#i think i was just. straight up too fucking tired

[clini-calia]

It's tough. It is.

I'm a 30-year-old transgender man. From ages 16 to 23-ish, I was stuck in the alt-right pipeline, as well. I watched all that stupid bullshit with "feminists getting owned!!!1!" and what the fuck ever else. I think what pushed me towards it was how people on Tumblr used to be upset over EVERYTHING and would belittle me for my masculinity. I remember seeing a post that had a gif of a scene from some anime, I dunno which one, and it was of a naked girl laying down. People were complaining about her breasts not being realistic - it wasn't the size, it was that they weren't sagging or drooping, and that men need to be portrayed with rock hard dicks that never soften or whatever. But I was just sitting there thinking, "She's laying down... lol. Gravity is literally pushing her breasts against her chest, not pulling them down."

Anyway. Posts like that, but they got worse. I've had a lot of people on the left question my gender. "Why would you want to be a man? Women are the better choice." "I don't know why you'd want to do that, why give up your femininity?" I got into a small argument with a woman once on it, basically saying that it felt like trans men weren't really counted much and were largely ignored in the trans community, along with non binary people, who are usually just treated as "Women Lite." She got so angry that she told me, "You probably just wanna be a guy because you're too ugly to get one for yourself."

That's what tipped me over to the right for a bit. Until I realized they cared even less about me and that if given the chance, well. What happened on November 5th would happen, and they'd look for any excuse to strip me of my rights.

For cis, straight, white men it's not so easy to get out of. They're welcomed with open arms, there's no looming threat of having their rights taken away. So the pull of some "brotherhood" is more enticing. I was groomed and sexually assaulted by a man, but I was also sexually assaulted and groomed by a woman. I'll always believe that, no matter what, humans are just humans. White, black, gay, straight, trans, cis, man, woman - humans. And humans can be good, and they can also fucking suck. So I'll never say "all men are trash" or "all women are garbage" or anything like it ever again.

I see men's issues with mental health. I wish they would understand that it's the patriarchy that ultimately fuels those issues, and I wish some women would see how they also contribute to it. I see a lot of younger women these days placing men's entire values on their income, their careers, their appearances, what they can buy for them... I've seen a tweet of dudes just chilling and playing video games, showing off Pokemon cards or some shit and a woman quote retweeted it and said, "Men used to fight in wars. 🙄" Yeah. That'll stop toxic masculinity - tell men they're not real men unless they go to war and give up what makes them happy. Nice...

The patriarchy hurts women by enforcing the idea that they are to submit to men's wishes, stay at home, clean, cook, have babies. That's all women are allowed to experience.

The patriarchy hurts men by enforcing the idea that they are to overwork themselves, abandon any non traditional masculine interests and basic human emotions in favor of that work, and go to fight and possibly die in wars.

These ideals were put into place as soon as different tribes, races, countries and so on realized that, "Oh. There's OTHER types of people, and I want to be the most powerful and rich so they don't take what I have. Hmm. Better make sure women can only spit out plenty of babies and that plenty of those babies are men to be my soldiers and workforce."

If you're a man that supports any of those ideas, fuck you. If you're a woman that supports any of those ideas, fuck you, too. I'm sick and tired of generalizing people. I'm sick and tired of having to give up pieces of ourselves in order to put more money in billionaire's pockets. I'm sick and tired of men being told they're "too feminine" to be a man over being into stuff like sewing, baking, dolls, fashion, cozy games and I'm tired of seeing women being told they're "too masculine" to be a woman for being into coding, mechanical work, FPS games, science and I'm tired of seeing non binary people being told they're too much of one or the other to be non binary.

I'm tired of seeing men put down other men for having a fucking emotion other than anger or goddamn numbness. I'm tired of seeing women put down other women for being more attractive or not attractive enough. Just... stupid, petty bullshit that should have been over and done with decades ago, why the fuck are we STILL here?

It's tough. Because I love men and care deeply about men. But I also don't think we need to baby them and pat them on the back and say, "It's OK that you joined a fascist group of people that openly and proudly call themselves Nazis." And if a man ever tells me or any woman or AFAB person that it's "your body, my choice," I will grab the nearest blunt object I can get my hands on and beat the snot, shit, and blood out of them.

But I do think we need to work harder at not alienating our CIS, straight, white, male allies. We need to stop generalizing everybody and correct our language when talking about people. And we especially need to make it clear that the alt-right only seeks to divide for their own benefit, not for anyone else's. It's money and power that they want. Men, unless you are wealthy, you are just a vote and a pawn to them, nothing else. We need Democrats in the USA to stop rolling over and blowing kisses to Republicans in the hopes that they'll play nice and cut us some slack. It's not going to happen, not in meaningful numbers. And we NEED to crack down harder on alt-right online spaces. I don't give a fuck no more, get rid of that shit, I don't care if it's seen as too extreme or censorship, if you give these dangerous people a place to commune and feel safe with their harmful ideologies, then it WILL spill over into other spaces. And parents of young children: you need to BE BETTER at monitoring what your kids are seeing and doing online. Take it from someone who no-lifes online games: they are going into these spaces and saying heinous, horrible shit. They are being groomed, they are saying slurs and sexually harassing women, they are even seeking sexual attention and guidance from adults and strangers, and some of those adults are sick enough to take them up on their offers. One little trip into a few public instances of games like VRChat will be all the proof you need. I love the Internet, I really do, but I also see how its anonymity has done harm to us and has severely damaged how young people interact with each other, online and offline.

