#just to qualify a moot point

[jewishbarbies]

the new jubilee video with Ben Shapiro is so fucking annoying because of course the black leftist says all jews are white, replying “it’s a religion” when Ben tries to correct her, like can we ever get some poc/jewish solidarity with this performative shit. or even, GASP, a black/brown jew. because I’m so fucking tired of this ignorance in leftist spaces, and if the white leftists are too scared to mention it they’re going to have a poc friend that will, because they’re both just as fucking ignorant when it comes to jews. it’s getting clipped and rocketing around social media with people in the comments agreeing and doubling down on the blatant ignorance and antisemitism of the interaction, like thanks guys we really needed MORE of this right now. you’re so fucking helpful, jubilee.

[diniidjarin]

local part time job (sweeping horse shit) or big city job in my field (making horseshit)... much to think about

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Silver Linings ♡ Sam Winchester

Being duty solicitor was your least favourite bit about your 'training'. You didn't need supervision for it, which made it all the more boring. If you were with Cathy (your supervisor) then maybe, maybe, you could've enjoyed it. But no, you were stuck alone waiting.

Usually a duty solicitor would wait at home for a call that an attorney-less potential criminal was brought in who needed legal rep. But unfortunately for you, you didn't have a car. And since it was 11 at night the buses had long since stopped in this rural southern state you called home.

So you were simply sitting in the police station, waiting. Where you would wait all night. You went from being a 'hot shot' Stanford law student, to a trainee solicitor abandoned at a tiny police station.

You never wanted to go into criminal law, that was never the plan. You wanted corporate law, you wanted money, but more than anything you wanted to escape. Escape the very town that you were in right now. Escape the family that you now live with.

You kept telling yourself that maybe, just maybe, when you're fully qualified you can go to the city. But with your mothers bad health and your father out of the picture, well that wasn't really an option.

So for now you waited, and waited, and waited.

At some point between 1am and 2am you must have fallen asleep as you startled when an old, and tired, police officer shook you awake.

"Got two in for you." He said gruffly, "wanted for all sorts of stuff, we caught them grave robbin', but they're wanted for theft and murder and a whole host of stuff."

You blinked at him as his words slowly sank in.

Murder? You questioned in your head. It dawned on you that you may be sitting face to face with the people who'd been killing the young women in the town. No killing was too kind a word. They were brutally murdered their hearts ripped out.

You suddenly felt very sick, but this is what you wanted. If you were to stay in criminal law it would be beneficial to represent some prolific killers, your moral compass will survive.

"Wh-" you began but his loud and obnoxious yawn cut you off.

"Where are they?" You asked once he'd finished, trying to hide your slight terror.

"I'll show you to the interview room." He said as he walked away, jingling his keys in his hand. You followed him quickly, maybe this night wouldn't be so boring after all.

Before he opened the door, you quickly pulled your hair up into a smart updo (a quick knott) with a silver hair pin. It was your lucky charm. You've never given bad advice, lost a moot trial or failed an exam when you wore it. You weren't superstitious or anything, but you had a feeling with the two offenders you were going to face, you needed all the luck you could get.

When he unlocked the door for you, you weren't prepared for what you saw.

"Here's the file on them," the police officer said as you turned your attention back to him.

"Oh, thank you," you accepted the file as he turned to go, closing the door and subsequently locking it behind.

The two men sitting in front of you were cuffed to the table, sitting on chairs quite frankly too small for them.

They both looked unfazed by the whole process, if anything they looked annoyed, not scared or worried, just pissed.

That normally would have proved to be unusual, especially in such a town where all the offenders that walked in you knew by name. But you were shocked by something else.

Maybe you were still asleep?

This couldn't be right, surely?

There, one of the men sitting in front of you, was your old law rival. The one who pushed you to be top of your class. The only other person you knew with a full scholarship. The only person you knew that dropped out when he had so much potential.

Sam Winchester.

He dropped out after a fire killed his girlfriend, Jess, a lovely girl. Everyone thought it would be just a year out, but it wasn't. Naturally rumours circulated, but that didn't change the fact that Sam Winchester dropped out and you never saw him again.

Until now.

With several murder charges, accessory to murder, theft, robbery, burglary, identity theft, fraud, and grave robbing.

You quickly looked up and down the file as you seated yourself opposite them.

"So," you began unsure what to say, "you boys are facing a lot of charges."

Dean, Sam's older brother (you learned from the file) gave a slight laugh at your remark.

"You don't say..." He remarked. He nudged Sam slightly, to get him to laugh but he didn't. Instead he stared. He just stared at you.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, almost concerned, but more amused at his silence.

"I would say it's good to see you again Sam, but I would have rather seen you on the other side of this table." You said rather bluntly, you didn't have time for small talk, you needed them to respect you and know that you're good at your job, or at least will be when you're fully qualified.

"You know this chic?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.

"I-" Sam began but it was clear he didn't know what to say. I could read it in his eyes, I reminded him of a past, I reminded him of a future that could have been.

"We went to Stafford together," you said avoiding both brothers' eyes, "briefly," you added, "it doesn't prove to be a conflict of interest so I'm fine to represent you further should you need it."

They both simply stared at you, then gave each other a knowing look, then they turned back to you.

You couldn't read them, well you couldn't read Dean at least. Sam looked pained, like he didn't want me to be here. But there was something else. It felt like he was sorry. Sorry for what was something you couldn't quite work out.

"So," you said, "you have quite a lengthy list of suspected felonies, most of which carry life sentences. Due to the expenses of trials if you plead guilty a deal could be made, if not you're at the mercy of a jury, and if your trial is down this way then I don't fancy your chances. Of course only plead guilty if you are."

You reeled of the standard advice, truly you weren't well versed in what to do with serious charges relying on old law school knowledge.

"Any questions?" You asked.

They looked at eachother again, Dean strangely wiggling his eyebrows at Sam. In response the younger brother just rolled his eyes.

He looked similar to how he did at school. His eyes were still hazel with hints of green, his hair was still quite long and messy, he was tall even sitting down he had an imposing quality. But there were small differences. He held himself with a tension only found in old war veterans, his hair was just uncomfortably long for him, annoying him. But the biggest difference was in his eyes, the hope and joy that he once had were replaced with fear, mistrust and a hardness you'd never seen before. He was haunted.

"What are our odds like?" Dean asked, leaning back in his chair, he was too relaxed. He wanted to be here, and you couldn't figure out why.

You studied him briefly before answering. "Not good." There was no point lying to them. "But with your track record I'm assuming you're planning to make it out before trial."

"No we're-" Sam began but you held up a hand to silence him.

"Attorney client privilege, I'm not ratting on you." You clarified, "but I'm assuming this won't be the last time you're caught, I can take care of any personal issues you need me to deal with, and I can give you my card with my contact info."

"You won't be a qualified solicitor yet will you?" Sam asked, looking you properly in the eyes for the first time.

"I will be in a month," you clarified, "I've already gotten a few deals through, good deals, I've gotten clients acquitted on a technicality which if I had ful access to your file outside of this police station I can try and find one in your case. If not I can always advise you on some 'hypothetical' situations you may find yourself in."

He looked at you, really looked at you, if you didn't know any better you would say he looked proud.

But you did know better. Sam Winchester was never your friend. He was barely your acquaintance. The only reason you knew him was because of a sort of academic rivalry you shared. You pushed on another to do better. Until you couldn't. He dropped out. You stayed. And your mind hadn't thought about him since.

Well, you didn't think about him often at least.

"Thank you," he said with almost a whisper.

"You know you're the best lawyer we've had," Dean began, "most act like we did all that shit and have no reason to be treated like people."

"It doesn't matter what I think, being 'guilty' doesn't mean you're morally innocent, just legally."

Dean looked at you, slightly confused by your remark.

"God, you sound like professor Williamson." Sam laughed, breaking a slightly awkward silence.

"I mean he was my fav..." you said almost shyly. To say he was your favourite was an understatement, he was basically like a father to you. He was like that with Sam as well.

When Sam left, it left a hole in Williamson's heart. A whole that you don't think was ever really filled.

"He would've been everyone's favourite if he didn't give people 1000 essays." Sam laughed, reminiscing on your shared school time.

"The essays were fun." You commented, catching the role of Dean's eyes in your peripheral vision.

"I mean yeah," he agreed, "but most people don't like essays."

