#like i can’t factually prove that but…

[nam-the-nacho]

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Hello! I feel like your response to my defense of Mitsuba’s color palette isn’t entirely accurate, so I’d like to share my opinion on some of your opinions!

This response took a while for its length and lack of time in my life. whoops o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

I’ll address your last point first, because I’d like to get it out of the way.

There isn’t a notion that everyone should like Mitsuba in a specific way, I’m assuming you mean there’s a heavy resentment of Mitsuba hate.

This is true! I myself am sorry for overreacting to the message, although you completely misunderstood the intent of my message it’s correct that the homophobia accusation was over the top lol, I should have reposted my message after thinking it though some more.

Despite this, Mitsuba and homophobia do have a reason for overlapping so often, if you can’t crack that one on your own I would be more than happy to make a follow up post explaining it.

Does not loving Mitsuba automatically make you homophobic? No! The fandom, while it definitely has its problems, won’t force you to love Mitsuba, you can think nothing of him or simply dislike him. Does hating Mitsuba enough to let it seep past your better judgment and hate on a particular aspect of his character in hopes of bothering those who do enjoy him, never providing a source for the hatred homophobic? Maybe not, but the shoe fits very well.

Throughout the entire spitball of yours you continue to paraphrase me incorrectly, “id argue that you going after this person because of a different color taste”- (#｀-_ゝ-) .

Not only was the not at all what I was going for, but that wasn’t what anon was going for either.

That’s what I need you to understand, anon’s ask was not written to purely express his dislike of Mitsuba’s design but to hate on him. I can’t take his opinion on Mitsuba’s colors because of how patently it’s due to his hate for the character. And that’s why I feels so open to judge their bad taste, I don’t believe the problem stems from the actual color palette.

On top of this, you took it upon yourself to narrate their intentions.

Anon doesn't want to simply express their dislike of his colors.

It’s so clearly anon’s dislike for Mitsuba that makes him hate the color palette, the fact that they aren’t usually annoyed with pink and that they added a trigger warning for the character should be evidence enough. And with your mention of being accused of homophobia when mentioning Mitsuba I can assume you at least aren’t fond of him, which proves my point further.

If the only people I’ve seen dislike Mitsuba's color palette conveniently dislike him, well I think the conclusion draws itself.

Btw, the color palette I used was not pulled from any official art but from my mitsubapilled brain. I’m used to painting in which preparing a color palette means mixing the minimum amount of colors you’ll need. For this his palette I used the exception of multiple shades of pink because I thought it would be good to include his pink range (bcs it’s beautiful)

Let’s talk about your palettes then, why you claim it’s reasonable to dislike his color palette. (It's okay to dislike the palette just because of personal preference but I have yet to see that)

I need to get this out of the way rq: I’m not a master at color theory! I’ve never studied art in a professional environment, what I know is self-taught or picked up on the way. However.

The quote; “mitsubas most prominent colors is actually orange” is wrong both factually and spiritually. Looking at what you listed as orange, I can only assume what you meant to say was “Mitsuba’s anime design includes warmer tones” (and a partially orange scarf for the original, that's like 3% at best).

Yes, Mitsuba’s anime design uses a warmer hue for his hair but it’s still undeniably pink. You also listed his skin color and the color of his pants as orange, his skin color fits nicely into his color palette and it’s a blend of the colors it includes, I’m not even going to acknowledge his pants that is not orange ;-;

I’m upset that you’re claiming Mitsuba is 30% orange since you’re using it as reason as to why Mitsuba’s color palette is not that good, when not only are the shades of white in his design cohesive, but you’re using dulled specific versions of the anime only palettes which shockingly makes them look worse, which is cherry-picking.

“in reality, mitsubas greens are barely present, only appearing in his piercing and in his pupil if we look at official art”

“Imbalanced color distribution” Do you know what an accent color is? I don’t think you do.

Definition: An accent color is a secondary or supporting color used sparingly.

It’s meant to be used sparingly, it draws attention to his face and serves and a break from the pink, it adds a pop of new color to him, and helps him blend in nicely in official art where there’s multiple characters and limited colors. It’s his accent color.

Here we see accent colors in use :3

“i think aida executes this much better, because shes able to work with more colors and better understanding of the style”

Yeah, Aida has far better understanding of colors and therefore her drawings of Mitsuba simply look better than the anime’s.

You don’t seem to catch onto the correct problems though. Mitsuba looks worse in the anime because instead of using a similar, lighter shade of the same color as the rest of Mitsuba for his hair, the anime opted to use a completely different pink, I too personally dislike this as it throws some of the cohesiveness his manga color palette has out the window.