Anyway, sorry that was so long. I've been pissed the fuck off since I saw that Trump "won" the election and this shit has been on my mind for years, just even more so now.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[innieseong]

“Cat Warmer”

✧꡴ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦!𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝!𝐣𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✧꡴ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 - 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭)

✧꡴ 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠

✧꡴ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 - 𝟐.𝟏𝐊

✧꡴ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝐝𝐮𝐡𝐡), 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱, (𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬!) 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 (?), 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤, (𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭), 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐱

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 - 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝.

✢ - 𝟏𝟖+ , 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

✢ - 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧

𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

✢ - @innieseong

✧꡴ - 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - 𝐎𝐮𝐮𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐬. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞 :𝟑 (𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 :𝟑)

✧꡴

You and Jay had already planned this night for the past week. You guys were going to watch a movie, specifically Venom, eat Pizza and maybe even take a walk outside, but that was if the weather was perfect.

Let’s just those plans didn’t go according as planned.

Jay grunts as he tries to focus on the paperwork in front of him, the warm sensation of Y/N’s cunt wrapped around his cock making concentrating difficult. The way you kept clenching and slightly grinding against him was driving him wild and the way your breast were pressing against his chest. He almost let his wild thoughts win, but he wasn’t going to let you win so easily.

He keeps his gaze on his paper work, annoyed at your distraction. He gives your hip a warning squeeze. "Fuck, Y/N...you're making it real fucking difficult to focus here," Jay groans under his breath, clenching his jaw as he tries to keep his eyes trained on the documents in front of him.

The insistent squeezing and grinding of your pussy around his throbbing cock is pure torture, making it nearly impossible for him to think straight. Every movement sends jolts of pleasure coursing through his body.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his grip on your hips tightening possessively. Jay knows he should put a stop to this, send you on your way so he can focus. But the feel of your soft, warm body pressed against him, the slick heat enveloping his aching cock...it's just too damn good.

He bites back a guttural moan as you clench particularly hard around him.

You whimper softly as you keep your mouth shut, knowing that a moan will slip out. Your hole was so slicked and wet that you could feel every inch and vein of Jays cock and it was far too much for you. You always knew Jay was gifted in many ways but nothing can ever compete with how massive he was. Getting fed up and tired, you grind down on him again, full on knowing what would happen.

The room falls silent accept for the sound of your needy panting and the obscene wet sounds of his cock moving in your sopping pussy. Your arousal is thick on your thighs, dripping down them and onto the floor. His cock is stretching you wide open, the tip kissing your womb with every slow grind of your hips.

“Easy there, love... I know you're dripping for it, but I've got actual work to do here. Can't have you distracting me with that greedy little pussy of yours.” Jay growls in your ear, even as his hips give an involuntary jerk, driving himself impossibly deep.

The scent of your arousal is thick in the air, heavy and intoxicating. It fills his nostrils with each breath, a dizzying perfume that makes his head swim with desire. The paperwork blurs before his eyes as all his blood seems to rush south, gathering in his hard, aching cock nestled deep inside your hot, slick heat.

You decided enough was enough and leaned up and placed a soft kiss where his neck and shoulder connected. He lets out a low groan as your lips brush against his neck, your soft kiss igniting sparks beneath his skin. His hips twitch involuntarily, cock throbbing inside you.

Every instinct screams at him to throw the papers aside, bend you over the desk, and fuck you senseless right then and there. To pound into you with wild abandon until you're both gasping and shaking, seeing stars. But he grits his teeth and forces himself to stay put, determined to get this work done before giving in to his baser urges.

“Fuck, Y/N...” he breathes, voice strained with restraint. “Why can’t you be good for me? Hm?”

One hand slides up your thigh, fingers digging into the supple flesh possessively. “Once this is over... I'm going to bend you over this desk and fuck you so hard, you’ll feel me for days... Just sit here for 20 minutes and I’m all yours, yeah?”

You hesitate before nodding slowly.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “Just stay put for me, yeah? I almost have this done...”

Twenty minutes feels like an eternity as you sit there impaled on your husbands thick cock, your arousal dripping steadily down his shaft Each passing second is agony as your body aches for more, for the friction and pleasure that only his hips moving against yours can provide.

You try to distract yourself by watching him work, admiring the way his muscles flex and shift beneath his shirt as he scribbles away at his reports. The way his brow furrows in concentration, those full lips pressed into a thin line as he fights to maintain his focus.

But all it does is make you want him more. Make you wonder what those lips would feel like trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, your stomach... Make you imagine those strong hands roaming your body, squeezing and caressing and bringing you to the brink of ecstasy over and over again.

By the time the twenty minutes are up, you're practically vibrating with need, your core clenching desperately around his cock as if trying to pull him deeper inside. He sets his pen down with a soft click and looks down at you, his piercing brown eyes rake hungrily over your naked body, drinking in every curve and swell as he finally sets down his pen. The anticipation has been building for so long, the heat between you almost unbearable.

He stands swiftly, large hands gripping your hips and easily lifting you up. With a firm turn, he bends you over the desk, your cheek pressed against the cool wood. His calloused palms skim over your sides, down to your hips, holding you in place as he nudges your legs further apart.

“Look at this perfect ass”, he purrs, giving your ass a firm smack, the stinging slap echoes through the room and you can't help the needy whimper that escapes your lips. “Gonna fuck you so deep, you'll feel me at the back of your throat.”

He presses his body flush against your ass, his hard length throbbing insistently against your slick folds. Hot breath ghosts over the shell of your ear as he lines himself up, the swollen head of his leaking cock nudging against your entrance.

"Beg for it, Y/N," he growls, fingers digging into your hips. "Beg me to fuck this tight little cunt."

His hips roll in a slow, teasing grind, the thick ridge of his shaft dragging along your wet slit. Your body trembles with the effort of holding back, your hands gripping the edge of his desk. You're so close, you can practically feel him inside you. All you have to do is beg.