"Well most people didn't get an academic scholarship." You countered.

"We were the only two." He said almost solemnly and that look of mourning what his future could have been was back on his face.

You kept your last remark inside, choosing not to open an already newly exposed wound.

When you graduated top of your class they mentioned how you were the only one of the law cohort to get a full ride. Sam, to faculty members, was a distant memory. Well he was to everyone but professor Williamson.

They gave tributes to Jess at your graduation but not Sam. It was like he never existed. Like he was never there. It hurt like hell. But what hurt even more was that no one seemed to notice. Sam was an old story, the boy whose life got flipped on its head after his girlfriend died in a freak accident.

"Not that I don’t like this trip down memory lane but..." Dean gestured towards the clock behind me. I turned, it was nearing 3am, the time all the young girls had been murdered.

As I turned back towards them, they pulled away from each other it was clear that they were whispering.

"Do you want to share with the class?" You asked, concerned at the sudden change of atmosphere with the brothers.

"How old are you?" Dean asked, rather bluntly.

You thought about giving a remark about how people should never ask a lady's age but thought better of it given the strange change in atmosphere.

"Twenty-five." You said, slightly concerned.

Sam quirked an eyebrow confused, Dean looked worried.

"I skipped two grades," you quickly explained, "why?"

"She's the same age as the others," Dean commented.

Sam nodded, slightly panicked now.

You knew they were talking about the young women being killed. And you could tell that they weren't the murderers. That being said, it begged the question, who was it?

"Are you going to tell me what relevance this has given your current situation?"

"Well-" Sam began but was cut off by a police officer opening the door.

"Miss, are you okay here?" A young-ish police officer stuck his head in the room, his eyes fixing on you. You squirmed in your seat, his eyes made you go cold.

"Excuse me, officer?" You questioned as you stood up and turned to face the police officer.

"Smith." He gave you his last name.

"Officer Smith, in case you aren't aware of correct procedure here you don't interrupt meetings with council, there are strict confidentiality rules in place. Now leave and I won't report you to your superior, open this door without my permission again and I'll see you fired." You told him bluntly. For some reason there was a lot of activity for 3 in the morning.

He lingered, eyes roaming over you, a wolfish glint in his eyes. "I was informing you that i'm the only officer on shift so if you need anything come to me." Then with a curt nod he closed the door.

When you turned back around Sam and Dean were mouthing indistinct words to one another.

"What?" You asked, worrying more and more by the second.

"We're sorry to do this," Sam said.

You looked at him confused for a moment before you realised what had happened.

The cuffs were off.

In the time you had your back to them they had managed to silently pick the locks, without you or the officer realising.

You looked Sam in the eyes, he looked genuinely sorry but strangely determined.

No.

No. No. No.

Your mind raced, they couldn't could they?

You'd been so ready to help them, so prepared to take an outlandishly bold case. And this is what happens.

"Officer Smith!" You cried as loud as you could.

"Shit, shit, shit," Dean grumbled, "not him jesus christ you'd think you'd want to die, we don't even have any silver 'round here!"

Just as you were about to start questioning things the door burst open to your relief.

Thank god there was an officer to deesculate the situation. You were so relieved. You felt lighter, you felt relief.

Relief that lasted mere seconds as when you turned to face the officer, your supposed rescuer, it wasn't who or rather what you thought it would be.

It wasn't officer Smith, although the creature that stepped out bore an uncanny resemblance to him.

His nails were now sharp, long claws, he now had fangs and eyes resemble those of a wolf rather than of a man.

Your heart dropped.

"Any bright ideas sammy?" Dean asked as he pushed you and Sam into a corner.

"Not unless you have any silver." Sam replied, it was clear his mind was racing at 100 miles an hour.

"What the hell do you need silver for?!" You questioned as you were hiding in a corner behind Sam.

"Silver kills werewolves." Sam explained, surprisingly calm.

"Werewolves?!" You exclaimed, it felt like your whole world was falling to pieces in front of you. "You're saying that he's a werewolf?!"

"Yeah, which is why we really need silver or we're all dead." You were shocked at the bluntness of his response, however you were more shocked at the fact that he knew so much about werewolves. And words didn't even begin to explain how utterly confused, shocked and down right bewildered you were that werewolves actually existed. You wouldn't have believed him if it wasn't for your impending doom.

Suddenly an idea struck you.

You looked at Sam in the eyes. "And what, you just stab it with the silver and they're dead?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah."

You heard a loud smack as Dean collided with the wall.

Just as you were about to begin talking once more, the werewolf, officer smith, made its move to where you and Sam stood.

Sam put himself between you and the creature, his arm lingering on your shoulder.

"You're not getting to her." Sam almost growled at the beast ahead.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins. You had one shot not to die.

Officer Smith just laughed and easily threw Sam aside, leaving only you in the officer's wake.

"Don't take this personally," The creature said as it stalked towards you, trapping you against the wall, his clawed hand reaching up to you.

Suddenly, you pulled the silver pin out of your hair, clutching it in your hand like a knife, "it feels pretty personal." You commented before driving the makeshift weapon into his heart.

He looked at you pained, you could see the life fading from his eyes. Then he fell. A loud thud. He was dead.

Your hands shook. What had you just done? You had killed a man. No, not a man, a werewolf.

If those are real, then what else is out there that you thought was only folklore?

"Shit." Dean commented, slightly impressed, pulling himself up from the floor, "You could have told me, Sammy, that your law school buddy was badass."

You were still frozen on the spot, staring at the officer that lay dead on your feet. The police officer that you'd killed.

"Hey," you felt Sam's hands come to rest on either side of your face, you must not have noticed him getting up, he gently turned your face so that your eyes met his. "You're okay, you saved mine and Dean's life, you saved your own life."

All you could do was nod.

"He wasn't human," he said solemnly, "he was never going to stop killing, you did the right thing even though it doesn't feel like it, you did the right thing. I'm proud of you."

You nodded again, this time a question bubbled in your throat.

"If he's a werewolf, then...?" You trailed off uncertainty.

"Do you really want to know?" Sam asked, his gaze unwavering, he knew what you wanted to ask and him holding back gave you the terrifying confirmation you needed.

"I-" you began but stopped. You needed to know. You were in this world now whether you wanted to be or not, ignorance wouldn’t save you now. "yes."

Sam took a sharp intake of breath and nodded.

"It's all real, everything that you're told is just your imagination, or just stories or folklore; all of it is real." He said with such confidence you had no choice but to believe him. "That's why I left school, I had to come back to this life."

His statement seemed to knock the air out of you. So much information was swimming in your head at once.

"It wasn't an accident with Jess then? Something killed her, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"What..."

"A demon."

The information hit you like a truck, the only thing that's keeping you sane was Sam's hands on your face. His hands that steadied you. His hands that sorted out your hair. His hands that grounded you. Him, Sam, that gave you the strength to do what was necessary.

You had to focus now. You had to sort out the mess at your feet. You needed a plan.

"Okay," you almost whispered, Sam probably wouldn't have heard you if his eyes weren't fixed on your face, your lips.

"We need to sort this out," you said, gesturing to the body on the floor and stealing yourself against the development of your night. Your volume and confidence growing. "There are no cameras here due to attorney client privileges, so the narrative is ours to shape. If you lock me in these cuffs I can be hysterical when someone comes, say you broke out and he tried to protect me but failed, you took my hair pin as a makeshift weapon and stabbed him, and then you both locked me up and ran." You nodded and the narrative came together logically and coherently, they would have no reason for you to lie given what you'd just gone through. Or allegedly went through.

"Why didn't we just kill you?" Dean asked, pointing out a key flaw in the plan.

You paused briefly thinking.

"You didn't kill me because Sam remembered me and thought to spare my life." You said quietly, "It shows some humanity, which would help if for some reason you both ever went to trial."

"Okay anything else?" Sam asked, his hands still lingering on you.

"You took your file with you as well so you know everything the police have on you and you went and collected your stuff from the storage lockers which officer smith had the keys for." You concluded hinting at them as to what their next steps are.

The pair of them just looked at you stunned, Sam's hands falling from your face.

"Yeah, good plan." Dean looked you up and down, "I'll go and grab our stuff. Sammy, sort our lawyer out."

Dean bent down and took the keys from Smith's lifeless body and began walking down the hallways, whistling as he went. This was just another day in the office to him.

