcut and get back in here another way.

Caitlyn looked at the skylight in the attic. There was an opening.

- Okay. - Great. Stay in the office. Count an hour and leave through the front door. The street will be empty because I’ll send all the drunks, beggars, and other Zaunite fauna somewhere else. You’ll turn right. You’ll see red lights, do you know what those establishments are or do I need to explain? - It’s the brothel, I know. - Alright, smartass. Go to the second door on the right. If I’m not mistaken it’s kind of green-ish. Next to that door there’s an alley, cross it. If anyone’s there, ignore them.

Sevika spoke quickly, Caitlyn tried to keep up. She remembered she had already been to the brothel with Vi. Sevika continued:

- When you get out on the other side, you’ll come face to face with The Last Drop. It’s Vander’s bar, now mine. It will be full, of course, but no one will notice you.

Sevika took her cloak off and handed it to Caitlyn.

- Done. You’ll look like a prostitute with shame or some follower of the dickless priest.

- What?! - Forget it, it doesn’t matter. To the left of the bar, one of my guys will be waiting for you. - How will I recognize him? - He’ll come to you. - Okay. - You’ll do whatever he tells you. - If he touches me… - He won’t touch you, not like that. No one messes with my things.

Caitlyn looked at her with a sharp, curious and angry stare. She thought: “What did she say? She just called me ‘her thing’?” Caitlyn was so angry.

- I love that face you just made. Ready?

Sevika really enjoyed getting on the commander's nerves.

Caitlyn gave up. She just wanted to go home.

- I’m ready.

The two of them left, one at a time, through the hatch.

As they approached Sevika's office door, Caitlyn grabbed the zaunite’s arm.

- Promise me you won't go after her. - Why the hell would I do that? I have a lot of stuff to do, honey. - Promise me. - I won't. I don't care. Maybe she will come after me.

Caitlyin tightened the grip on Sevika's arm but quickly let go of it. She was right.

Sevika looked at Caitlyn with a smirk.

- Touch me like that again, it felt nice. - Sevi– - Kitten, your pitiful cry-baby is probably drinking her sadness away now in her old bedroom. She won't come after me, she has no reason to. But maybe she’ll come for you.

And at that very moment the idea of ​​going after Vi seemed too obvious to ignore. It made perfect sense: she was now sure that Vi was at her old place, where else would she go? And Caitlyn could definitely find a way to access the basement. But the commander couldn't let Sevika see through her plan. So she decided to speak in a way that disguised her intentions well.

- Stop calling Violet those names. Just stop with all that bullshit, it’s exhausting. Your mouth is not worthy of Violet’s name. You don’t even know her.

Sevika started laughing. How adorable. Caitlyn really was something. 

This part of the plan worked.

- Now that's a feral kitten. Stop trying to be mean, you don't know how. Get in.

Sevika pushed Caitlyn into the room. The passed-out guard wasn't there anymore. Vi's gauntlets were gone too. Sevika noticed Caitlyn searching for them with her eyes.

- The gauntlets are safe with the Firelights. Vi is a big fan of their work. They'll probably return to her soon enough. I’m not dumb, I wouldn’t steal hex stuff. - Good to know. Goodbye.

Caitlyn turned her back on Sevika in an abrupt move. 

Sevika hissed, she put her thumb on her lips. Caitlyn was staring at the window.

- Turns out you do bite. Give me a call if you ever get bored and maybe I'll answer. See ya, hot stuff.

Sevika left. 

Caitlyn couldn't wait to hear the front door shut. She knew exactly where to go next.

________

End of part 3. I'll post with part 4 soon and that'll be a wrap. Hope you loved reading this story as much as I loved writing it.

A little note about the dialogue between Cait and Vi:

Vi said "Imma tell the world how generous Sevika can be" and I know it's a bit corny, but I couldn't help it. Sevika's personality was inspired by Renata Glasc, I really wanted to use this line, I'm just a girl xD See ya'll soon!

[uncanny-tranny]

I was told by someone that I couldn’t call myself a transsexual because I had to go off T for health reasons and I haven’t had any gender affirming surgeries yet since I’m poor and disabled. Is this true? What are like, the requirements to be a transsexual? /gen

The requirements to be transsexual: to identify as transsexual

This might seem too... straightforward, but genuinely, medical transition is so complex and individual that it's worthless to make it so ridged. There are so many reasons you have to stop some aspect(s) of transition, even if you didn't want to! That doesn't mean you never transitioned or that it's "lesser" now that you stopped.

Genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, I, for one, couldn't care less if you call yourself a transsexual. To my mind, it is as political as it is an identity. Being a transsexual isn't just about your identity but also your place in this world. "Transsexual menace" isn't just a cutesy little slogan but a political battle cry. It can be an attitude about changing sex, about the lucid and plastic nature of people, and so much more.

The word transsexual was made and popularized, honestly, with the idea that we are separate from others. I think we can take this back and make it ours. We can start by actually making it our own, not the cis world's own.