“Please, Jay. Please fuck me...” You pant, pushing your hips back against him desperately. “I need it so bad... Need your big cock stretching me open, filling me up, I'm begging you. Fuck your slutty little wife hard and deep. Ruin me for anyone else, Make me yours!”

He hums, satisfied.

“Your desperate pleas are music to my ears, love. Such a good girl, begging so sweetly for my cock.” He purrs, one hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back.

With his other hand, he grips your hips bruisingly tight, fingers digging into your flesh as he lines himself up. The blunt head of his cock catches on your entrance, slick with your arousal.

He rocks his hips forward, pushing into you inch by excruciating inch. Your walls stretch deliciously around his girth, fluttering and clenching as he fills you completely.

“F-Fuck, you're so tight. So perfect. I’m gonna fuck this pussy raw, Y/N. Gonna make you mine.”

With a final snap of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, balls slapping against your clit. He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful thrusts that shake the desk beneath you.

Fingers deep into your hips, he holds you in place as he pounds into you relentlessly. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes through the room, mixing with your wanton cries.

“I can feel you throbbing around me, Clenching down like you wanna milk my dick dry, shit Y/N” He pants, thrusting up into you with short, sharp jabs of his hips. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with each thrust, making you see stars.

He groans, sweat beading on his brow as he fights to maintain control. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the room as he pounds into your dripping cunt, the obscene sound mixing with your wanton moans and keening cries. He tugs roughly on your hair, forcing your back to arch as he leans over you, hips snapping relentlessly against your ass.

"Look at you, taking my cock so well... Like this greedy little cunt was made for me."

He punctuates his words with sharp smacks to your ass, the sting radiating through your body. His other hand snakes around to rub tight circles over your clit, the added stimulation making you see stars.

Feeling me clench around his cock whist my moans get louder, he says, “Close already, baby?" he rasps, fingers tightening in your hair. "Gonna come on my cock like a good girl?"

Jays skilled fingers play with your clit, rubbing tight, maddening circles that make you see stars.

"Ah-Ngh, Fuck!" You cry out, back arching as he drives into you deeper, harder, hitting that secret spot inside that makes you clench and quake.

"Shh, shh, that's it love," he croons, voice husky with desire as he whispers in my ear. "Gonna make this greedy little cunt come on my cock like a good girl."

His hand lets go of your hair and snakes around to your throat, strong fingers curling gently but firmly around your windpipe. The slight pressure, the feeling of submission, only heightens your arousal.

"You gonna wait for me, baby?" he growls, grinding against your g-spot. "Gonna hold off until I say you can come?"

Your head is spinning, body trembling on the razor's edge. You're so close, teetering right on the precipice. But you know better than to disobey.

"F-fuck, yes!" you gasp out, nodding frantically. "Yes, I'll wait-shit!"

"Good girl," he praises, loosening his grip on your neck only to wrap one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his sweat-slicked chest.

His thrusts become erratic, hips stuttering as he chases his own release. "Fuck, Y/N... Gonna fill this pussy up, pump you full of my seed-Fuck..”

He changes the angle slightly, grinding against your g-spot with ruthless precision. Your desperate cries reach a fever pitch as an orgasm crashes over you, muscles clamping down on his pistoning length like a vice.

With a hoarse gasp, he buries himself to the hilt one last time, cock pulsing and throbbing as he empties himself inside you. The feeling of his hot cum flooding your channel is your undoing and you come with a silent scream, walls milking him for every last drop.

You came with a silent scream, your walls clamping down on Jays pulsing length, milking every last drop of his seed. Your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, back arching as you grind back against him, desperate for more friction.

Jays grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave marks as he rides out the aftershocks. He pours himself into you, filling you to the brim until his cum drips obscenely down your thighs.

Finally, he slumps over you, pressing you into the desk as you both struggle to catch your breaths. Your eyes flutter closed, head lolling to the side as Jay peppers kisses along your neck and shoulders.

"Fuck, Y/N..." he pants, voice hoarse. "Are you satisfied now?"

He nuzzles into your hair, inhaling the scent of your coupling. You feel boneless, sated in a way you never experienced before. Jay softening cock slips out of you with a wet pop, more of his release trickling out of your used hole.

With a groan, Jay straightens up, smoothing down your ruffled hair. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Can't have you walking around with my kids swimming in you."

He lifts you easily into his arms, carrying you towards the bathroom. You loops your own arms around his neck, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.

"Mmm, yes please..." you murmurs sleepily. "A hot bath sounds perfect right now..."

Jay chuckles, carrying you over the threshold and into the bathroom. As the door closes behind yall, shutting out the rest of the world, you know exactly where you belongs - safe and cherished in the arms of the man you love.

✧꡴

✧꡴

[erindrinkstea]

Please Please Please

Poly! Dark! 141 x Reader

TW: Dark Themes, Spicy Themes, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Violence, Blood, Death

Description, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Main Masterlist | CoD Masterlist

Note: The long awaited Part Four!

"Ah, fuck."

The words slipped out as the crushing pain yanked you from the merciful void of unconsciousness, jolting you back into the harsh reality of the suffering you’d momentarily escaped.

“Settle down, sweetheart.” The gruff voice grated on your nerves, and you groaned, too hazy to register who was speaking but annoyed enough to resent the command.

"Easy for you to say." you hissed, batting away the hand rubbing your shoulder. "Feels like I got dragged down from Heaven straight into Hell."

“As much as Heaven might miss its angel, I’m not nearly saintly enough to let you go just yet.” Another deep, rough voice cut in, the familiar chill of it snapping you back to reality.