The pinks and Mitsuba are beautiful, but that boils down to a matter of opinion.

I was already corrected on the femme thing, I was unaware it could be used as a substitute for feminine (´。＿。｀) , English isn’t my first language so I apologize for this and further mistakes I might make.

Adding one thing to your last point;

 “bringing this up doesn’t mean anon is being mean specifically because theyve been called a homophobe, it is because of the fear that they will be called one”

This doesn’t actually contradict me, just because anon is aware or scared of being called homophobic doesn’t suddenly make their opinion free off all hateful signals, also “anon is being mean”, unless you incorrectly structured the sentence, means you’re aware of anon’s ask being mean, which is distinguishable from just being hateful.

If anon were to express simple dislike for Mitsuba’s color palette without hating on Mitsuba, I would have scrolled on.

For summery!

» "Mitsuba's anime colors can be similar to your palette" -> Not where I got my colors from

» All of your points made about Mitsuba's primary color scheme are not accurate and conveniently only refer to his anime colors

» You don't know what an accent color is

» I don't even understand your point with the inconsistency thing, whether he does or doesn't have a consistent color palette in the manga doesn't matter because we don't even address said palettes

» Anon and you are both allowed to dislike the palettes but that's not what's my point and you fail to catch onto that

» Homophobia is not to be taken lightly and I'm sorry

» Anon isn't "scared of being called out due to an opinion difference" they're successfully ragebating, and bringing up homophobia as a taunt over a fear

» Not dismissing their opinion as much as I'm debunking why it's biased and therefore doesn't hold value as an opinion

^ Mitsuba! He's cool

ps: ocelotlesbian absolutely despises your understanding of color theory

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i dont really like mitsubas design,,, its way too pink for me and its such an awful one at that,,, like it couldnt have been pastel pink??? it couldnt have been a nicer shade??? instead we get this whatever pink like ew 🤢 i love pink femme designs on both men and women and anyone but this one is just ugly,,,and yeah whatever accuse me of being homophobic or something because the bleeding pink burns my eyes lol

TW: M**suba (/hj)

〜 📻

[angelicathedaisy]

me an asexual: don’t you think sex is a little unhygienic

[bueckers555]

CAN’T STAND YOU — nika muhl x reader

summary: in which, you and nika show each other just how much you can’t stand one another

warnings: smut smut and more smut

authors note. part two of the pazzi x reader fic will be up soon but first, my girl nika cuz one too many angry edits of her popped up so this is what my head came up with ITS OVULATION WEEK SORRY

No one on the team could pinpoint when it started—least of all you or Nika Mühl.

Maybe it was during that first practice when you’d hustled for a loose ball and she’d beaten you to it, smirking as she dribbled away like she’d just claimed some unspoken victory. Or maybe it was the time she’d called out your positioning in a drill, her tone sharp and clipped, like you were a rookie who didn’t belong on the same court as her. Whatever it was, the seed had been planted, and it grew into something jagged and unyielding, a mutual loathing neither of you could shake.

It wasn’t loud or showy at first. You didn’t scream in each other’s faces or throw punches in the gym. It was quieter, colder— a slow burn that everyone felt but no one could fix.

You’d roll your eyes when she took the lead in huddles, her voice cutting through the air with that unshakable confidence. She’d scoff when you ran a play, muttering something under her breath about your footwork or your timing.

The team noticed, though—they always did. Paige would shoot Aaliyah a look, a silent “not this again,” while the freshmen shuffled awkwardly, unsure where to stand when the tension thickened.

On the court, it was a different beast. You were both too good to let it tank the game outright, but it showed in the cracks. During a fast break, you’d hesitate just a split second before passing to her, the ball leaving your hands with a little too much force, like you were daring her to miss. She’d catch it, of course—she was Nika Mühl, she didn’t miss much—but the glare she’d send your way could’ve burned a hole through the hardwood.

When she drove to the basket, you’d hang back instead of setting the screen she needed, forcing her to twist through defenders alone. She’d still score half the time, but the other half, she’d turn it over, and you’d feel a flicker of grim satisfaction.

“Run the play right next time,” she’d say after, her voice low and flat as you jogged back on defense. Not accusatory—just factual, like she was stating the weather. It pissed you off more than if she’d yelled.

“Maybe if you didn’t hog it, I would,” you’d mutter, loud enough for her to hear but not enough to draw Geno’s attention. She’d pretend she didn’t, but the way her shoulders stiffened told you she had.