[jtypology]

why enneagram 9 is anti-intuitive 🍪

i often see a lot of infp/infj 9s, and while i understand why this is — enneagram nine is often watered down as "kind" and "conflict-avoidant" — i believe that such a combination is actually impossible.

sources :

"character and neurosis" by claudio naranjo

"the complete enneagram" by beatrice chestnut

"psychological types" by carl jung

"gifts differing" by isabel briggs myers & peter b. myers

❝ intuition is also completely lacking ; that is for him just the realm of crazy fantasy. ❞ — p. 252 "character and neurosis" claudio naranjo

firstly, let's address the trait structure of the enneagram nine. in "character and neurosis," the first thing that naranjo outlines is "psychological inertia," which is described as "a paucity of inner experiences" and "a defeaning to his or her inner voices." with this, we can infer straight away that enneagram nines are mostly, if not completely, switched off from their inner worlds. but what does this actually mean? well, it basically implies that nines tend to stray away from abstraction and introspection, a characteristic that is integral to their existence. moreover, due to "robo-habit boundness" and "distractibility", they are "bound by custom and regularity" because they approach life with a strategy of "not wanting to see" and therefore not seeing, which leaves them with "an over-simplification of the outer and inner world, a diminished capacity for psychological insight." simply put, nines are attached to what is conventional, what is familiar, what is set in stone.

however, neither introverted intuition nor extroverted intuition percieve things simply as they are. where enneagram nine does not wish to see, intuitive types possess "a perceptive and penetrating vision." according to isabela briggs myers' description of the intuitive dichotomy, they are "imaginative at the expense of observation", having "no taste for life as it is, and small capacity for living as it is." intuitives are "willing to sacrifice the present", which then contradicts the sensing way of being reluctant to "sacrifice present enjoyment to future gain or good." how can an archetype that is dependent on literal-thinking and the lack of abstraction also see objects as potential for exploration or manifestations of hidden meaning? it does not make sense.

furthermore, the narcotization of the enneagram nine directly opposes introverted intuition (the dominant infj cognitive function) because it looks for patterns, meaning and/or metaphor (basically everything that lies beneath the surface) as opposed to the impression itself — yet, enneagram nines focus directly on the impression.

although this post is about nines being anti-intuitive, since i've mentioned narcotization i may as well state that because of it, enneagram nines experience the deadening of feelings, which is another reason as to why they're incompatible with types that are introverted feeling dominant (specifically infp in this context, but also isfp as well).

nines are sensory focused, naturally inclined toward their surroundings and the physical world, they find comfort in it all — but intuition literally suppresses sensing.

🍪

[snekdood]

me, on the one hand: its weird to gatekeep people identifying with characters just bc they don't share their same race

also me, upon watching a video of someone wanting the saiyans to be in ssj form 24/7: you just want them to be blonde with blue eyes all the time bc you're mad that otherwise you can't project on to them since they're likely asian 🙄

[medicinemane]

The problem with people who are "right" because they insist they're right, and the only way to be right is to simply perfectly follow their every dictation on the subject unquestioningly is this...

Ok, let's just take it as a given that you're right... the problem here is that if that's what's right I'm afraid I have to dig my heels into being wrong. If you are as righteous and just as you insist you are then I've got no choice but to be the villain because I can't stand what you're saying I'd have to do to be good

Shockingly I even think it's wrong, which is odd because we've already defined it that you're inherently and unassailably right... yet here we are

Worst part is there's a lot of these things where I'm not even full stop against it, I actually might be on their side if they could stop and address a couple of issues I consider kind of important... but they won't, because they're morally right and don't have time for addressing nonexistent issues I'm clearly just dreaming up

Undoubtedly right they are, the defect must surely be my own... and yet here we are. Vile and wicked as it might make me, I still can't just go along with you

[dimeadozencows]

There are a lot of great tags on this post, and a lot of different and unique takes on gaster which i always love to read :DD but i dont think i managed to evoke what i wanted to with this drawing

We know that gasters aware hes in a video game, but so many characters in undertale are aware of that already. One of the things that make gasters situation different is his ability to look at our world directly. He's aware that we've been looking for him and trying to understand what and who he is, he knows these last few years were dogshit for everyone on earth and mentions it in his pre chapter 2 tweets, he knows our life outside of our tempering with these worlds

And unlike other self aware characters in undertale, he doesn't experience time and the resets. He "lives" outside of what we can control. He truly remembers all that we've done while being unaffected by any of it. So while other self aware characters (im mainly thinking of sans and flowey) know that theres a person behind frisk whos controlling time, they're affected by our choices and (for the most part) can't judge it from an outside perspective

Sans is mostly unaffected by our inputs, and he does manage to judge us in a very impactful way, but he can't be a completely uninvolved judge. He will (understandably) react to us killing his brother and on certain neutral endings, as much as hes trying to hold his unfazed facade together, he's struggling with the thought of how much of his happiness you took away, even if he knows a reset will likely happen and everything will go back to the way it was. Understandably! This game is his world. Even if he knows its just a game that gets reset its still his home and the people he loves are its residents. He can't be unfazed by everything. he is nice to us when we're nice to him, and he hates our guts when we give him reason to. And he will always forget us after a reset and react to our actions only on the current run, not being able to know who we were to him before.

And flowey acts as the embodiment of this games message, he is our mirror and, in his words, he is who we will become if we exhaust this game of all it has. He exists to judge us, but he can do so only from his own point of view. He's judging our actions, our choices in this world as if we we're stuck inside it the way he is, which we aren't. That's not to say his judgement isn't impactful, that would just be. incorrect to say lol. But he can't interpret what he sees us do in a fully unbiased way because he's in a very similar, but not identical, situation to us. While we can enter his world and play the kind way, we do get bored and try new things, like picking the other, more rude dialogue option, or killing a character to see what a person who loves them says. even if we don't fully want to. Just like he said! But while we both went through the same process, there's a difference between us. We can leave. We don't have to grow apathetic and detached from these characters. We don't have to start seeing them less as people and more as repetitive lines of dialogue. If we're bored, we can leave. Play a new game. Come back when we miss them and see those familiar lines of dialogue and feel nostalgia, not dread. And he knows that we're a person that has a life outside of this game. At the end of pacifist he desperately tries to make us stay. But he doesn't see what our life is like, he cant see what we do with our days outside of his world, so he can only see us leave and return and leave and return, and judge us through his (flawed) world view and based on our actions within a world we enter for fun.