“Price? Ghost?” You blinked, coming to your senses. “Holy shit. I’m alive?”

Their expressions darkened at that.

“Of course you are. We’d skin the medics alive if you weren’t.” Ghost chuckled, though there wasn’t a hint of humor in it. The edge in his tone made you suspect he wasn’t joking.

"How was the mission?" you asked, worry sparking for the victims left in that hellish place.

"All civilians are on the path to recovery. And you should be too.” Price replied, casting you a look that was half-reassurance, half-warning.

“You were reckless. Careless enough to be suicidal." Ghost scolded, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“We’re in the military. We’re the 141. Everything we do is suicidal, lieutenant.” you shot back, unapologetic.

“I know. But a bit of caution wouldn’t kill you.” Ghost narrowed his eyes, holding firm. Normally, you’d relish the back-and-forth, but the weight of exhaustion from skirting death kept you quiet this time.

“Think I’ll catch a little more shut-eye before getting thrown back into the fire.” you muttered, gesturing toward the door. “If you’d kindly leave, gentlemen.”

They exchanged a look, hesitating for a moment before nodding and stepping out. Weirdos.

As the door shut behind them, you let out a relieved sigh. The tension in the room had felt suffocating, like a collar around your neck with the way those two had stared down at you. It was terrifying, to say the least.

You stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, deciding that thinking too much about it would only add to your headache. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, letting yourself drift back to sleep.

☕︎︎

“How were they?” The moment Ghost and Price left the room, they were bombarded by the two sergeants waiting outside.

“Werethey breathing okay?” “Is her pain under control? Does she need more meds?” “Were they able to talk? Were they coherent?”

“They're fine.” Price raised a hand, silencing them both immediately. “Just very tired. They needs rest.”

“You will not disturb them. Give them space and time.” Ghost ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. Soap and Gaz looked ready to protest, but he cut them off.

“They're exhausted. They needs rest, and we’re going to give them all the time they wants to heal. Fussing over them now will only stress them out.”

Ghost’s stern logic shut down any further protests, leaving both of them nodding reluctantly.

“What can we do for them in the meantime?” Soap’s voice was laced with desperation. He hated just standing around and waiting—it was never his strong suit. Patience was possible, but only up to a point, and right now, he was far too agitated.

“We’ll give them all the time she needs, Johnny. That’s all we can do until they walks out of those doors,” Ghost replied.

“That’ll be easy enough. We’ve gotten away with worse than a bit of extra time to rest,” Kyle shrugged, a knowing smirk on his face. It wasn’t exactly a secret that special forces sometimes received certain privileges, and a little bending of the rules came with the territory.

“I’ll head to the kitchens and cook something up for our birdie,” Gaz grinned, clearly proud of his idea. “They'll feel better with something warm and savory in their stomach.” Gaz was probably the only decent cook in the 141.

John hadn’t set foot in a kitchen in ages. Simon could cook, but the man had no sense of seasoning; whatever he made would end up either too bland or overwhelmingly spicy. And Johnny? He’d either blow up the kitchen or whip up some abomination that was more science experiment than food.

“I can help!” Soap perked up, only to have Ghost pinch the back of his neck in warning. “We don’t need a burnt-down kitchen, Johnny. We have enough people in the med bay as it is.”

Ghost nearly laughed at Soap’s sulking expression. “Come on, you can help me with paperwork instead.” Soap’s face turned from sulking to horrified as Ghost steered him off to work.

Price chuckled and shook his head before heading to his own office to file some papers. He’d have to talk to Laswell about the extended rest period as well. She’d likely be the easiest to convince, considering how much she cared about you.

The 141 will take good care of you from now on, don't worry.

[not-quite-ran]

Let's get married

(a dreamnoblade one-shot)

"Let's get married" Dream almost laugh, no, he did laugh, because he thought he was joking, because who would propose in the middle of the artic, just outside a secret base of an anti government organization that had just finished a meeting, besides it didn't even sound as a proposal, so he just laugh.

But Techno didn't laugh with him. In fact, when Dream turn to look his way, Techno was holding a circular object that was also very shiny that happened to look exactly like an engagement ring.

"Oh"

-----

Life after prision break wasn't easy, but Techno was there. 

Techno was there when Dream was physically able to hold a sword again.

Techno was there when he succeeded in hold a pen properly, and do readable orations instead of his usual cat scratches.

Techno hold him when the night terrors were unbearable and he live sleepless for a couple of weeks.

Techno was there when he had to empty his guts in the bathroom when he had a little too much food when his stomach wasn't able to handle it yet.

Techno was there, and even better, Techno was there for him.

So when Techno offered him a place at the syndicate table, Dream was euphoric.

Not everybody was exited to meet him at the syndicate table, but a couple of years had passed and he was unbothered, besides, the syndicate wasn't really busy, so it really was just an excuse to reunite in a calm place to chat and have some of the pastry Nikki always bake for them

It was nice.

Dream could get use to this.

And he did.

--

Dream wasn't a man of formalities in his personal life, and honestly after all the "no attachments" thing in his past he was kind of lost in the topic now. So when he and Techno past from foreign touches, to cuddles, to kisses, to straight up make out sessions and ,,, other stuff, they really didn't say much, it felt natural, maybe not really talk about it wasn't ideal, but it work for them and no one really never cuestion it, so, no need.

Dream had already sense the subtle change in their routine, they were entering a very domestic routine (more domestic that it already was), Dream could feel it, and it was nice, it was peaceful, and warm, and Dream was tired. Recovery was a very tiring process, and Dream wasn't complete heal.

He didn't think he would never be.

But it was fine.

He had Techno.

And it was very obvious right now.