"You sure you want to do this?" Sam asked, "you'll face a lot of questions, you might slip up, today's been a lot I don't want to put you through anymore."

He was worried about you. Worried that this would be pinned on you. Worried that he just threw your life off course, just like what happened to him.

"I'll be fine Sam really." You assured him, "It's you I'm more worried about, I'm assuming this constitutes as your 'day job'?"

"Yeah, it's the family business." He said gesturing sarcastically around him, "saving people, hunting things."

"Must be tough, no connections just always on the run, basically alone." You looked at him uncertainly.

He avoided his gaze as he spoke. "I've got Dean and there is a good network of hunters."

"Hunters?" You questioned.

"People like us." He clarified.

"How is there a whole side of the world I didn’t even know about?" You said almost to yourself rather than to Sam.

"Most people don't." His reassuring words didn't do much to ease your mind.

"You said there's a 'good network' that implies that quite a few people do know."

A silence fell over the pair of you, which Sam took upon himself to break in a slightly awkward manner.

"Speaking of hunters..." He trailed off.

"What?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, "Think I should switch professions?" You mellow dramatically flexed your muscles causing Sam to laugh.

"No, no," he laughed, "Don't get me wrong you'd make a brilliant hunter but I'd rather not have to worry about you getting hurt."

His words sent a warm rush through your body. He would be worried about you.

"What is it then?" You asked.

"Well, a lot get caught by cops for murder and such when they actually just saved people's lives, since you're a solicitor"

"Not yet." You lightly corrected him.

"You're almost a qualified a solicitor," he amended, giving you a poignant look, "I was wondering if...." He trailed off uncertainly.

You filled in the blanks from his silence. He wanted you to be there contact. He wants to give you an expansive country wide clientele. He wanted to give you the freedom to escape while also being able to be there for your family. He was giving you your life on a silver platter.

"Past my details on, I'd be happy to do my bit." You say, a genuine smile passing your lips.

"Great, thanks." It was his turn to smile now. "I'll pass them onto this guy called Bobby. He kinda manages a lot of people in a way, everyone goes to him for advice and such, he'll get your contact information distributed." He explained rather quickly, almost awkward and self conscious in his cadence.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Thank you."

A silence fell over you both.

"I suppose I'd better erm..." Sam used his head to gesture to the cuffs of the table.

"Oh yeah," you laughed slightly, blush creeping up your neck, this whole situation was quite absurd.

The pair of you walked over to the table and you sat down. Somehow it now felt awkward between the two of you.

He gently placed your hands in the cuffs and tightened them. Then secured the cuffs so that you couldn't move. "You might be here a few hours I don't know when another officer will arrive I'm really sorry-"

You cut him off by grabbing his hand with your cuffed one. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." You reassured him, not quite ready to let go of his hand quite yet.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, "I'll call you as soon as I can so that way you have my number, okay?"

It was clear that neither of you wanted to leave this moment in the past, but with time being of the essence in Sam's case you both knew he couldn't stay here much longer.

"Okay." You confirmed with a nod of your head.

You both stilled. Hands still intertwined.

"Right well I... I'd better go." Sam said unconvincingly, lingering with his hand in yours for just a few more stolen seconds before he pulled away and walked towards the exit.

"Sam?" You said his name like a question, a prayer. You didn't want him to go. To leave you alone. You were scared. Or at least you knew you would be. With Sam here you felt safe, you felt a warmth around you. You didn't want to lose that, not just yet.

Sam wasted no time turning around when you called his name, waiting for you to speak again.

"Don't disappear from my life again."

A smile crept up his face that he tried to hide. It was his turn for his cheeks to turn a light shade of pink.

"Don't worry, I have no intentions of doing that." He walked back towards you, and held your hands again, "I promise."

His eyes were trained on yours, his beautiful eyes. They roamed your face for a moment, as if trying to commit every detail of you into memory. Then they lingered on your lips.

You felt your breath hitch as he leaned closer to you. His eyes quickly looked into yours for a split second as if to ask 'is this okay?' All you could do in response was nod.

And that's all he needed. You felt your eyes flutter shut as his lips gently and tentatively pressed against your own.

You felt yourself falling, more and more and more.

He pulled away all too soon. "I promise to call," he said as he pressed another quick kiss to your lips, it lasted only a split second but it was enough to send your head spinning once more.

As he made his way to the door he turned and gave you one final look before he disappeared from view.

The warmth that you felt lingered as you pressed your cuffed hands to your lips. Sam Winchester had just kissed you, twice. The very Sam Winchester who's currently wanted. At this moment you should have been thinking about the disastrous consequences of being caught, or the devastating news that monsters were actually real. However, all you could think about was his lips on yours and his promise that he would call. His promise that you knew he'd never break.

Who knew this night wouldn't turn out to be so boring after all? Maybe there was a silver lining being a duty solicitor.

♡♡♡

A/n: I started off using brittish law then, I just made it fit to the plot lmao, but one things for sure it's definitely not correct in terms of us law but it's fine...

Wc: 4.8k

[scoatneyhall]

WILD. Was anyone else aware that the Ted Lasso team has gone in and made post-production edits on season 3 episodes, sometime in the last year?

I've been rewatching the finale in advance of the one year anniversary of it airing, and straight off, I noticed that the points total on the graphic looked different to how I remembered it - a much closer race. It stuck out because I remembered being annoyed that they didn't celebrate the moment Richmond got confirmed for the Champions League, as the gap was big enough for it to have happened a while ago, offscreen. I still have a screencap from when the episode aired:

However, the current copy on Apple has an updated graphic, making the post-production graphic in line with the numbers on the actual physical whiteboard prop and the script mentioning the win streak. See here:

The corrected copy makes Richmond's points match the whiteboard, but it also puts the teams in 3rd to 5th place much closer to them points-total wise, meaning that now, in the current version of the episode, Richmond only qualified for the UCL in "Mom City," making it make more sense that the start of 3.12 is the first time it gets discussed. Would have been nice to mention that stake in the City match commentary during 3.11, but I genuinely am shocked that they went back in and edited the already-published episodes to clean up the post-production errors. For the record, here's the whiteboard as of 3.08: W10, D9, L6.

Just in case anyone cares, the order of those results was - 1 draw against Chelsea, 6 wins with Zava, 1 loss against West Ham, the rest of the draws and losses occurring between 3.05 and the loss against Arsenal in 3.07, and then the 4 wins mentioned at the start of 3.08. By the start of 3.12, it's mentioned they are on a 16 game win streak, so that's 22 wins overall, 9 draws, 6 losses, going into the final weekend, hence the updated graphic.

I like that they went in and fixed it - no idea when in the past 12 months that occured - but I also kind of can't believe they bothered? Then again, I can't believe the mistake was made in the first place, as they were so specific with details in the prior seasons, so maybe they couldn't live with it being wrong.

I know there were rumours about a ton of issues in terms of getting these episodes posted in time - right down to the wire, still fixing the edit on the airdate - and it's clear that these details were not checked and confirmed by the poor people in post who were not working off the show bible that lives in the writers heads. I don't blame them at all, I blame the people who got the edit to them late, but it did annoy me during the season a LOT. The maths wasn't mathing, and as we know this is a show that has been careful with dates and timelines and stuff like that.

Anyway! The point is, a) this post about my UCL qualification fantasies is now moot, and b) I went back and checked another post production error that had REALLY pissed me off, which was the dates of texts in Ted's phone in 3.04. Phone dates have always given us the timeline quite strictly before - it's how @belmottetower and I started the timeline in our primer, with Ted arriving in London on January 6, 2020 and then following the football seasons from there to place the season 3 finale in May 2022 - but in 3.04, all the cute texts we see to all the characters in his phone were badly misdated, placing the timeline further in the future. This caused arguments or misunderstandings, at the time about the actual timeline of the show, but it seems this was another detail the producers really wanted to fix and tighten up, as they've gone back and had it edited.