The team adapted. They had to. Paige started calling the shots more, acting as a buffer, while KK quietly nudged you both toward open spots to keep the offense flowing. But it was a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

During one game against a ranked opponent, you’d both gone for the same rebound—neither of you calling it—and ended up colliding, the ball slipping through your hands and out of bounds. The crowd groaned, and Nika’s eyes met yours for a split second, sharp and furious, before she turned away. Coach benched you both for the next few minutes, his jaw tight, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

Off the court, it was subtler but no less brutal. In the weight room, you’d push yourself harder when she was around, stacking plates on the bar until your arms shook, just to prove a point. She’d do the same, her reps silent and relentless, never looking your way but always aware. At team dinners, you’d sit at opposite ends of the table, your conversations with others clipped whenever she spoke up. The team stopped trying to force you together after a while—why bother when it always ended the same?

No one knew why it ran so deep. You couldn’t explain it yourself. She wasn’t cruel, not really—just infuriatingly self-assured, like she’d already sized you up and found you lacking. And you weren’t petty, but something about her set your teeth on edge—maybe the way she carried herself, like the court was hers and you were just borrowing space. It wasn’t jealousy; you were too good for that. It wasn’t even personal, not at first. It just was, a reflex neither of you could unlearn.

By the time that bad game rolled around, the tension had a pulse of its own. You’d both been off: your shots rimmed out, her passes sailed wide. The mistakes weren’t all on one of you, but it didn’t matter. Every missed opportunity became a weapon, every fumble a reason to point the finger. The final buzzer sounded, and the loss sank in, heavy and bitter. You caught her eye as you walked off the court, her expression a mirror of your own—frustration, blame, and something darker simmering beneath.

The team saw it coming. They always did. But this time, when the locker room door swung shut behind you, it wasn’t just another cold standoff. It was the breaking point.

The locker room was suffocating with tension after the game—a brutal loss that left the team reeling. The scoreboard had mocked them: 72-68, a four-point deficit that felt like a chasm.

Everyone knew who’d been at each other’s throats all night: you and Nika Mühl. The star guard’s fiery glare had met your own more times than the ball had hit the rim, and the team was sick of it.

“Great job out there, huh? Maybe if you’d passed the damn ball instead of hogging it, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” you snapped, slamming your locker shut. Your voice echoed off the metal, sharp enough to cut through the murmurs of your teammates.

Nika whirled around, her dark hair still damp with sweat, eyes blazing. “Me? You’re the one who missed three wide-open shots in the fourth quarter. My grandma could’ve made those with her eyes closed, and she’s half-blind!”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, stepping closer, your chest heaving from the adrenaline still pumping through you. “Your ass had two turnovers trying to show off with those fancy ass dribbles. Maybe stick to the basics next time, hotshot.”

The rest of the team exchanged looks—Paige Bueckers rolled her eyes and muttered, “Here we go again,” while Azzi Fudd grabbed her bag and bolted for the door. They’d seen this dance before: you and Nika, two storms colliding, leaving wreckage in your wake. No one dared intervene anymore.

It was pointless. Like trying to get a shark and bear get along: stupid and a waste of time.

Nika’s jaw tightened, her lips curling into a sneer. “Shit, at least I’m not the one who let their girl blow past them for that game-tying layup. You’re a mess.”

You laughed, bitter and cold. “A mess? Says the one who fouled out with two minutes left. Real fucking clutch, Mühl.”

She stepped closer, her breath hot against your face, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Keep talking. See where it gets you.”

The air crackled between you, thick with rage and something else—something unspoken that had been simmering for weeks. Your teammates had scattered now, leaving the locker room empty except for the two of you, the silence amplifying every ragged breath.

“Fuck you, Nika,” you hissed, shoving her shoulder.

She didn’t budge, just grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer, her grip bruising. “Fuck you,” she spat back, her lips inches from yours.

And then—chaos. You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly her mouth was on yours, all teeth and fury, a kiss that felt more like a fight. You shoved her against the lockers, the clang of metal ringing out as your hands tangled in her hair, pulling hard. She groaned—a sound that was half-anger, half-need—and bit your lip, drawing a sharp hiss from you.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you muttered against her mouth, your hands already under her jersey, nails raking down her back.

“Shut up,” she growled, spinning you around so your back hit the cold steel. Her fingers were rough, tugging at your shorts, yanking them down with no patience. “You piss me off.”

“Good,” you snarled, kicking the fabric aside and pulling her closer, your thigh slotting between her legs. She was still in her uniform, sweaty and disheveled, and the sight of her—pupils blown, chest heaving—made your stomach twist with want.

Her hands found your hips, digging in as she ground against you, her breath hitching. “Fuckin’ always got sum to say,” she taunted, but her voice cracked when your fingers slipped beneath her waistband, finding her already soaked. “Fuck—”

“Keep talking,” you mocked, echoing her earlier threat as you pressed two fingers inside her, curling them hard. She gasped, her head tipping back against the locker, and the sound sent a jolt straight through you.