Thats not to say they're not written well? They're the fucking coolest flowey and sans rule.(i think the info dump proves my stance on them) I'm just saying that even if they know about us they cant fully judge the situation from a neutral point of view because they have a limited world view and they're affected by our choices, which gaster (as of now) isn't

And we don't know a lot about him. But we do know that he knows hes in a video game, that he knows we control his world and its linear time, that he lives outside of that linear time and is unaffected by our inputs, that he used to experience time linearly before shattering, that he had people he cared about in undertale, that he saw everything all of us did when playing undertale, that he is kind to us in the current deltarune chapters, that he knows of our lives and what we go through, and most importantly in my opinion, he knows that we (fans of utdr) use fiction as escapism

We've had characters judge us and berate us for our misdeeds, who are fully justified in doing so since we did hurt them directly. But they also cannot see the situation from an outside perspective. No character in undertale sees us separated from their world, as a person who lives a life outside of tempering with undertale, to them we are just a god who takes control of their reality, all they see is a cruel person who entered a world just to destroy it, or give everyone freedom and then just take it away in a second, they don't see how small their world is in comparison to ours, they'll never be able to understand that our actions in their world are (for the most part) inconsequential to us. they cant see us beyond the red soul.

so imagine with me for a second, a character within the game who is not only aware of the fact that he's in a game and that there's a player who controls time, but who also has the ability to SEE the players' lives through the internet. A character who has the ability to see the horrors of everyday real life and how much people struggle with it, and see that some deal with those struggles using fiction. And not just any fiction, the fiction that the character itself lives in. A character who knows that these great beings, much bigger than him, use the thought of him and his world to get through the trials and tribulations of their lives, hardships that are horrific in completely different ways than his world ever had. A character who knows that they find comfort indulging in his world and finding everything it has to offer, because whatever his world has is much more pleasant than theirs.

He knows that to us his world is just a video game, one that remembers and we're not above consequences in, but still a video game. One of the most common complaints i hear about UT is that it is preachy in its message, and players shouldn't be berated by it for playing certain routes or making certain choices (but one of the points of the game was that there is an alternative way to complete it so why choose violence BUT that is a whole conversation in it of itself and this is long enough already)

So what if the game understood? What if the character who created this game, this world, knew that it is just a game and didn't judge the player? What if the character accepted that he is only fiction and saw the beauty and purpose within it, and how he can use his position in this situation to connect with us and allow us to escape our hurt for just a little while? What if he saw the hardships we've endured and empathised with us? What if he understood that we don't view his world as real like he does and we just use it for our fun, to escape, the way a child happily plays with a toy? What if he felt for us, and encouraged it?

Deltarune (initially) not having a way to really hurt and kill people makes me think that while gaster wanted us in this world for whatever his larger goal is, and wanted us to indulge in it, he didn't want us to hurt anyone. But he saw what we did with the previous world and knows that warnings, consequences and the visible and audible hurt of the characters won't stop us (in fact, it will encourage us), which is something he accepts and understands. it's said that his own curiosity brought him far in his endeavours so perhaps he even understands our curiosity and why we just have to see what would happen, as morbid as it is in universe

But i love that we (without the help of noelle, a game breaking pro) cannot kill anyone. He didn't even give us that option. He isn't completely detached from these worlds since he used to live within them. He still views the fictional characters in the game as real while also knowing us, our lives, and the way we interact with the characters. And he loves and cares for both.

Letting us escape into a nicer world while keeping the residents of it safe from us.

And that is of course assuming he isn't tricking us into a false sense of security to teach us a lesson, and isn't lying to our faces every time he talks to us kindly and thanks us. but i think that after an entire game and a whole cast of characters who taught us lessons and took control away from us and showed us what an asshole we are for playing the game in an unkind way.. i think it'll be a really nice thing and a breath of fresh air to have a character who knows what they and their world are to us on a realistic scale, see why we sometimes act so detached from its ways, and understand that yeah, it is just a game. And we do the things we do as a means to escape. And that it isn't necessarily a bad thing to interact with games in this way (to me that sounds like the most self aware character ever written). But also see the characters within it as real (since he used to be amongst them) and protect them from our worst.

Truly and wholeheartedly loving and caring for both his family and the person who barely hesitates to strip them of all their joy before murdering them too.

Kissing the hands of the man who killed his son

I have endured what no one on earth has ever done before

I put my lips to the hands of the man who killed my son

[bugpill]

If I see any more misinformation about Kamala Harris to dissuade people from voting I will explode.

1. She did a lot of work as a prosecutor to dismantle the system. When she was DA in San Francisco she was labeled as being “soft on crime” which she in turn claimed was “smart on crime”. Harris made a program called Back on Track so that low-level nonviolent drug offenders could enroll in school rather than doing jail time. She has believe and continues to believe that supporting people prevents crime far better than criminalizing people.

Yes, she put people behind bars. I know she called herself the “Top Cop” and I fucking hate that. However, the number of people who served time in jail was significantly reduced due to her program. She’s not a saint, but she tried to reduce harm as much as she could in her position. Since then, she’s called for even more action in terms of legalizing marijuana and I believe recently fully endorsed it publicly.

2. She is not transphobic. Harris backed the state of California when it tried to deny gender-affirmation surgery to a trans prisoner, but as attorney general, she could not deny the state’s Department of Corrections as a client of hers. Essentially, she had no say in the denial of surgery herself, as she had to represent the department’s interests over her own. Once she realized what they were doing, Harris actually worked behind the scenes to get that very policy changed so that any inmate who needs that care could get it. Additionally, she has lead efforts to put an end to gay and transgender “panic” defenses in criminal trials.