It's weird, because the texts Ted was actually going back to - the messages from Doctor Jacob - were dated correctly as late 2019, and there's even a little easter egg in the form of a US rideshare notification picking him up to go to the airport in America, on 5 January 2020. (Even the area code, 316, is apparently correct to Kansas.) That's all correct even in the original version of the episode, but somehow we then skip a year and place his most recent texts, as of 3.04, in late October 2022, when they should only be in late September or early October 2021. (I found this post on Reddit that screenshotted his phone at the time.) Examples:

I had to go back and check this, and sure enough, it's been edited to reflect the established timeline - they didn't just redate the year on each message, they also changed a bunch of the chats to be more recent - so rather than dates, his most recent chats with Henry, the Coaches, etc are from "Yesterday," then the first dated texts are in very late September 2021. This matches up pretty perfectly with where they are in a typical Premier League season - they REALLY cleaned it up. Further back, they do just switch the years on the dates, so he still got a picture from Sassy last Valentines Day, and his last one-on-one contact with Jamie is still set before the events of Wembley in 2.08 (FA Cup semi finals are in April, so a few weeks after the March 2021 date on Jamie's chat.)

My brain is itching because I swear there was a screen of Nate and Ted's text chat at some point too? With Ted reaching out about his new job, on a date that deeply did not work with the timeline? But maybe I imagined it. There's no record of Nate's number in his phone at all now, and the texts date back to before Nate left, so I guess in this version of events, Ted deleted Nate's number and message history.

Anyway, I'm aware that basically no one is going to care about this, but I suspect that the three people who will actually care will REALLY FUCKING CARE. Has anyone else noticed it? Does anyone know when it may have happened? Does anyone know what else might have been changed or fixed? I love details and I love the fact that there is no longer conflicting data about what football seasons the show is covering - it's mid 19/20 to the end of 21/22, end of story - but what a fucking mess the production of season 3 must have been, to end up at this point!

[pilot-boi]

Twins AU: During the Martial Arcs divorce do you think Ren used Raven abandoning Jaune against him, like the transcripts?

If so, how's Yang reacting?

I don’t think he would, honestly. It would be really cutting, but it wouldn’t follow with REN’s line of logic

Ren was upset because he felt that they’re just kids and therefore unqualified to be making the kinds of world changing decisions that they’ve been making

It’s why he brings up that he’s just an orphan from Mistral. He’s just some kid, not even a remarkable one, the Grimm have orphaned thousands of kids. Who is he to get to decide the fate of the world?

Same thing with Jaune’s transcripts. The person who is supposed to be leading them didn’t even qualify for the Huntman Academy he attended, and now here he is outranking most military officials. Doesn’t that just show that they’re hypocrites for thinking that THEY should be the ones making decisions?

Bringing up that Jaune is Raven’s son wouldn’t follow Ren’s train of logic. The fact that he was abandoned and raised by a different family doesn’t make him any more or less qualified to be in charge of the situation. It’s a moot point, and therefore not relevant

So no, I don’t think Ren would bring it up

[aroaceleovaldez]

another thing with the first series Great Prophecy I think about a lot - “A half-blood of the eldest gods” could be interpreted so many different ways, and actually “A child of the Big 3″ doesn’t make any sense even in the contexts of the series.

To begin with, “A half-blood of” could mean a direct child, a legacy, or even just a chosen hero. As long as they’re presumably a demigod. We’re presuming half-blood means demigod here but honestly even that could be a vague point. “A half-blood of” does not specify direct descendant.

Then, if we’re saying “the eldest gods,” presuming “Gods” meaning the Olympians specifically, is the children of Kronos, then that means any demigod of any of the children of Kronos should count. Which means that Demeter should have been part of the oath too! But she wasn’t and her children weren’t even considered for the prophecy! And neither was there any consideration for adopted children or chosen heroes of Hera or Hestia! Heck, by that logic, Jason is like, potential prophecy kid squared (son of Jupiter and adopted by Hera/Juno - half-blood of two eldest gods! Plus he was turning 15 the year the Second Titanomachy ended. If Percy ended up not being the one to turn 16 then Jason would have been next. (Or well if we want to get technical Frank would have been next, as a descendant of Poseidon, but then Jason.)

But the thing is, even among the Olympians, the children of Kronos aren’t necessarily the oldest gods. Aphrodite is potentially older, depending on how you frame the timeline and her origin story (which in this case is relatively vague in the PJO universe - we don’t know if PJO Aphrodite is older or younger than Kronos’ children). So if Aphrodite is older than Kronos’ children, her children/descendants/chosen heroes could also potentially be children of the prophecy.

And it doesn’t stop there. Because it’s not specified that “gods” here is specifically restricted to the Olympians. “the eldest gods” could mean gods older than the Olympians, of which there are plenty. I mean, primordial gods? Gods of specific concepts? and that’s just the tip of the iceberg and isn’t even getting into defining “god” and if we’re counting like, the Titans or not (because sometimes they are counted! And sometimes they do have demigod children! Hello Dryas of Calydon, occasional son of Iapetus [aka Bob The Titan]).

And that’s all specifically mythological. If we’re talking historically eldest gods, then that’s a whole different ballpark. To begin with, A CHILD OF HADES THEORETICALLY DOES NOT EVEN QUALIFY TO BE THE CHILD OF THE PROPHECY! That’s right! If we’re going strictly historically eldest gods, then Hades even being part of the oath was completely moot because his children could not be the children of the prophecy! Because as far as we know, Hades does not predate the Greek dark ages! So Percy claiming the prophecy to prevent it from falling to Nico was potentially pointless! Percy on the other hand is then a very strong candidate for the prophecy, because it’s heavily implied his dad is specifically Mycenean Poseidon (”Earthshaker”), who does predate the Greek dark ages. But you know who’s potentially even older? HERMES. Which means Luke could be doubly the child of the prophecy for all we know! Cause the prophecy also does not specify that the child of the prophecy turning 16 is when the prophecy ends, just that they’ll reach 16 against all odds. Heck, if Luke’s first quest was when he was 16, then we can interpret that as when the prophecy begins and that it’s all his prophecy.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Thank you for the thorough explanation of the US immigration/green card system. My guess is that Harold has a diplomatic passport, unfortunately, so the process you explained would all be moot, right?

No. Harry would still have to submit paperwork and go through the vetting process.

There are just different requirements for it. He still has to submit his passport for review. He still has to submit DS-160/260 form (160 is the paper form, 260 is the electronic form). He doesn’t have to sit for an interview. Instead of civil documents (eg marriage certificate, military records, etc), he submits a diplomatic note - confirmation from the foreign government of his status and travel details. Meghan doesn’t have to submit financial documents.

If he’s caught in any lies, his application can still be rejected and the threat of deportability (or inadmissibility) still remains. But it likely wouldn’t materialize unless the lie or the omission was blatantly egregious, at which point diplomatic immunity comes into play. There are different levels of diplomatic immunity and note, diplomatic immunity is not the same thing as impunity.

And technically, Harry is not qualified to be here on a diplomatic/A visa. From the Department of State website (emphasis mine):

To qualify for an A-1 or A-2 visa, you must be traveling to the United States on behalf of your national government to engage solely in official activities for that government. The specific duties or services that will be performed must be governmental in character or nature, as determined by the U.S. Department of State, in accordance with U.S. immigration laws. Government officials traveling to the United States to perform non-governmental functions of a commercial nature, or traveling as tourists, require the appropriate visas and do not qualify for A visas. The fact that there may be government interest or control in a given organization is not in itself the defining factor in determining if you qualify for an A visa.

He is not a representative of the United Kingdom. He is not here on official business. He doesn’t work at an embassy (though he did try to have Montecito Mansion declared as an embassy outpost).

Which is the core root of what the Heritage Foundation is trying to find out; how did Harry get here, when, and under what terms? Did he lie on his forms and if so, what was the basis for allowing him in anyway? Did he get special treatment because he was The Queen’s grandson? Did he get special treatment because of COVID loopholes? Or was he treated like everyone else?

If he was treated like everyone else - as claimed - then he should have gone through the spousal visa process.

But if he’s here on a diplomatic visa? Well, that brings up a ton of questions and makes the case for deportability stronger (because if you “settle” here via the wrong visa, sometimes they kick you out and make you start over again from scratch). But also as we talked about yesterday, they’re not going to deport Harry the same way they’d deport you or me if it gets to that point; it’s going to be done nicely through back-room negotiations and covered up by reconciliation/olive branch PR or “Africa is better for us, there’s no paparazzi here” PR.

[astromechs]

For kinktober: Jyn/Cassian + hate sex after the Eadu argument 😇

hi, anon, i finally had time to finish this prompt, but just know that it's given me brainworms ever since you sent it ❤️ this is the fic that was subtitled "cassian andor is a fucked up little man who desperately needs therapy" in my WIPs so, yeah. (as with all kinktober fills, mind the rating, readers!)