Techno wasn't in his knees, Dream didn't think he could stand it if Techno kneel, but he didn't need to, because Dream was already in his horse and even if Techno was a fucking giant, Dream have to look slightly downwards to look at him from his place at the top of his horse.

Techno also wasn't offering the ring per se, he was handing it over, like it was anything but a fucking engagement ring-

"Okay, rude, you could had just say no instead of laughing at my face, but okay" Techno was teasing, Dream could hear it in his voice, but he also could hear the slight wavering, like he was insecure.

Techno was never insecure.

"N-No, wait ,,, what?" Dream tried, he did, but his brain refuse to catch up with all that was happening.

"I said, we should ,,," Techno bring the ring closer to Dream's face, again, like he was presenting anything but a ring. "We should get married"

Dream blinked,

Once,,

Twice-

"That it's the most horrible proposal I ever heard, and I have heard a few." Dream couldn't help but laugh, again, and Techno was about to retreat his hand when he lean in and put his hand over Techno's. Techno smiled.

"Okey, nerd, leave me alone, this is a full player thing I have zero knowledge about this kinda stuff in players culture." Dream couldn't help but smile

"Then you should try and do it in a way you understand it." Despite everything, Dream took the ring from Techno's hand and put it in his finger, and took his time to admire it, it was truly beautiful, Techno has put a lot of thought in it. He smile, "It's really beautiful Tech." 

"I'm glad you like it" Techno took Dream's hand, and he also admire the ring in his finger, he look proud. "And now that you accept my courting, it's the first of various ornaments that I should give to you, mate." It wasn't a question,  but it also wasn't a affirmation.

"Well, I think I would like to get married to you, mate."

Dream swore he had never seen Techno smile wider.

Yeah, he will be fine.

Because he had Techno.

And Techno had him.

[threepandas]

After The War: Foxx Hunting (Prev <-)

"Commander."

On anyone else, the tone would suggest simple statement. But there was a lilt. A slight inflection, I had long learned to spot, at the end of the word. That made it a greeting. A call. Monotone filled with subtle, near untraceable mocking.

"Tired of running yet, Commander? Or do you want to struggle more? You can, if you want. I can let you. We have time. After all, it really won't change much. There's no where you can go."

Head tilted ever so slightly, at an almost an invisible angle. Posture, military perfect, impossibly so. That perfection bought with pain, torture, born out of brutal necessity. His lips quirked, in an amused curl. At just that same, impossibly slight amount. Too small and indistinct for his tormentors to notice. To take from him.

Just enough to stay human, I had thought. Too stay sane, I had hoped.

I was wrong.

My biggest mistake hunted me. Had all the power in the GALAXY now, to hunt me. All the time he could ever dream, in which to do so. And it was all my fault. Me. It had to be. I... I was the only thing that changed. Tried to make things... things BETTER!

How arrogant. Hubristic. Who the fuck was I? To think I had the RIGHT, to shape and change the fate of an entire GALAXY to my whims? I didn't even know the story. Had been GUESSING, based off STAR WARS. So... so fucking confident. A-and what did that get me? Oh god. O-Oh god!

The blaster burns on my arms and legs screamed, as I forced myself up, one more time. Always, please god, always! J-just one more time! Don't give out on me yet. Not.. not until we are safe. Then. Then! We can cry. Howl and weep, break down and scream.

(My fault. My Fault. MY FAUL-)

None of the characters were an exact match. People were and weren't where they should be. Plots happened out of sequence or not at all. So why? WHY? Did I believe so hard in the Clones? IS it because I loved, still LOVE, the Vode? Did that trust transfer? That emotional connection? Was I tricked? Or was I just a fool? Does it MATTER in the end? If the result is the same?

I brought a monster, straight to Power.

Now they're dead. All my brothers, my sisters, my mentors and friends. Dead, dead, DEAD! Glowing weapons on the ground and a temple filled with DEATH. D-Did the nurseries get out? Please, oh god, let the children have survived my mistake.

Blood stains my robes. Only a tiny fraction of it, is mine.

Sticky and slick, oily and so many colors. The blood does not mix. Too many species, too much ash from the air. If I do not clean or remove it soon? I am likely to get chemical burns, from the reactions developing on the cloth. But again and again. My mistake finds me. A pursuit predator. Intent on wearing me down.

"How long will you try, Commander? You know just as well as I do, that I can afford to wait you out. You'll drop eventually." His tone was so mild, even as his words were horrifying. Overhead, a transport kept steady pace, as I desperately ran from commandos on the streets. "How many days has it been without proper rest? Rations? To stop and think? We've survived far worse then this, Commander. For far longer. We can endure, can you?"

I pull my magic around me, through my screaming legs, to fling myself across a jump they shouldn't be able to make.

Despair surges, as behind me... I hear jetpacks. Ah. They've gotten better gear, at long last. E-Everything I've ever wished for them. Gear and food and safety, at long last! A-At long last. I have to laugh, hysterical and afraid. I just... I just never thought my wish? Would be fulfilled for the purpose of hunting me down.

(I'm so tired. Please, god. No more. Let it stop. Let this nightmare END!)

Jumping, I land in a roll on a level several floors down. The impact is ugly. Agony on my burns and bruises. I may have not taken any direct hits? But those glancing strikes? Still leave marks. Trails of seared, blistering, blaster burns. Like tiger strips. As though you hade been struck, by whip made of fire. Not to mention the concussion grenades.

Yeah, half way through the attack, the Clones had stumbled. Either broken free of the Not Sith's control or come to their senses, deciding to switch to non-lethal weapons. Probably trying to go for the capture instead of the kill. But given the sheer variety of the Knights? One Being's sedative was another's lethal toxin. And the gas attacks...