3. Kamala Harris is Black. For some reason, people like to say that she isn’t, and that she’s Indian and pretending to be black… for what reason? Depends on who’s telling the lie to begin with. Kamala Harris is Black and South Asian. Her father, Donald Harris, is a Black man who was born in Jamaica. Her mother, Shyamala Gopalan, was born in India. Speculating about her race with so much evidence towards the contrary is so wrong. If anyone tells you shit about this, just send them her whitehouse.gov biography.

4. Harris (reportedly) has different opinions than Biden on Palestine. Whether or not she makes a clear stance against Israel, I don’t know. That hasn’t happened yet, but I’ll remain hopeful until further notice. She reportedly tried to push Biden towards “a policy on Gaza that was both more humane and in alignment with international law” but wasn’t listened to. The only reason why this is one of my points is that I’ve seen a lot of people stating that she is totally behind every decision and stance Biden made as president, which isn’t necessarily true. I don’t want to give her credit for being pro-Palestine if she isn’t, just to be clear. That is not what I’m trying to do here.

I desperately want her to stand for a free Palestine. I cannot make the promise that this will happen. All I can hope for is that her policy will be less harmful than Trump’s- who wants Israel to “finish the job” and promises to “throw (pro-Palestinian protestors) out of the country”.

Conclusion: the fact of the matter is that people make shit up all of the time. Sometimes it’s propaganda they accidentally absorb, sometimes it’s deliberate misinformation. People often take rumors as facts, and we need to be more vigilant about it. What I know is that some people will do anything for you to not vote tor Kamala Harris, when in reality she’s our only hope here.

Is Harris my favorite person ever? Absolutely not. Does she share my exact views and opinions? Nope. Would I rather vote for someone who more aligns with my personal views? Yes.

Is voting for Harris the only way to stop Donald Trump and Project 2025? Yes.

Disclaimer for the blog: To be 100% transparent, this is only my (Fanya’s) opinions. Although this is a shared blog, I cannot claim that my stance and my voice speaks for everybody involved in this blog. Some members are not American. Some may have different takes. All I know is that all of us are anti-Trump. Don’t go after my friends if you have beef with what I’m saying. I’m trying my best here.

[zyhkoo]

☆ everything i know about love

dick grayson and jason todd x fem!reader (separate)

they drunkenly propose

a/n: i was inspired by this fic my friend showed me, i hope you guys like this one!

Jason todd

Jason never understood the fuss about marriage. Just a piece of jewelry and some vows, and you're suddenly yoked to someone for life. No thanks. He had more important things to worry about than tying the knot. Besides, he enjoyed his freedom far too much to be tied down like that.

Why commit to one person when the world is full of interesting people to meet and adventures to be had? Jason preferred to live life on his own terms, without the constraints of a ring on his finger.

His secret identity as Red Hood only added to the list of reasons why marriage didn't fit into Jason's plans. His life was dangerous and unpredictable, and he couldn't risk the safety of a loved one by involving them in his shadowy world. Plus, balancing a marriage and a secret life as a crime-fighter would be nearly impossible. It was better for everyone involved if Jason continued his nocturnal escapades alone.

Surprisingly enough, Jason found himself softening his stance while dating you. It wasn’t like he suddenly became a relationship enthusiast overnight, but he couldn’t deny the subtle change in his perspective.

Though marriage still seemed like a far-off possibility, Jason realized that a fulfilling relationship didn't necessarily require a ring. He was content with the way things were, cherishing the connection he had with you and the moments they shared. The idea of a wedding might still make him a bit nervous, but he knew what mattered most was the happiness you shared in the present.

As the buzz about your relationship grew, the questions about when you were getting married started to come up more frequently. Your friends would throw subtle hints during conversations, or nosy family members would outright ask, expecting a firm timeline. Jason felt the pressure, too. The constant reminders of marriage were like a nagging voice in the back of his mind, pushing him to make a decision he wasn’t ready for. The pressure was mounting, but Jason stubbornly held onto his reservations.

Then, it hit him. Wedding fever.

The last wedding the two of you attended was your best friend’s. You couldn't believe it when you accidentally caught the bouquet at your best friend's wedding. It was just a silly tradition, nothing more. At least, that's what you thought. Little did you know, the effect of the bouquet would hit someone unexpected: Jason.

Suddenly, the mere touch of that bouquet ignited a strange fervor within him. A fever for the idea of marriage, something he had vehemently opposed in the past. Jason watched as your friends and family playfully teased you about catching the bouquet, but his mind was elsewhere. He stood there, dumbfounded, as if the sight of you with that bouquet had somehow changed everything.

His thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and newfound desire. How could a simple bouquet have such an impact on him? He was the guy who never wanted to get married, and now he was practically salivating at the thought. What was happening to him?

When he had too much to drink, you dragged him back to the hotel room.

You gently pulled Jason into the hotel room, his body leaning heavily against yours as the alcohol dulled his senses. You decided to undress him so he'd be more comfortable, unbuttoning his polo shirt while his breath tickled your neck. But as you reached the last button, Jason suddenly leaned forward and pressed a desperate, hungry kiss against your lips.

You were caught off guard by his sudden move, but you couldn't resist the passion behind the kiss. You returned his kiss, your lips responding tenderly and gently meeting him. As he pulled away, your heart skipped a beat as Jason looked into your eyes, his words slurred but his gaze steady. "Marry me," he said.

Here he was, the man who had once been so skeptical about marriage, proposing to you in the midst of a drunken stupor. You couldn't believe what you were hearing, you were absolutely baffled. You stammered, trying to find the right words to say. “What?” you muttered.

"I said, marry me," he repeated as he gripped your wrist. “M’ serious," he insisted, as if trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you.