By K2’s calculations, it will be approximately fifteen hours though hyperspace before they reach Yavin 4 — longer than some journeys, shorter than many others. There’s no point, though, really, in putting any qualifier on that other than time, because it simply is; there’s never any more, or any less, to work with.

For the next fifteen hours, there’s nothing further for Cassian to contribute that’s of any use. He’s made as much contact as can be risked, even over encryption. A reprogrammed Imperial droid and a defected Imperial pilot will know more of the subtleties of piloting a stolen Imperial shuttle than anyone here, so for the next fifteen hours, he’s not the man for the only job on hand.

(Is he the right man for any job, if he disobeys orders and spares a target, only for it all to be fucking moot in the end?)

If there’s nothing further for him to contribute that’s of any use, then there’s no point staying in the cockpit. Without a word, he turns on his heel and puts it behind him, headed toward —

Well, there aren’t exactly an abundance of places to go here.

The Guardians have themselves stationed just outside the cockpit, and though he spares no glance their way, he can feel two pairs of eyes on him as he takes pause — both seeing, even if one is blind, both casting their palpable judgment in his direction. His jaw clenches alongside one of his fists, and a flash of anger, like the one that had sparked in him just hours ago, before they’d left Eadu’s atmosphere, threatens to make itself known again; his foot rolls forward, just short of a lunge that he barely manages to pull himself back from.

An aimless fight has nothing useful to contribute, either.

He moves on.

Read More On AO3!

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

1 + 65 pinkberry?

1. Historical AU + 65. It's Not You, It's Me

At first my head kept coming back to a medieval setting with some royal x non-royal thing going on (which would still technically qualify as historical but kinda feels like its own thing) BUT DAYS LATER IT'S FINALLY HIT ME

Consider... Salem Witch Trials (if not in Salem then in a fictional town)... but Chloe is actually a witch. (Im bringing in fantasy elements into this version of history bc yk, skepticism abt witches even being real leading to "wait I know a witch??") She lives off in the woods doing her own thing away from everyone else when Brooke happens upon her for one reason or another.

Chloe is naturally aloof at first, because of course she is, but Brooke finds a way to bring her walls down, because of course she does. What starts as small talk while Chloe collects herbs slowly turns into long chats over tea, then eventually losing track of the hours and an insistence to stay over for the night, I'm not sending you out into the woods alone at this hour, one night wont be any trouble, etc etc.

Naturally the two grow fond of each other as time goes on, but around this time is when all the witch fear-mongering goes on back in town. Brooke is naturally terrified because what if they accuse her of being a witch?? How would she be able to disprove such claims?? Chloe would no longer have anyone to visit and keep her company. What if she just moved out of town and in with her?

Chloe avoids this line of discussion as best she can, but Brooke is adamant. She's terrified at home, she adores Chloe and finds she wants to spend more time with her than anyone else in her life, she doesn't see why she can't just move in. And Chloe? She knows by now that she's developed feelings for Brooke and doesn't want to put her in danger by associating with an actual witch, never mind all the false accusations rendering the fear all but moot. There's no right answer. There's nothing that Chloe can do to keep Brooke safe and there's no way that Chloe can express this to her.

Brooke is scared and confused. "Why can't I just live here with you? How is it any more foolish than staying in town and waiting to be declared the next witch? What am I supposed to do? Do you care for me so little that I can't be with you indefinitely?!"

"It's because I care about you that you can't stay!" Chloe finally tells her. She tells her that she's fallen for her and that it puts her in just as much danger to be with a woman than it is to be clocked as a witch. By which point Brooke wonders, "Am... am I a witch?? Have I cursed you have such feelings for me because I can't control my own for you? How could I have put someone I love in such danger for my own selfish gain?! I can't believe it, I'm a witch! I'm a horrible person and I've forced you to love me because nobody else has dared to do so! I deserve to be burned at the stake! I'm the only one that actually deserves it!"

Chloe grabs her hands in a desperate attempt to make her love stop saying such horrible things about herself. "It's not you, it's me!"

[doubletrucks]

regularly scheduled freak out about the future public diary time here on doubletrucks dot gov :)

okay SO. i'm at a crossroads rn where like. i could stay in the city im in but i don't really love it here and it's SO expensive. it's expensive to live in ANY city but this one is particularly brutal. so like... if im gonna be paying a shit ton of money just to live i might as well do it somewhere i actually want to be and somewhere that has better benefits to me. which sounds like an easy decision on paper but there's also the issue of i want to go back to school and where im at rn, i qualify for a lot of state aid that would make it easier to go back instead of having to wait ANOTHER year to start school so i qualify for state benefits somewhere else. which honestly it would probably be another year here before i can start school so again kind of a moot point. which really leaves us with this: i am SCARED!!!! i'm scared to move somewhere i only know a few people, i'm scared to uproot my life and scared of the possibility of failure.... i am a big baby and a coward but perhaps. PERHAPS! i could get over it. but how!!!! also i kind of want to move back home but not to live with my mom but that feels also kind of scary because i also want to move to a lot of other places and i feel like if i go back home i will never leave because i really do love it but i want to see more.... idk idk. big things to consider.

[hopecomesbacktolife]

I’m not going to reblog the post itself because I don’t want that behavior on my blog, but oh my god I just saw a post about “looking for fics about your favorite character on ao3” and good lord the amount of bad takes both in that post and in the notes?? I have to just ramble about this for a moment because oh my god. it was ludicrous.

people were complaining that, and get this, unfinished fics exist. and that if you read an unfinished fic you’ll have to, get this, wait to read more until it’s published next. they were allll up in arms that there’s fics for a character that don’t cater to their specific interests. that they involve other characters and either do/don’t put them in a romantic relationship when they want the opposite for the character.

like at this point, most of you people in the notes on that post are 1) just being mean and condescending about FREE WORKS you can, may I remind you, READ FOR FREE and EXIT at ANY time! if you don’t like it!, don’t read it!, it’s so simple!, and 2) straight up do not know how ao3 works lmao

like I saw soooo many people in the notes complaining about a certain ship, dynamic, tag, etc, and like… y’all know you can filter by romantic vs platonic pairings, by ratings, by excluding certain tags or other qualifiers, etc etc etc… you know about ao3’s actually incredibly usable filtering and searching system… right… right??

at this point I’m just convinced a lot of these people are spoiled by large fandoms with 100k+ works for their characters and have decided to just be mean and condescending for no reason on main, about literally free fan works you can read for free any time that people spend hours and hours pouring their free time into out of sheer love for their craft. cuckoo bananas behavior if you ask me 🫠

I was legit so close to commenting that maybe they should try shipping two characters with <10 fics, with 0 fics, try liking a rare pair, try hyperfocusing on a character or niche type of fandom with a tiny but lovely circle of fans, and stop treating fan works and fic as Content TM that they deserve to have handed to them that caters to exactly what they want for free and maybe they’ll calm down lmao

like y’all aren’t cool you’re just being mean. we fundamentally approach fic in wildly different ways and honestly the way you do sounds exhausting. literally could not be me, I’m to busy finding joy in shared love for characters and not flipping the table in a rage because there’s one (1) element of the fic that isn’t specifically catered to me, maybe try that and you’ll feel better, hmm?

and yeah I’m aware that last sentence is me being condescending towards them, but frankly it’s warranted when so many people are being that mean and haughty for no reason lmao but truly those takes were horrific. fellow fic writers and even fellow fic readers I interact with, am mutuals with, authors whose works I read, readers who comment and interact with my works, fans of niche fandom subsets that run in the same circles as me— I hope you know this is so wildly not how I approach fics, I love just finding fics for my characters and forming these lil communities where we share our interests and love for them and hype each other up. I love what we have in these fandom niches and I hope you know I would never dream of being so mean and condescending towards y’all. fic writers and readers and fan communities are so special and I cherish it even if clearly there’s people in the notes on that other post who don’t know how to do that lmao. I love your unfinished WIPs, I love your fics that may only partially be what I’m looking for, I love when you write characters in a way I wouldn’t expect but shows your love for your particular headcanon, I love the variety and diversity and variance in fic. I love us. genuinely. fic writer moots I am hugging all of you and I frequently reread your works, even the unfinished ones. ♡

[thegreenishhues]

AAAA thank you for the tag starri I totally didnt forget to do this shhhhhhhhh

1. Who is/are your comfort characters?

All of the qsmp eggs my absolute beloveds <3333333

2. Lighter or matches?

matches ig???