I... I'm still not even sure if... if Master Rim'Llahiy survived long enough, to get to the healers. The seizures were BAD. He... he didn't deserve that. All he'd ever done, was keep the gardens. Live a quite life. T...Try to defend his home.

Around me, as I run, screens light up. Somehow, I'm the focal point. I... I don't know how he's doing this. It has to be Sketch or Gear, one of the Slicers. Who else could hack into so many systems so easily? The... the knowledge that they're helping him? That everyone of the Guard is HELPING him hunt me? I feel sick.

Was any of it real? Was I friends with ANY of them? Or... Or was I just them happy little slave master, patting myself on the back, because I didn't beat them, unlike the others? Aren't I gracious. Don't you just love me? Say thank you for my grace. Let me feel good about my self! My pretty little charity of the day! Before I skip back off to fairy land! Leaving you all in hell.

Do I deserve this? I... I have to deserve this... right?

Even though I tried. Even though I fought and fought and FOUGHT. Even when that Not A Sith BASTARD tried to kill me at every turn, just to shut me the fuck up, and I WOULDN'T. Because they deserved to be free. Because it was WRONG. Because we took VOWS, remember? Days and days, convincing and campaigning.

I have to... to somehow, deserve this. Because? B-because if I DON'T?

Then What Have I DONE?

City levels and blocks blur together. I couldn't tell you where on this god forsaken ecumenopolis I am anymore. But the others! The others have gotten off planet by now. Surely... surely! They have escaped! Right? They HAVE too. I-It HAS to have been worth it. Becoming bait. M-making myself a target. This... this one last time?

It.. it was WORTH it. Right? Right?!

Please! Please god! Let it have been WORTH IT!!

I skid around a corner. Too tight, not judging it right in my panic, my shoulder clipping the wall hard. Scraping flesh through my robes. Just more bruises and hurt to add to the pile. I don't slow. Can't slow. Feel it but push the pain away. The crash later will be ugly, when I release the magics flowing through me. When the adrenaline fades. But... but either I will live to endure it? Or it will not matter at all.

Too late, though, I see the trap.

I have been corralled. Like a a sheep from my first life, harried by dogs into a pen. Tricked into a corner. No where left to go. The platform I thought was a street? Was an alley between two buildings, leading to a third. A perfect little killbox with only one way out. I stumble, horrified, as I register the truth too late. Spin, already knowing it's too late to double back. But hoping... HOPING....!

Jetpacks. The commando squadron of the guards, touching down at the entrance, a solid line of armor and skill. Better weapons, jet packs, upgraded armor. They... they even seem rested. For the first time in years.

A stark reversal. Now it is I, who is barely holding on. Now I am the one, who has been ground to dust, by the exhaustion of fighting without end. Of running and running. No real food and no real rest. No medicine. No help coming. I want to laugh, scream, weep. So it's to be poetic justice, is it?

But I can not give in.

Forgive me. But I can not, WILL NOT give in. Body exhausted, I draw my blade. The plasma humming as the magics charge. The alleyway fills with light. I took Vows. Owe my soul to the Galaxy and it's people. Regardless of Regime, I have service I must complete. And to do that? I have to be alive.

(I don't care, that they took over. Let them have it. But how could you? How COULD YOU?! The Temple was my home. I am a hypocrite. Here, at the end, I must face that. And now I know it to be true.)

The ship over head dips lower, kicking up a hurricane of wind. My robes whip around me, but I do not move from my opening stance. Ready, not ready, but resigned to it none the less. The Commandos are a silent wall as, from above, a rip cord descends. Clipped to it? Marshall Commander... no, Supreme Commander Foxx.

The Clones newly elected Emperor.

A man I THOUGHT was my friend.

He looked nothing like Commander Fox of the Vode. Hair too long and curling. Face deceptively young looking and boyish. Non regulation piercing hidden under the helmet all Guards wore, day in and day out. They hadn't been able to customize their armor like the others. So they customized themselves.

He wasn't in armor, now. It was somehow worse. The dress uniform an affront, a reminder, like a curse of broken glass. I... I hadn't even known he owned such a thing. It made sense, given his old position. Yet, somehow... somehow? I doubted this was the uniform he had been given. It looked... looked Regal.

"Are we done, now? Got it out of your system? Or should one of us put you on the ground first? Grind your face right against the filthy floor?"

His voice was mild as ever, as he calmly unclipped himself, let the cord retract. He tucked his hands behind his back. Strolled forward with measured steps, assessing eyes, like a general examining untested troops. Picking me apart for weakness, looking for openings in my stance. Injuries on my body. I had seen him do this before. Just... just never thought... it'd be used... a-against me. (How arrogant, I had been.)

"This can stop at any time, Commander. All you have to do? Is stop running. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm not going to hurt you. We're not going to hurt you. You've struggled long enough, don't you think? It's time to be done. To come home. Be taken care off. That's all we want to do, Darling. Commander."

"Surely you can see, that it's BETTER this way? No more war. No more Knights on sabotaged missions. Diplomats to war zones. Children where they shouldn't BE. The Order can be SAFE now. YOU can be safe now. Loved and precious as you always should have been. It's okay now, Commander. Come here. It's okay..."

Foxx's eyes blazed with conviction. They had been brown, like his brothers. They... oh god, they SHOULD have been brown. But as I stared into his face, at those unfamiliar eyes on what should be so familiar a form? Red stared back. The red, Red, RED, of the Fallen.

Foxx had been... had been Energy Sensitive. The Cloners had fucking LIED, when they said it wasn't possible. I had always suspected. Didn't dare bring attention to it. Didn't want my friend to be... to be KILLED. Experimented on. I should have trained him. Done more.