She didn’t back down, though—never did. Her hand slid between your thighs, mirroring your movements, and the sudden pressure made your knees buckle. “You’re such a bitch,” she whispered, her thumb circling you with ruthless precision, “can’t fucking stand you.”

The words hit like a punch, and you hated how they made you clench around her fingers. You retaliated, adding a third finger, pumping faster, deeper, until her thighs trembled and her insults dissolved into broken moans. The locker room smelled of sweat and sex, the air thick with the sound of your ragged breathing and the wet, desperate rhythm of your bodies.

“Fuck, Nika—” you choked out, your free hand gripping her shoulder as she pushed you to the edge, her fingers relentless. She smirked, even as her own voice shook, “Say it again.”

You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, but your body betrayed you, shuddering as she tipped you over, your release crashing through you like a tidal wave. You clung to her, nails biting into her skin, and she followed seconds later, her hips jerking against your hand as she came with a string of curses in Croatian you barely understood.

But it wasn’t enough—not for either of you. The anger still burned, fueling something primal. You shoved her onto the bench, straddling her before she could recover, and she pulled you down with a wicked grin, her hands guiding your hips to grind against her thigh. The friction was maddening, too much and not enough all at once, and soon you were both chasing that high again—overstimulated, oversensitive, but too stubborn to stop.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” she panted, her voice raw as she gripped your waist, her touch bruising in the best way.

“Then die,” you shot back, but the words lost their venom as you came again, harder this time, your vision blurring. She laughed—breathless, triumphant—and pulled you into another messy, desperate kiss, her tongue claiming you like she’d won the argument.

When it was over, you collapsed against her, both of you sweaty, trembling messes. The locker room was silent again, save for your heavy breathing. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the weight of what just happened settling in.

Finally, Nika muttered, “We’re still fucked for the next game.”

You snorted, too exhausted to argue. “Yeah. But at least we’re good at this.”

She smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and for once, there was no venom in her eyes—just a flicker of something softer. “Truce?”

“For now,” you said, and you both knew it wouldn’t last.

[heartyluv]

Note: This is a little self indulgent because despite how cringey these movies are, I loveee Fifty Shades of Grey. Was never really a Jamie Dornan girlie, but I felt this worked the best. I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this, my luv. And thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you enjoy! Please —Click Here— to view the ask if you’d like!

Warning: Zayne’s a little jelly, but it’s nothing serious.

Word Count: 946 ~ i’m sorry if this is too short :(

Zayne/Reader

Your boyfriend was having an…interesting time, trying to figure out what about this film had you captivated. What about this woman blindly trusting and agreeing to have—something be ruled as explorative—sex with a rich stranger, had you so infatuated. So much so that you’ve watched it dozens of times.

“Why would he tell her that she must steer clear of him if he’s the one who invited her out for coffee in the first place? Surely he could tell she wasn’t someone to care only for the physical aspects of a relationship.” He was completely perplexed.

Zayne wasn’t a fan of romance movies. Not because they were inferior or anything, they simply weren’t his cup of tea. And scenes like this proved to him why he felt that way.

“It’s to build the characters and the foundation for his development, babe,” you chuckled. “He wants her, but can’t have her type of thing.”

“He is a billionaire and she clearly seems willing to indulge him. In fact, he’s the one to push her away. What is the issue?”

Your sweet and very matter-of-fact lover has always reminded you of an alien trying to understand Earth and the behaviors of humans for the first time when it came to him attempting to enjoy some of the things that you liked. He would always join you when you asked and if he was available, but you knew to be prepared for him to ask you all kinds of questions to better understand.

You honestly loved it, being able to enlighten him about things in the same way he does you with absolutely, well—everything. Even if it’s fiction, you still were like his trusted guide.

He occasionally looked between you and the screen as you two sat cuddled up on the couch, beginning to realize that it wasn’t particularly the movie itself and its…questionable story that always brought you back.

It was the man.

He noticed how you’d bite your lip and smile when this Christian Grey would say lines so cliche and cringey that it nearly made his eyebrows touch.

“You like him.” It wasn’t a question. Factually, an observation.

You turn to look at him, pressing your lips together to suppress your smile. “He’s like…my celebrity crush, kinda. I guess. But you’re my boo, Zayne. You know that.”

“I do,” he responds with confidence. “This crush. I didn’t know you had one. I can’t decide if it’s cute or not.”

You pout your lips and smile fully this time, gently nudging his side. “Awww, don’t tell me you’re jealous, babe.”