3. Do you leave the window open at night?

yes whenever its nice enough out!

4. What cryptyd being do you believe in?

bigfoot (/j)

5. What color are your eyes?

Brown yippee we matching starri >:D

6. Why did you do that?

Im not sorry

7. Hair ties or scrunchies?

Hair ties :D

8. How many water bottles are in your room?

3 I think XD

9. Which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

Hot coffee although I really like both

10. Would you slaughter the rich?

I will consider it

11. Favorite extra curricular activity?

I did one called Art Around the world once upon a time and I really liked it!

12. What kind of day is it?

decent :)

13. When was the last time you ate?

oh like a few hours O.O

14. Do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

HELL YEA

15. Are you a parent? (All answers qualify)

I have a dog so yes

16. Can you drive?

I can do anything once

17. Are you farsighted or nearsighted?

Nearsighted

18. What hair products do you use?

Shampoo, conditioner, and leave in conditioner (not sure if thats what it is but sure) because it makes my hair soft

19. Imagine were at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

Yes but it will be a mess

20. Do you say soda or pop?

Soda because 'murica

21. Something you’ve kept since childhood?

My stuffed animals (same as starri)

22. What type of person are you?

Difficult to answer questions but I am definitely on the less energetic side, fairly outgoing, I do a lot of art stuff, pretty gay, a nerd in the sense of I play and watch a lot of minecraft?

23. How do you feel about chilly weather?

Yes to a point but also no because where I live it can get down to like -40 celsius sometimes and that is to cold

24. If we were on a rooftop together what would you do?

Are these questions coming from OP or the person who tagged me because it depends? I wouldn't be on a roof with you OP because you are a stranger <3

25. Perfume/body spray or lotion?

Perfume C:

26. A scenario you’ve replayed multiple times in your head?

God I don't know, my first interactions with mutuals tend to replay in my head a lot XD

27. About how many hours of sleep did you get?

8-9 yippee!!

28. Do you wear a mask

no :)

29. How do you like your shower water?

warm/hot

30. Is there dishes in your room?

yes...

31. What type of music keeps you grounded?

Most of my music is somewhere in the folk indie section :D

32. Do you have a favorite towel?

No??

33. The last adventure you’ve been on?

I went to a conference recently and far overestimated my ability to interact with humans 24/7 for 4 days XD I would call that an adventure

34. Is there a song you know every word to by heart?

Too many but also let it go from frozen one because childhood lmao

35. What’s your time zone?

not going to share that :P (some of my moots know but not just moots have access to public posts so no. <3)

36. How many times have you changed your url?

once only a few months after I made my twitch, haven't changed it since

37. Someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve know for 10+ years?

Oh god, no one really ;-; there are a few people I've technically known my whole life but I'm not close to any of them, damn I hate moving.

38. A soap bar that smells good?

Any fruit or flower scented ones :)

39. Do you use lip balm?

Not often

40. Did you have any snacks today?

I had a muffin!

41. How do you like your coffee?

typically just black because I am in a family full of bland monsters /lh

42. An app you frequent besides this god forsaken site? discord, twitch, youtube, and pinterest!

43. What’s your take on spicy food?

I love it so much AAAAAAA

44. You get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

no one probably. killing someone isnt the best way to resolve any conflict in my opinion (yes, there are exceptions)

45. Can you remember what happened yesterday?

Not much XD I played a lot of minecraft and spent the morning with friends :D

46. Favorite holiday film?

WALLEEEEEEEEEEEE

47. What was the last message you sent?

"Alright!"

48. When did you first try an alcoholic beverage?

When I was fairly young my grandma gave me some of her wine as a toast to my late grandpa I think

49. Can you skip rocks?

Sometimes

50. Can I tag you in random stuff? Absolutely!! although sometimes I will be an idiot and forget to respond for a while so my apologies

going to retag some lovelies tbw :D @lilghostlettuce @sarcastictissy @tiger-willow @theivorycoloureddonut @ssmartliineemartline @annimator @alteiriaa anyone else feel free to join!!

here’s weirder asks

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

lighter or matches?

do you leave the window open at night?

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

would you slaughter the rich?

favorite extracurricular activity?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

can you drive?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

what hair products do you use?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what type of person are you?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

perfume/body spray or lotion?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

do you wear a mask?

how do you like your shower water?

is there dishes in your room?

what type of music keeps you grounded?

do you have a favorite towel?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

what’s your timezone?

how many times have you changed your url?

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

a soap bar that smells good?

do you use lip balm?

did you have any snacks today?

how do you take your coffee?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

can you remember what happened yesterday?

favorite holiday film?

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

can you skip rocks?

can i tag you in random stuff?

[delicate44]

I really wish we would stop antagonizing people who aren't willing to lie to themselves about the reality of this situation. Of course I want Lewis to win and to win his 8th (really 9th) WDC, but the inconsistency is exhausting. Mind you, Ferrari's an even bigger shit show. If Lewis can't overcome what's happening at Merc with their weird strategy calls and the car not being up to par, how will he fare at a team that has this same reputation times 10?

Ferrari seem to have got their bearings a bit better now. And everything is a moot point until the car is good enough to even fight? You think Lewis the guy who takes the blame when things go wrong and gives the credit to the team when he wins is just lying about stuff like set up and balance to throw the team under the bus? No. This guy qualified P3 in the last race? He actually had a decent enough lap in the sprint quali barring his bad luck. He might have lost some pace in his quali idk but I honestly doubt lewis would disappoint like this if the car beneath him is better.

[lesser-mook]

Avengers 3: Infinity War (Good movie but the message is clear. People are just dense.)

This movie is very well executed depopulation propaganda with two meanings: First one is the powers that be are getting good at masking the agenda in pretty aesthetics.

And two, people are really dense to ignore the argument Thanos is making, the consequences of overpopulation are a reality.

(Though it's ironic that many countries today are experiencing birthrate drops, for a variety of reasons)

The impressionable masses won't get the consequences of that reality until their local markets shelves get lighter and lighter. Until their babies can't get formula, until their family's table gets dusty.

You only give a shit until it affects you.

(A lot of people reacting to this don't understand what this movie is, what Thanos represents, as did Joker before him in TDK)

Only then will they understand Thanos wasn't correct but he was right.

Confusing pragmatism of the issues with morality.

Thanos isn't smiling because he killed trillions of people, he's smiling because he knows he saved the whole in the longterm, and he did.

There's going to be economic disaster to losing workers, professionals with skills, unborn babies, pilots managing planes mid-flight, cranes, industrial operations, surgeons in the middle of operations etc.

It's not about the individual, it's about the species surviving itself. He was proven right with Gamora's planet doing better and his own Planet titan being destroyed by itself.

Can't just ignore that reality because his methods to fix the problem are messy. That's how the agenda is sold to you

"See? The means don't matter because the ends are justified."

Because in the face of overpopulation what was the Avengers gonna do? Nothing.

You could say he could just snap more food into existence, and yet that just enables the surplus, that encourages people to just keep expanding until literally whatever is left of the planet is either corporate ash or ruin.

Whales dying, sea is dying, extinction of animals, now humans are making moves on the Amazon rainforest, they just will not stop until everything is destroyed or covered in pavement & price tags.

And they keep popping out kids that they don’t want to train to be useful, not raising adults to contribute something.

Just raising NPC’s to be an accessory, born just because one wanted to possess a baby like a new toy because of how that’d make one “feel”. Because having a child is an optic move more than anything for many, which is partly how you get criminals to begin with, excess births that didn’t need to happen if the intentions were not 100% all in, it's going to show eventually in the product: The child.

You don’t get anomalies like a rapist IF the parents did their goddamn jobs. You only get that, if the people with the power to spread didn’t need to work or be qualified to do it in the first place, it’s too easy to do it, which is why nobody does it properly.

Dude wasn't morally correct to kill so many, but why he did it was right, because Earth isn't just a planet for humans- the more humans running around, that influx is making the entire system suffer.

So imagine other species with bigger planets and bigger populations & the issues they're having because reproduction is an idiots task that takes no qualification, training, or skill, just time to kill, too much time.

The source of the problem.

Thanos wasn't correct but he was right.