You couldn't help but stand there with your mouth open, in disbelief at the words that were coming out of his mouth. This was the same man who had been adamantly against the idea of marriage just a few hours ago, and now he was drunkenly proposing to you! Jason's lips grazed against your fingers, his breath warm and words slurred but still filled with a sweet intensity. "Come on," he muttered, clinging to your hand. "Just say yes."

You could feel the nerves in your voice as you struggled to find the right words. "Wow, uh...I'd love to say yes, but maybe we should call it a day first. Let's talk about it in the morning, okay?"

Jason's eyes softened as he looked at you, his drunken state making it difficult for him to comprehend your words. But he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "In the morning," he repeated, his voice slurring. "But m’ serious, I do want to marry you." You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I know you're serious," you said softly, gently stroking his hair. "We'll talk about it in the morning, when you're sober, okay?"

Dick Grayson

It all began with a simple birthday surprise from Dick– a beautiful white cake that bore an uncanny resemblance to a wedding dress. Unintentionally, it planted the seed of wedding fever in Dick's mind. Slowly, the realization dawned upon him, sparking a subtle yet determined desire to make his love for you official.

Dick found himself wrestling with how to broach the subject. While you had occasionally mentioned a future together, marriage had never explicitly entered the picture in your conversations. He pondered how to bring up the idea without catching you off guard.

Late one night, after an evening of bonding with his siblings over a few drinks, Dick returned to the cozy abode he shared with you. In his grip, he clutched a single daisy, its delicate white petals gently swayed with each movement. As he stepped inside, he revealed a paper ring resting on his palm, its simplicity belying the depth of emotion he wanted to convey.

You looked down at the paper ring in Dick's hand with puzzlement in your eyes. "What is this?" you asked. His heart thumped in his chest as he saw your confused eyes. He took a step closer, the petals of the flower trailing across your skin. A gentle smile played on his lips as he slurred, “It’s a ring, f’ course.”

He held the ring up, offering it to you. “I want to…” he trails his words. “You want to..?” you continued his sentence. He looks into your eyes, the paper ring still offered in his hand. He’s taking in the sight of you, wearing nothing more than a pair of sleep shorts and one of his old t-shirts, with your hair messy on your head.

“I… I want to marry you,” he says quietly.

You replied quickly, “Sure.” you said casually. A hint of surprise flickered in Dick's eyes. He had braced himself for a range of potential reactions, but this one had caught him off guard. Dick's mouth hung open for a moment, and for a split second he was at a loss for words. "Sure?" he repeated, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and a touch of confusion. He looked at you in slight surprise, his mind processing the unexpected simplicity of your response.

“Yeah,” you replied as you held his hand. “Let’s get married.”

His mind raced, trying to process the unexpected simplicity of your response. He’d been expecting a little bit more discussion, maybe even some tears, yet here you were, casually agreeing to his impromptu proposal. He stared down at you, a mix of surprise and elation flooding his expression. He looked at your hand holding his thumb running against the back of your hand.

“Just like that?” he chuckled, a bit breathlessly. You only smiled softly, “Why wouldn’t I marry someone like you?” you told him. “Let’s get you to bed, you’re gonna have a massive hangover tomorrow.”

He looked down at the paper ring on his hand, then back at you. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as he took your hand in his, and placed the ring upon your finger. “Now it’s official,” he chuckled, looking down at the simple paper ring on your finger.

[snaileer]

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

[bynux]

"don't vote for Harris or you're supporting genocide" "voting blue is still voting for fascists" Then what else do you expect us to do?

Here are some options y'all seem to insist on and why they're fucking stupid:

Vote Third Party :: Until we have ranked-choice voting (and probably even if we did have ranked-choice voting), it is practically impossible to make a 3rd-party candidate viable. There's not enough of the population that's far enough from moderate to give up their "safe" blue vote for some "revolutionary."

Don't Vote At All :: I'd prefer to pick my enemy. If I'm going to be working in spite of the government, or even against it in some ways, I'd rather the people I'm working against not already be targeting me for being queer, for example. If my options are "bad" or "much, much worse" I'm gonna pick "bad" and try to improve things from there.

Violent Revolution :: It's a cosplay power fantasy in the same vein as the Right-wingers looking for a reason to shoot protesters. Assuming you even have enough people organized and enough firepower to pull that off in the first place…have you prepared a plan to keep the innocents alive and safe? Are you sure you can keep supply chains for food and medicines intact? Are you sure there will be resources available for the disabled, the scared, the young and old, those who won't be able to fight and still need to be taken care of? Turns out revolution is ugly and causes a lot of undue collateral damage. Are the lives "saved" really going to outweigh those whose lives will be upended and destroyed? It's not like a newly-toppled, unorganized country will be able to do anything about Israel/Gaza, so you're just hurting and killing far more people than you're saving.

As for the power you do have to better things (and make Leftism more viable as a political stance in the US)?

Work at the level of your local government. If you're in a small enough town or neighborhood and think you have what it takes, run for local office. Be a local face of the left wing; you're far more likely to sway a small town to your views than the whole country, and each small town with a socialist-leaning government is a dot on the map for larger-scale viability, and you can help keep your community safe while trying to build up in scale.

Build community so we can keep each other safe if worse does come to worst. Push mutual aid initiatives, help at food banks, grow produce to donate to those in need, apply to work at your local free clinic, empower local businesses whenever possible so that if there is a socioeconomic collapse, you and those you love aren't left completely without resources.

Protest, and make it disruptive. You can be disruptive without being violent: graffiti, blocking roads, encampments, sit-ins, to name a few examples. Create inconveniences so it gets people's attention whether they like it or not.

Above all, FUCKING VOTE BLUE. You're choosing your enemy. You get to help decide if the government we're working in spite of is run by milquetoast neoliberal war hawks who do, on some rare occasions, actually make things marginally better…or full-tilt Christo-fascists who want to kill some of us for kissing people with the same genitals as us. There aren't any other options that are going to be picked. It sucks, but at the bare minimum we can pick the option that isn't going to actively murder us while we try to build up viability for a candidate who won't sell out brown people to an ethnostate.