Desperate people will reach for anything, to stop themselves from drowning. And the Dark offers such tempting things. Vengeance and Power. Freedom, no matter the cost. It pays sweetly then corrupts slow. There is always a cost.

I can not risk it.

Shifting my weight to my front leg, in preparation to surge forward, I never get the chance. A two fold thwip! And sharp pinch in my upper arm. I got the first. But the second... a? Dart? No. NO! Panicked, I flood my body with the magics meant to purge drugs and... instantly the world spins. I have somehow just made it worse. W-what?

"Confiscated from slavers, 'bout five months back. It's a high end drug." The Commando with the dart gun said, as though commentingon the weather. "Fairly new, too. Made to react specifically to the Cosmic Energies. Our esteemed Chancellor, may he rot as he deserves, had them developed through several shell companies."

"Really wish you hadn't done that, Commander. Cause, see, the side effects? Are pretty nasty." Foxx commented. Various helmets nodded, the guards body language sympathetic but lacking any remorse. What ever it took to bring me in. To make me Safe.

"Now you're going to be sick for a while. But on the other hand? You are a stubborn one. So maybe this'll give you time to think, hmm? Time to enjoy the pampering a bit. You'll get used to it, learn to be good for me. I know you. You're a smart girl."

My legs couldn't hold me anymore. Despite struggling, I couldn't keep my blade at the ready. Helplessly, I watched as he watched forward. Used a single finger, on the hilt, to push my blade to the side. The lightest of tugs, stealing it from me entirely. At long last, the tears came. I... I was scared. Really, really scared. P-please... Foxx, please...

"Hunts over, Commander. It's time to stop running. You've lost."

"But, that? That's okay. You can lose now. Be weak. Wretched and pathetic and flawed. You don't have to be perfect any more, Commander. I've got you. You're Mine. Ours. Perfect, just the way you are. And today?"

"Today is the start of the rest of your new life, Commander."

"Welcome to the Empire."

[dr-spectre]

As someone who's been in multiple fandom circles and calls themselves a Splatoon fan, I've seen a lot of focus and discussion on "THE LORE!!" and "CANON!!!" and to be honest with you... it's getting really tiring and I think people are just WAY TOO obsessed with what a wiki or an intern at Nintendo says rather than forming their own perspective on events and coming to their own unique conclusions.

Now, I wanna say, if talking about lore and discussing which elements are canon or not makes you happy and you love talking about that, then that's perfectly okay. It's fine. It's not for ME personally because my focus on Splatoon is the gameplay, music and the storytelling chops of each Hero Mode.

Story >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Canon for me any day of the week i do not care.

Because, to get away from Splatoon for a second, for my Sonic fans out there, you remember when Sega and the people behind the show Sonic Prime said that it was canon to the mainline Sonic timeline? And if you said otherwise you were technically wrong because "oh Sega said this, so it MUST be true!"

........But then everyone said that Sonic Prime cannot be canon to the mainline Sonic timeline because it has a fuck ton of inconsistencies? Yeah.... funny. Basically, don't put a lot of focus into "what actually happened" and "oh this is what the multi billion dollar corporation said!" because there's always gonna be one guy out there that goes "um this information kinda fucking damages the story in a severe way." (And sometimes that one guy is me.... hehehehe....)

I could obviously talk about.... you know.... Hypno Callie again for the 50th trillion time.... (and i will)..... This bitch.... I wanna love you girlie i really fucking do but Nintendo and millions of people make it hard to....

Nintendo set up Callie's villain arc decently in Splatoon 1 with the Splatfest dialogue, the Squid Sister stories and the Sunken Scrolls, yet they ultimately damaged the progression of the arc by saying "nah fuck u she got kidnapped and brainwashed, removing all of her memories and free will because fuck telling a good story with satisfying set up and pay off that allows for character growth. Fundamentals of storytelling? What are those?" And it also destroyed Callie as a character by reducing her to an object that the player "must save from da evil Octavioooo" and "oh look at her! She put the stupid brainwashing shades onnn againnn!! such a dumb fucking moron dumbass piece of shit right guys?!? lmaoooooooooo!! explore the dangers of addiction and how you need to seriously change your life and be surrounded by those you love in order to change bad habits?? Themes?? PFFTTT! NAWWW! THAT'S LAMEEEE!! It's Callie! No one cares about Callie!! She's stupiddd!!!"

(I talked about Callie in a tumblr comment section one time and I got made fun of for by a guy way older than me. I love humanity.)

It also ruined DJ Octavio's character too because, if what Nintendo said is true about what he did then he cannot be redeemed in Splatoon 3. He cannot go back on the shit he's done. But they try to redeem him out of nowhere and now he's all chill with the New Squidbeak Splatoon and appeared in the Grand Fest.... Yet what he did to Callie which Nintendo loves to push is truly TRULY unredeemable and if that's the case then welp.... I call that bad writing, straight up. It's bad writing.

I really hate it when something happens in a story and you perceive it in a certain way where you feel like it elevates the events, but then the company behind the story chooses to pick the worst outcomes possible just because? And everyone rolls with it just cause? Ugh...

Lesson of today is, don't fucking listen obsessively to what a company says and suck it up. Consume media and come to your own conclusions on what happened. As long as you have tangible evidence to back up your claims you can make any interpretation you want to, whatever makes you feel happy bestie!

[transbianmuffin]

Memories pt. 6

cw manipulation

********

"Deena?"

"Mhpf."

"Deena, my dearest, it's time to wake up. The others have already left."

"Sinea..."

"Take your time, maybe not too much though. Today you leave."

"W- what?"