And unfortunately it's moot, because eventually the population will catch up, that's the crucial point the movie misses, if you get rid of half the problem will eventually repeat, generations from now but it will repeat.

Gov. Regulation of reproduction is one way the powers that be might want to fix the issue themselves, 1984 essentially. And i'm sure plenty more films have already done that.

Either that or drive women and men apart on a socio-cultural level which is already been happening for the past 30 years since the 90s to 2000 and really kicked off post 2010.

So a fast play and long game play that requires less martial law.

They've been pushing this agenda for yeeears man, Infinity War is good, but it's subtle. And it goes right over people's heads, that's effective propaganda.

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

tie a bird to a cage like a dog to a fencepost

Words: 2817 (AO3)

Originally Posted on 2/5/2024

Summary:

Hawks is pretty sure that if he died tomorrow, nobody would care. Nobody would care on a personal level, at least.

Dabi would probably notice, and care a little bit, considering the lack of info drops and an inability to jerk him around for no good reason. He'd probably be upset for a reason that isn't everybody else's, "oh, he was so young, what a good hero he was!"

For Febuwhump 2024 Day 5: Rope Burns

Keigo's day is already bad and he just woke up half an hour ago.

To be fair, he had to wake up at two in the morning, so not a great start right out the gate. Dabi's expecting him for a meeting in fifteen minutes and he's running on about forty-five minutes of sleep, a can of the disgusting too-thick too-many-espresso-shots canned coffee, and a dream.

He's flying at full speed- because of course the meeting isn't even in Musutafu, and of course Dabi didn't bother to tell him until he texted at two, why the hell should he tell Hawks that, certainly that couldn't possibly be pertinent information at all whatsoever- and his back aches. His everything aches, if he's being totally honest, but his back is the main concern considering that every time he moves his wings a whole mess of muscles back there scream in protest.

He loves the Hero Commission. He has to love the Hero Commission. They bought him, they raised him, they made him what he is now, so he's obligated to love them. He's sure that if they could put it in a contract, they'd have signed his name on it a long time ago.

He doesn't always love the Hero Commission's "extra training." It's not really training, it's torture, it's punishment for whatever mistake he's made this time, but that's what they call it and Hawks isn't one to fight about what words are used for what. The point is, his jacket's rubbing against his arms and the back of his neck really uncomfortably and irritating his already irritated skin.

His heavy flight jacket is usually great, it's not too soft and it's not itchy or anything, it's the perfect kind of thing to put on and forget about- unless, of course, he's injured. Then it's suddenly both the best and worst part of his costume, because it feels like it was designed to irritate even a cat scratch, let alone real injuries, but also because it's very effective at hiding anything that could possibly be wrong with him. He could have one arm out of its sleeve and holding his organs in, and the bulkiness of the jacket would still be able to let him play it off so long as it was zipped shut. It's like being friends with someone who nags him about his bad habits but enables the shit out of them anyway.

Hawks doesn't have anyone like that. He doesn't tell anyone about his bad habits. He has to be perfect, and nobody who's perfect has anything to enable. There's no such thing as a perfect flaw.

He tries to fly just a little bit faster, because maybe if they're both early then they can get the meeting over with faster and Hawks can get back to Musutafu in time to get another ten minutes of sleep before his next shift. Maybe he'll even have the luxury of lotion and another nasty coffee.

Hawks touches down on the outskirts of the city that Dabi directed him to, although 'city' is a very bold word for the quiet-looking town he's landed in. Is this some new level of trust? Is this where their real hideout is, squatting or even paying an innkeeper in a little town in bumfuck nowhere- a little place in the mountains, whose nearest major city is Deika, which is quite possibly the most "bumfuck nowhere" place that has ever qualified as an actual city- instead of bunking in the kinds of cold, abandoned warehouses that Hawks is used to?

To get to the address, Hawks needs to make the rest of the way on foot to avoid being recognized, although in all honesty that might be a moot point, considering that there's not a soul around.

He ducks behind and between buildings anyway, hesitant to go on any main roads considering that he'd worn his costume so that he could play the "hero" card if he was recognized, but that would only arouse more suspicion in a town like this; Dabi could've told him that when arranging the damn meeting, but of course that's not important enough to share.

Thankfully, the place isn't hard to find; it's a simple two-story building, with an open window on the upper floor. There are no lights on inside that he can see from the back, but that doesn't mean much when trying to figure out what kind of building it is, considering that most businesses are closed and most people are asleep around now. Is he supposed to go in the open window, or wait outside?

Does it matter? He asks himself, and quickly shuts that train of thought down. Of course it matters; he's on a mission right now, and Dabi is effectively his Handler, though he probably doesn't see it that way. The Hero Commission has told him that he must do anything and everything to please his contact in order to delve deeper into the League, so if Dabi says "jump," the only correct response is "how high?" He's lived like this for long enough he should be used to it. No reason for him to start thinking otherwise.

A hand sneaks its way out of the open window, and makes a coy little "come hither" gesture; there are pinpricks of reflections being cast on the ledge of the window, and the black nail polish is more chipped off than not, so Hawks knows that it can only be Dabi inside. He debates for a moment on climbing inside, but figures nobody but Dabi will see him fly in anyway, and climbs into the window that way.

Dabi's taken a few steps back, and Hawks takes a moment as he's climbing in to take note of his surroundings; the whole place is so covered in dust that Dabi's footprints from the stairwell are visible, but there's light emanating up from said stairwell, so the place hasn't been completely abandoned. Since Dabi made entrance in the more obvious way instead of by scaling the wall or something, then there must be allies of the League or even League members themselves on the ground floor. There's a bit of junk up here with little sense for style or cohesion; this must be used as a storage space by the current owners of the house. There are a few cardboard boxes with faded writing, an exceptionally ugly rug, and an old couch with a jagged tear running through one of the back cushions, as far as Hawks can see in the immediate area.

"Well? Got what I asked for?" Dabi asks without preamble, one hand in his pocket and the other flicking a lighter with a tempo so consistent he could substitute for a metronome. At least the Handlers bother with pretenses, usually. Dabi never does.

Hawks sighs, because he does have what Dabi asked for and at least this meeting seems like it's going to be over quick. "Yeah. Lady Nagant is on subfloor 9, left wing, cell number 9-B-12." He doesn't know what they want with his pseudo-sister Kaina. He doesn't care to know, either, because if they kill her then he doesn't want to know about it, and if they free her then he needs his plausible deniability so nobody decides to kill him over it. Hawks would very much like to need his plausible deniability, but that's between himself and his feathers.

"Good. Here's your prize, Pretty Bird." Dabi takes his hand out of his pocket and flicks something at Hawks in a single smooth motion; Hawks catches it in one hand without even looking at it, only noticing that it's a flash drive once it's actually in his palm.

Hawks doesn't know if that nickname bothers him or not; on the one hand, he is a pretty bird, thank you for noticing; on the other hand, he doesn't like that Dabi's the one who's doing the noticing- more precisely, he doesn't like that it's a mass-murdering villain who's saying that and maybe meaning it.

On the other other hand... Dabi. Jump. How high.

He has to like it. He has to love the Commission. He has to obey his Handler, no matter what they do, no matter what they say.

Dabi came up closer while Hawks was spacing out- do better, Hawks. Can't let anything sneak up on you like that, that's how you'll get civilians killed. Never how he'll get himself killed, of course. He's disposable, just like Kaina.

Is he going to go to cell number 9-B-12 when this is all over? 9-B-13? Or is he going a little less deep underground, at a much more reasonable six feet below?

Dabi snaps his fingers in front of Hawks' face and he snaps to attention. "Damn, I thought I lost you there. You really like it when I call you that, Pretty Bird?" Dabi asks, his voice slowly shifting to a tone that Hawks knows from movies and parties, the tone that means it's time to go home now or else the Commission's going to get real ugly about it real quick.

... But the mission dictates that Dabi is effectively his Handler. Dabi's asking him to jump here, right?

"So what if I do?" Hawks asks, letting a blush creep up his neck in response to the proximity. He doesn't really care about the name, he's neutral about it, because the two arguments about it canceled each other out. Mostly.