If you aren't doing at least one of the things above, then don't lecture me about how I keep myself and my community safe. I'd love to see a United States (or some future iteration of it) that acknowledges the sovereign rights of indigenous peoples, that doesn't fund genocide, that provides healthcare as a basic human right, that doesn't meddle in every other country's business. But if we are to see that, let alone help that happen, we need to survive this next presidential administration.

Edit: y'all have lost reblog privileges. If you wanna screenshot this and have stupid unnuanced opinions OFF of my post, be my guest. Just leave me tf alone.

[swiftdove]

bleeding crimson

pairing: rio vidal x agatha harkness x fem!reader

summary: no matter how much you try to run from the truth, the road leads you back onto the path, forcing you to confront the thorns from your past.

content: angst, tension, knife-play, dark actions, slight smut

a/n: this is my first time ever writing a part 2 i feel like this is a very monumental moment for me

part 2 to collateral damage

Later that night, you had found yourself leaning against the trunk of the tree, willing yourself to sleep. Yet, despite your best efforts, the earlier conversations seeped into your mind, forcing out any rational thought. 

It wasn't right, how easily they managed to pull you back under their spell. They knew exactly which buttons to push to get what they wanted, whilst your skills had rusted over time. The way they treated you; it was as though they'd never left. It was almost comical, how little they'd suffered over their abandonment of you, how they expected everything to be the same as it was. You knew they were wicked, downright evil, but you hadn't expected them to be this selfish. Your sympathy for them was fading, as was your will to fight against their seductive charm. There must've been something grievously wrong about you to have even looked their way. Perhaps it was the mutual damage, the way you all understood each other so perfectly. Perhaps it was that that let you excuse their past actions. The idea that maybe, just maybe, you could fix them.

You had snapped right out of that attitude when you had seen Agatha act so apathetically about Sharon's death. It may have been the one thing that could have finally let you move past her. But earlier today, when she had tried so desperately to save Teen, redeemed her. You hated that about her - the way she flickered from evil to morally gray. 

And Rio, who balanced out Agatha's wickedness. You felt it, how her eyes always lingered on you. But never for longer than she did with Agatha. 

The reasons against them were stacked, and yet there was still that one part of you that wondered about what a reconciled relationship with them would entail. Most likely more damage to your already fragile mind. Then again, you'd always found that pain turned you on.

The sound of footsteps jolted you out of your train of thought, immediately waking you up from your half-asleep state. 

"Who's there?" you called, failing to mask the fear in your voice.

"Your worst nightmare," a demonic voice resounded, which you instantly recognized to be one of Rio's attempts to humour you.

The witch came into sight, accompanied by the last person you wanted to see right now.

Despite your pronounced hate for them, you couldn't deny that they looked perfect - especially under the glow of the moonlight. 

"What are you doing here?" you murmured, smoothing out a wrinkle in your blouse. 

"Couldn't sleep," Rio replied truthfully, eyeing you up and down. Her gaze finally rested on your hands, where you were nervously playing with your index ring, a habit you'd picked up years ago when she'd first bought it for you. 

However, your attention was directed at Agatha, who had adopted a villainous smirk. Something had changed in her tonight; behind her icy blue eyes hid macabre intentions. It was almost comedic how you still felt like you knew every serrated, damaged inch of her soul. Old habits died hard, you supposed.

"What is it, Agatha?" you asked, failing to hide the tremble in your voice. 

"Oh, nothing," she replied, her tone lilted, "it's just ironic, I suppose. All that 'I'm not yours' bullshit and defiant attitude..."

You tensed as she neared you, noticing the way her eyes glinted at your recoiled stance. In a split second, her fingers wrapped around your throat, trapping you in a chokehold.

"... when we both know why you came."

Her grip tightened, her veins becoming more defined as your breathing shallowed.

"Agatha," Rio admonished, prompting her to relax her grip. 

A soft cackle rang through the air as Agatha stroked your cheek with her free hand, reveling in the way you trembled under her touch.

Flashbacks of the life you'd had with them echoed in your mind, memories of your past encounters hammering at the walls of your skull. It was always the same. Agatha, skillfully inflicting the sweetest torture imaginable on your body, whilst Rio sat back and watched. The mocking, saccharine tone Agatha adopted whilst Rio carved their names into your flesh. The way they forced you past your limits, the long, euphoric nights. 

"So helpless," she jested, dragging out her words. "Now, where have I seen that before?"

Your reply was barely audible, interrupted by a hitch in your breath. "Stop."

Ignoring your plea for mercy, she pulled up your sleeve, releasing her grip on your throat. The faint outline of the words 'RIO' and 'AGATHA' were only just visible, having faded after decades of neglect. Agatha swiveled around, jerking your arm out for Rio to see.

"Would you look at that?" Rio marveled. She tutted softly, before brandishing her dagger. A sadistic smile tugged at her lips as she held it to your throat. You flinched away from the cold metal, beads of red decorating the blade. Your attempts to run away from the dagger were foiled when she swiveled you around and secured you waist with her free hand, the other keeping you in place.

"You were so jealous of Rio earlier, weren't you, pet?" Agatha taunted, relishing in the way your eyes narrowed at the use of her pet name. "You wanted me to leave a scar, didn't you?"

If you hadn't had a blade pressed against your throat, you would have called her out for twisting your words. But, in this instance, you couldn't help but shrink back from their towering presences.

Snorting at your silence, she continued with her onslaught of cruel jokes. "Why so silent? Cat got your tongue?"