"I'd love to help you get dressed but I'm a bit behind the bureaucracy. I'll waiting in the... how do you terrans call that? Living room. I'll be in the living room finishing some last paperwork for your release."

no

no no

no no no

I don't wanna go

I don't wanna leave

where are my clothes?

fuck I can't walk straight

those fucking drugs

fuck fuck fuck

...

...

she's there sitting in the living room typing something on a weird pad

she seems so calm

fuck this shit.

"My dear, I just need a couple of signs here and here. Also one here, to issue your 'Independant Terran' status. You also need to tell me where you wanna be dropped off on Jupiter."

I don't understand any of this language I don't want to sign it fuck this thing

as I throw the tablet on the ground I can hear the smash, but I doubt i've actually broke it

Affini tech seems so durable

Is that surprise in her eyes?

...

"Deena. What was that?"

"I don't want."

"You don't want, what?"

"I don't want to go."

"You can't be my ward forever."

"I don't want to be your ward... I-"

"What do you want to be, then?"

"I- "

tell her tell her tell her tell her

"Come on, tell me. Tell Sinea."

fuck she raised up she seems angry

was she ever so tall?

so imposing?

I'm scared

fuck fuck fuck

"What. Do. You. Want. Deena?"

"I WANT TO BE YOUR PET!"

I said it I said it fuck I said it I said it fuck fuck fuck

"No."

no? no? what? what does no means? no?

"N- no?"

"No. Not like this."

"What? What do you mean?"

"You know how to ask for it, my lovely seed."

my legs fail to sustain me as I fall immediately on my knees

she's grinning

"Please, Sinea, please I want to be your pet. Let me be your pet. There's nothing more I could wish for. Please please please please please I- I- I- "

"Better, but I want to hear that word. You know which one."

"I BEG YOU! I'M BEGGING YOU SINEA. PLEASE TAKE ME AS YOUR FLORET."

silence

I can't see

my tears are obfuscating everything

vines?

Is she embracing me? she's embracing me! oh my yes please please don't leave me please never leave me

"Deena, my beloved. I was waiting for this moment since the first time I saw you. Oh you'll be my wonderful, gorgeous First Floret."

it's warm

it's peace

it's kindness

"Now please, be a sweetheart and pick up the pad. I need to scrap the release documents and prepare the contract."

"Y-yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, mistress."

"That's my good girl."

finally, love...

********

"M- miss?"

"Yes, my pet?"

"Headache, please stop headache."

"Sure thing, dear. Here, drink my sap. That's my good girl. Now before you doze off, I have a question for you. Do you rememeber the first time we met?"

"Y- yes..."

"Can you tell me how it happened?"

"I- I was lost. Lost in a tulip field. Starving. Dying. You, you found me and pick me up and then, and then there was Hipatia, Kyle and Maddi. And there was love, and then I pet. I good pet."

"And the bad thoughts?"

"Bad thoughts? No, D- Deena is good flort ena is ood pet no bad thoghhtsss~"

"Hush now, hush, rest. You are my good girl. My beloved floret."

"Are you tired?"

"Dirt, yes. Those memories were so deep engraved in her consciousness. Thank you for the Class B variant, Psylocra."

"It was a pleasure."

"It was for her own sake. She really was suffering a lot."

"Can you believe she was about to kill me?"

"Technically she saved your life."

"Ah! No, I don't think so. We'd have still overpowered those rebels. I've really never risked anything."

"In any case, none of this happened. Right?"

"No, not for her at least. Look how cute she is when she's sleeping."

"She is the cutest. I love her so much."

[thegempage]

i've almost certainly posted about this before and almost certainly will again, but there's a special kind of humor in looking over at chat while i'm clipping a stream and wondering "wait, i was home for this stream, where am i?" only to look over later and see my past self going "hey so i just woke up from a nap"

[altschmerzes]

if the only time you bring up A Secret Third Thing is when someone has suggested generally celebrating or uplifting platonic/queerplatonic fictional relationships in spaces that ordinarily obsess about romantic ones to the exclusion of all else perhaps consider why you’re doing that and also stop.

[lokh]

every day im reminded that though my parents may have wanted a dog they clearly did not want to take care of a dog

[dick-chugger]

Thinking about this always

[volivolition]

✨ thinking of him thursdayyyy ✨ (<- said in a monotone deadpan with jazz hands)

[garrettwrites]

I am so tired of how Quotev/Wattpad level fanfiction, written by what reads as a 15 year old getting into their first fandom, gets pushed up the book ratings in the gay romance genre (m/m). Why is Red White and Royal Blue always at the top. Why is Boyfriend Material. Why must I suffer. Where are the standards. Why is a 30/40 year old recommending me, a grown adult man, stories that feel like they were written for highschoolers who don't like to read so they pick up the trashiest, most easily digestible shit in order to have the bare minimum of fun while doing their reading interpretation project for class.

This is coming from someone who had fun reading goddamn Twilight by the way. I'm not a book snob. I can enjoy objectively bad media if it's fun. My favourite book series with LGBT main characters is All For The Game, and that's a shitshow! But at least there's passion in it! There's fun!

I am going insane!!!!!

[lesbianwyllravengard]

I was so excited to take this history of black cinema course and learn about all the things the other film courses ignore or leave out regarding film history because it focuses on black people and their very significant impact on Hollywood and film in general, but so far all we've had is white speaker after white speaker talking about how smart and great they are for knowing that black people were involved in film too, talking about their podcasts and the books they're writing on the subject, and I'm wondering how is it that I'm paying so much money for schooling and these speakers and professors are the best they could afford.

[sing-me-under]

*stands at the top of a stage with a megaphone *

LET BATMAN HAVE FRIENDS.

[cuz-reasons]

What if I exploded? What then?