Dabi hums, and lets his ever-present smirk widen ever-so-slightly. He moves his hand so it's no longer in front of Hawks' face, but is instead cupping his cheek. The hand is unexpectedly cold, the tips of Dabi's fingers feeling more icy than his quirk should allow. Bad circulation due to poor health, or else a different component to the quirk that was unknown before now, but probably the former- Hawks is getting distracted, he can't be doing that, not when his mission has taken an entirely new turn and he needs to pay attention.

He should've had more coffee.

"Why don't we find out just how pretty you really are?" Dabi whispers lowly in his ear, sending chills down his spine. He's so close, almost too close, and he doesn't know if he minds all that much. He doesn't know if he should shove him away or not. Dabi seems almost entirely oblivious to his inner frustrations, instead taking the time to nibble lightly on Hawks' ear.

His breath hitches, and Dabi must see that as a clear signal to keep going, because he starts kissing down Hawks' jawline, traveling to his neck and lingering at the collar of his flight suit. He stays there for a moment, and Hawks hesitates- he could take his jacket off, pull away the flight suit, and let this happen; or he can pull away, and risk everything he's built up so far, risk the trust that Dabi's placed in him, risk any further information on the League. He's sure that if he backs away, Dabi won't do anything drastic- he may be a villain, but he's not that kind of villain. Is it bad that Hawks trusts him like that? Probably. The point is, he technically does have the option of backing away.

Does he want to do that? Or does he want to stay, and just keep on jumping?

"Just so you know," Dabi says, almost conversationally, from where he's just finished planting a hickey just above the collar of Hawks' flight suit, "I'm not the kind of guy to mix business and pleasure. The League is business, and this doesn't factor in one way or another."

Hawks doesn't know what Dabi means. He knows what he means- this doesn't affect his standing with the League- but is it out of suspicion, or out of kindness? Is Dabi offering him an out, or is he accusing him of being a honeypot? There's no way he can be certain, there's no way that he can know for sure if stopping this- whatever this is- is going to make Dabi more suspicious of him in turn.

"You ain't gotta do this, Birdie." Is said even quieter in Hawks' ear, and now he's made his choice.

The flight jacket lands on the decrepit couch, and Hawks raises his arms to undo the clasp of his flight suit at the back of his neck- but Dabi catches one of his arms and stops him. Dabi's grip isn't very strong, and he's sure that if he wanted to, he could keep moving, but Dabi wants him to stop, so he'll stop. He owes him that, for the choice that he offered, so he's not going to put up any kind of fight.

"The hell is on your arms?" Dabi sounds angry now, and Hawks had nearly forgotten the evidence that the Commission left of their so-called "training." They used ropes today, and they leave rope burn on his skin pretty easily, hence the reason he was wearing the flight jacket today along with the rest of the uniform. It wasn't the only reason, obviously, but it definitely factored in- it's always best to hide these things to avoid unwanted questions.

... The pragmatic thing would be to hide it. To back out, to say "ah, I've changed my mind, bye!" and never do this again. To lie about it, to say it's from work. To hide the shame of the Hero Commission, because he loves the Hero Commission. If he loves them, then he can't say that they hurt him, because that would cause a whole hell of a lot of problems.

But Dabi is functionally his Handler, and Dabi is telling him to jump.

"Mandatory HPSC training. They tied me up, tested my pain tolerance... nothing unusual." Even to himself, Hawks sounds distant. Dabi doesn't move, instead going stone faced and somehow handling his arm even more lightly than before.

"That's not a Number Two Hero thing." Dabi says it like he knows it for a fact, like it's a truth he's held for longer than Hawks has even been Number Two, instead of what's probably no more than an educated guess. He's right, of course, because Dabi may be a villain but he's usually not wrong about the Pro-Hero business, but Hawks shouldn't tell him that. Technically, it's a betrayal to the Commission, and even though he was told that he should do everything in his power to get that in with the League, he's pretty sure that Madam President would not authorize the disclosure of this particular piece of information.

But Madam President isn't here right now, and Dabi is functionally his Handler. Dabi is telling him to jump. Who is he to refuse?

"No. They own me. They can do whatever they want." Hawks still sounds like he's talking from far away. The only thing reminding him that this is real is Dabi's hand loosely wrapped around his forearm. Is it wrong to not want him to let go?

Dabi's saying something, but it sounds like he's talking underwater. Hawks wants to hear him, really he does, but he's tired and everything hurts and he is done for today, thank you very much. He glances around and sees his flight jacket, and walks towards it almost like he's in a trance. Dabi's still holding onto him, trailing along behind like he's the one being held, and Hawks doesn't know if he hates it or not.

He grabs the jacket and swaps himself with it in one movement. The couch, despite the tear in the back, is comfortable, and his jacket is pretty soft now that his rope burns aren't really bothering him anymore. The jacket is thrown on like a blanket, and Hawks' head hits the armrest easily.

He needs to go home, technically. He needs to go on his next shift. People will be worried without him, he's sure.

Dabi lets go of his arm, and Hawks reaches out to grab his hand. It's warmer now than it was earlier, is that a figment of his imagination or is Dabi doing it on purpose? Either way, it doesn't matter, because Dabi stops in his tracks, hesitates, and sits on the floor while leaning against the spot where Hawks is lying.

"We'll get you out of there, Pretty Bird. I promise." Dabi says it with an intense sincerity, the kind that he's never heard from anyone before. That kind of sincerity is the kind that levels mountains, that stops and starts wars, that keeps his hope alive for another day at a time.

Hawks doesn't believe him, not really. What can the League do? What do they have that Madam President doesn't?

But Dabi wants him to believe him, and Dabi is functionally his Handler. Dabi is telling him to jump.

Hawks thinks he can jump one more time, just for him.

[1greenameba]

Ok i am rather passionate about boxing mostly because the gloves are what is causing the brain damage

This video explains it better besides being almost asmr

Still another thing about boxing and why i personally hate it and the culture around it :

It sucks for self defence .

You're gonna hear boxers say a bunch of crap about how :

You can knock out ppl in one punch ,

You can fight multiple opponents ,

And it works against knives ...

This is a bunch of bologna (or as italians spell it bolloni)

The best combat sport/martial art for self defence is greco roman wrestling ( wrestling but only with upper body holds )

And i will elaborate my point :

1) GR can shut down boxing instantly but boxing can't shut down GR :

The clinch (or really aggressive hugging) is a position where the combatents hold each others upper body like so

This type of engagment will be stopped by the referee in boxing because you can't punch from clinch and so the entire point of boxing becomes moot (the second pic shows muai thai wich allows clinching knees and elbows wich can be thrown from the clinch and do a lot of ouchie)

However GR Wrestling is basically built around the clinch , so a GR wrestler can shut down the entire game plan of a boxer in 5 seconds ...

Punching on the other hand isn't istantaneus , if you're reading this you can't knock out the avarage person with a single punch , i wouldn't rely on it ...

This explains why many boxers clinch but no GR wrestler punches .

One takes away all the weapons the other is a dangerous distraction .

2) nothing prepares you for multiple opponents , besides carrying a weapon or being basically a professional fighter vs talentless drunks ,

There is one thing that works vs multiple peeps and that is knowing how to run away

Like if you're against two unarmed pepole you'll have two throw double the punches and take double .

So four times as difficult at least , your best bet is to flee .

3) on weapon defence :

There is no right way to do knife defence , not many experts survived to develop a tecnique ...

However you're not gonna punch a guy with a knife , because that gets you in stabbing range .

GR does get you in stabbing range , but it gives you the tool to controll the arm with the knife at least

Wich is not a lot , but you're at least not getting stabbed ...

Still the best bet for defending against a knife attacker besides bear spray is to flee .

Like straight up book it !

The objective of self defence is to either controll the threat ( wrestling the sport in wich you have to squash your opponent on his shoulders is the best at it ) or flee from the encounter ( parkour , specifically tag work well for this )

Now , am i qualified to talk about self defence ? No .

Did i learn some informations while being worried about my well being ? Yes .

In my opinion boxing is an unintresting martial art/combat sport ,

There is very little rediming value that can be gathered there that you can't get anywhere else ...

It causes a lot of brain trauma , the way the sport work it's rigged that's why the current champion has a 100-0 record , he could sucessfully get there , same with all boxers who have a flawless record .

Really just fuck boxing .

Boring sport that took many braincells away from humanity .

gfetting thrown out of a boxing match because i keep yelling "umm you pornsick freak jujst because he said you could punch him doesnt mean its okay to do it!! yuou can't 'consent' to violence!" at the boxers