"There's a blade to my throat, if you haven't noticed," you snapped, causing Rio to add pressure to your skin.

"There's that nasty attitude again," Agatha proclaimed gleefully, circling around you. "How long has it been since you've been properly punished, sweets?"

You recoiled at her use of the word 'punished', your gaze steeling. "Stop," you murmured, failing to mask the quiver in your voice. "I'm not going to indulge in your sick revenge fantasy."

"Aren't you?"

Rio's voice cut through the tension in the air like a knife through butter, her fingernails digging into the side of your waist. Agatha smirked maliciously, tilting your chin up with her calloused fingers. 

"I don't think you have much of a choice, pet."

Satisfied with your silence as a response, she trailed her fingers down to your blouse, roughly unbuttoning it. She pinched at the peak of your breast, relishing in how it hardened at her touch.

"So sensitive," Agatha murmured, twisting it sharply. A small yelp escaped your lips, reprimanded by a sharp cut to the throat. Hot blood trickled down the wound, staining the witch's fingers.

"Agatha -" you gasped, only to be cut off by the sound of Lilia's voice echoing down The Road.

"They're coming. We have to go."

Glancing at the direction of the voice, Agatha withdrew her hand, causing you to sigh in relief. The sound didn't go unnoticed by the witches. Visibly annoyed, Agatha grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at her.

"This isn't over," she threatened, before dramatically whisking her cape and walking away. Rio followed, but not before dragging her dagger over your throat again. When you didn't budge, she looked over her shoulder, glancing at you expectantly.

"Come on," she said, taking ahold of your arm. "We have to go."

As you trailed behind the witches, the warm, crimson blood trickled down the small wound in your throat, bleeding into the collar of your shirt. To anybody else, it would've just seemed like a simple cut, but you knew what it truly was. A symbol, of their claim over you. Hard, cold proof that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't escape their hold over you. And for some strange, demented reason, you found comfort in knowing that. 

The dynamic between you and them remained ever the same. Agatha and Rio, your sacred protectors, and you, a wolf in the clothing of a sacrificial lamb. And despite your pathetic attempts to hide it, you knew that they understood exactly who you were to the very marrow of your bones. 

That was what scared you about them.

[dollarbils]

believe what you want | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your ex girlfriend, billie, shows up at your party, but fails in expressing her intentions.

warnings. fighting, glass/ blood kinda, degrading, smut, strap

masterlist

the music echoed in the hallways of your house, reminding you of the shit show going on downstairs. originally you’d planned for about one hundred people, but someone had obviously tipped your bouncer because you found yourself hosting a crowd close to five hundred people.

you were outside on the phone, desperately trying to reason with your security guard who’d seemingly disappeared. something about not being payed enough for a party of five hundred.

“fuck i’ve gotta go.” you hurriedly shoved your phone in your pocket, following the sound of broken glass coming from inside of your house.

“what the fuck happened?” you pushed your way through the crowd before you reached the sight of the black haired girl on the floor, shattered glass surrounding her. she was engrossed in an ongoing fight between her and a tall man, one you’d quickly recognised to be your soon to be ex boyfriend. and another man in a brown jacket, spitting insults at the both of them. you didn’t care to understand the situation.

“billie?” you shouted but to no avail, she couldn’t hear you, neither of them could. you texted the dj to tell him to cut the music. when he did, everyone went silent, huddling around the scene, various pulling out their phones to record.

“fuck.” she breathed when her eyes met yours. you reached your hand out to help her up, and her eyebrows furrowed. she studied your expression, attempting to figure out how mad you were, and wether she should engage with you or not.

“hey, go take care of her i’ll clean this up.” your friend brushed past you and you mouthed a thank you when the music started up again and everyone turned away.

“hey, look, i’m so-” her words tumbled out in a cloud of regret but you cut her off.

“shut up.” you pulled her arm, gesturing for her to follow you to the bathroom. on your way you caught sight of the bouncer and waved for him to come over.

“i’ll pay you whatever you want to be payed just get that guy in the brown jacket out of here, please.” he nodded and billie shook her arm out of your grasp. you glared at her in an effort to convince her into coming with you.

“i’m totally fine.” she huffed, when you raised an eyebrow. mocking her subtly.

“you’re bleeding, idiot.” she rolled her eyes and followed you to the bathroom.

“no need to be so rude.” she sat herself on the toilet as you fumbled through the cabinets, finding your first aid kit.

“you crashed my party.” you retorted, in disbelief. she’d clearly woken up and decided to be sassy today.

“you didn’t invite me.” she smirked up at you, but her expression fell when you shoved the kit into her arms, and made a stance to leave.

“you’re not gonna help me?” she chirped, somewhat teasingly, it only irritated you however.

“nope.” your hand reached for the door handle but her words halted your movements again.

“at least keep me company?” she pleaded, and when you turned to meet her, she was genuine.

“what’s your problem, billie?” she froze, not having expected to be called out so abruptly.

“huh?” it was a stupid ‘huh’, she was testing your patience.

“you crash my party, start a fight with my boyfriend, and then expect me to be nice to you.” she squinted her eyes, clearly not liking the accusation.

“you insisted on helping me.” she was unbothered by your frustration, demonstrating her lack of compassion for you in the moment.

“can you believe i didn’t want you to bleed on my white carpet?” sarcasm coated your words.

“i just think you wanted some alone time with me.” she winked and you looked away, trying to calm down before you lashed out.

“why where you fighting with him?” you ignore her previous comment, leading her to fantasise about why.

“he started it!” she said defensively.

“i know for a fact that’s not true.” she stared at you for a second, before concluding it would be useless to lie.

“okay fine, but you won’t like it.” she admitted.

“let me guess, he was cozying up to another bitch.” she was visibly surprised by your deduction, questions raiding her mind.

“don’t ask.” you said simply.

“but-”

“no.” you ran the tap, splashing your face with some water, needing the heat in your cheeks to falter.

“he doesn’t deserve you.” she said quietly, the attitude in her voice now gone.

“don’t you think i know that? it’s none of your business, billie. besides, why do you care?” the question was one you were eager to learn the answer to.

“i just..” she trailed off, packing the first aid kit back up, having finished attending to her various cuts.

“what? are you jealous?” she rolled her eyes again, pissing you off even more.

“then what is it? what could possibly make you crash my party and try to fight my boyfriend.”

“stop calling him that.” she demanded, ignoring the rest of your words as she put her hands on either side of the sink, trapping you.

“so you are jealous.” it was more of a statement rather than a question.

“believe what you want.” her eyes were still and cold, pushing you away, despite her body inching closer.

“god you’re such a dick.” the insult didn’t faze her, she knew it was true.

“i know.” her hips pressed harshly against yours as her hand grasped your chin firmly, bringing her lips to yours. as she kissed you, her body swayed, making you aware of what was beneath her jeans.

“oh really? you just came here to fuck?” her eyes bore into your own, as her cold fingers danced closer to your pussy, resting on the skin of your lower stomach. she moved her lips to your ear, kissing the skin around it as she dipped her hand under your jeans, palming your clothed heat.

“i know you want it too, baby.” your gasps fell from your lips in a frenzy and her fingers brushed your clit, teasing the skin of your thighs momentarily. “tell me to stop.”

her lips wandered your neck, leaving the skin wet and bruised, sure to turn purple.

“say it.” she repeated as she sucked on yours skin and pinched the lips of your clit, the fabric of your thong doing little to stop her.

“tell me to stop.” she said another time before her fingers ran across the wetness surrounding your hole.

“fuck, billie.” you clenched on nothing, moving your hips in attempt for some friction.

“hm?” her fingers left you immediately and she brought them up to your lips as she watched you suck them.

“suddenly you’re so needy? pathetic.” your cries of protest were muffled by her fingers, as she shoved them further down your throat, gags following when your eyes watered.

“tell me what you want, mama.” her wet fingers left your mouth and gripped your hips, pressing you firmly against the sink. your sanity had returned and you refused to give her the satisfaction of your submission.

“no?” she tutted, disappointed but accepting it as a challenge. she spun you around so that your ass was pressed against the bulge in her jeans. a choked groan left you and she chuckled. she unbuckled her belt and unzipped her jeans before doing the same to yours. she lifted your legs and attached them to her hips, guiding your back into an arch as your cheek reached the cold mirror.

“billie, please.” the plea came out raspy, when you felt her fingers circling the skin around your thong, before she pulled it off completely.

“what? you want my dick?” her bottom lip stuck out, mocking you.

“mhm.” it was a defeated grumble and she grinned when she heard it.

“what makes you think you deserve it?” she pushed the tip close to your entrance, teasing you with it, watching how your body shuddered in response.

“come on, baby. beg for it.” she snarled as she continued to tease you with the tip of her strap.

“billie, pleasee.” you whined, desperation consuming your body. your mind was in a haze, all you could think of was her.

“there’s my girl.” she let herself sink into you the base of the strap hitting the place of her arousal perfectly. her grunts traveled to your core, a knot forming quickly, building up the deeper she thrusted into you.

“fuck, you look so pretty.” she gasped, as you bounced on her dick, your hands holding you up on the sink as she continuously rammed into you from behind. she slapped your ass a couple times and swiftly bit her lip when she saw your reaction.

“billie,” it was a loud whine, signaling you were close to your release. her face was buried in your neck as her hands held your hips firmly, preventing you from moving them.

“not yet, baby.” she reached for your face, and directed it so that you were facing the mirror.

“i want you to look at me while you cum. want to see how hard i’m fucking my girl.” her words sent you straight to heaven, fogging up your mind as your tears clouded your vision.

you snapped out of it when you heard someone call your name from outside the door. billie’s movements faltered but she quickly returned to her forceful thrusts when she realised who it was.

“scream for me baby, wanna hear you. want him to hear you.” she slurred, hitting your cervex as you clenched harder, a euphoria washing over you as you released.

“billie!” loud moans strung from your mouth as she helped you ride out your orgasm. thoughts of your boyfriend long gone.

“say my name again.” she pulled out of you completely before thrusting back into your sensitive pussy. your knuckles turned white.

“fuck, bils.”

“billie? i swear to god if you don’t open the fucking door right now!” his voice boomed from the other side of the door as he started knocking furiously.

“or what?” she shouted back, your lip about to bleed from your teeth sinking into it, trying desperately to stay quiet.

“where’s my fucking girlfriend?” he hit the door multiple times as he spoke.

“she’s in here with me!” your eyes widened and you met hers in the reflection.

“i don’t believe you.” he called and billie made more of an effort to make you moan, toying with your sensitive clit.

“believe what you want.” she smirked before pulling the strap out and forcing you onto your knees. the cold bathroom tiles creating goosebumps on your skin.

“open up.” she gestured to your lips as you took the strap in your mouth. you gripped her hips to control her thrusts, but you soon failed when she hit the back of your throat.

“so sexy,” she bit her lip, watching yours eyes water. her head fell back when the strap hit her clit and she started grinding on it. your groans were muffled by the strap which brought her to the edge, and she came. as she removed the strap you palmed your jaw, feeling a slight ache.

“still jealous?” you asked her and she chuckled.

“i wasn’t jealous.” she defended.

“clearly.” you muttered sarcastically, putting your jeans and underwear back on.

note: i really hope this isn’t dog shit and that you enjoy, i’ve missed all of you it’s been like 3 days