“I’m not—” His jaw clenches and the blue light of the TV lets you see how his ears began to tinge red. He looks back at the screen. “Jealous isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

The movie progresses and Zayne knew there would be sex involved based on the brief description you gave to convince him to watch it with you. What he didn’t expect was the first time between the two characters, to be so intimate.

The music, the atmosphere—it was certainly unique for the type of trope that was being portrayed.

He looked over at you again subtly, his perfect brows raising when he sees how intensely you stare at the way Christian pulled Ana’s jeans down. How your thighs shifted and pressed together beneath the blankets when he kissed down her stomach until he got between her legs.

It was very easy as your man and your doctor to notice subtle changes about you. So naturally, he saw the way your breath increased and stared closer to see how your heartbeat was thumping faster right beneath your jaw.

Even how your damn pupils dilated when Christian ripped the foil wrapper of the condom open between his teeth.

Yeah, he was cutting this off.

You were taken out of your trance-like state when he grabbed the remote and paused the film, leaning over to turn the lamp on.

“Zayne!” you exclaim with a slight whine. “Why’d you stop it like that?!”

“Are you aroused?” He asks you so flatly and abruptly that it’s amusing. Well, it would be if you weren’t being questioned like you were sitting on his examination table and not in your living room.

“What does that even matter?!”

“Because your answer will determine if we will continue watching.”

“So you are jealous!”

“Can you blame me for feeling that way? You’re close to drooling over everything this…person says and does like you wouldn’t be cringing from inside out if you heard any of it in real life.”

“Oh, pooka butt.” Your tone raises a few octaves like you’re trying to coddle a baby. The corner of his mouth tilts in slight amusement at your teasing. as you pull him in to wrap your arms around him.

“Come to mama,” you coo when you squeeze him tight. “You know how much I love you, Zayne. In every universe and in any crowded room full of thousands of Jamie Dornans, I’d always pick you.”

“Frankly, I wouldn’t give you a choice, but the sentiment is…sweet, I suppose.”

“Okayyyyy,” you stretch out the syllable with an exaggerated, but playful sigh. “Don’t ruin my attempt to assure and love on you.”

“You’re right. My apologies. Please,” he presses a kiss right below your ear. “Continue.”

“If I continue anything, it won’t be with words…” you flirt.

“Actions do tend to show you what words can’t, or so I’ve heard. Maybe you should prove how much you love me.”

Creds to @/sweetmelodygraphics for the dividers!

A/N: I honestly don’t know how well I did with this…Time to shut my phone down LOLLL

[eamour]

the way you manifest.

everybody has a different way of manifesting. some like to script, some like to affirm, and some like to just visualise their desires. however, some methods seem to work for some but don’t really work on others. why is that so?

the law of assumption.

now, the reason behind why everybody seems to have their own way of manifesting or why certain manifestation methods and techniques you cannot seem to be successful with can still ensure other people success is because of the LAW. once again, it's called the law of assumption — and it operates with BELIEF. what you assume or believe to be true, has to be true.

everything is an assumption.

in practice, this means that these methods and techniques seem to "function" well for some because they ASSUME that they will function well for them. on the contrary, the methods and techniques that you believe won’t help you manifest, eventually won’t help you. another example is that you might believe affirming might not work for you but works really good for others. the result: everyone can manifest with the use of affirmations except you.

no preassigned meaning.

it is important to not that with the law, nothing actually is the way it is and nothing is promised to remain the way it is… not unless you say otherwise. in this reality, things aren’t factual, forever or fixed. they don’t have any meaning attached to them. YOU give them meaning first.

the creator's rules.

if you know how the law works, you know that you can use it to your advantage. you can decide how you want to manifest by coming up with your own rules and correctly applying them. you can even influence the way a method or a technique will function for you. and not just methods and techniques! here are some examples for rules you could have:

rule one · i always manifest within 2 days.

rule two · manifesting is easy for me.

rule three · i can manifest even if i feel sad.

loopholes in manifesting.

now, what are loopholes in manifesting? a loophole is an ambiguity or inadequacy in the law or a set of rules, according to its official definition. in more simple words, they are subjective rules you have set up to simplify manifesting. you could almost say they are "cheat codes", coding the way you manifest.

you know, there are rules to manifesting. actually, there is only one: your assumptions create. for an assumption to manifest, you need to believe in it. now, i'm not saying you can’t have doubts, but there has to be at least a little belief in there, somewhere. now, see how i said "somewhere"? what i mean is that somewhere within the process of manifesting, there needs to be BELIEF.

1 · belief in assumption. you can believe in having your desire and manifest it.

2 · belief in method. you can believe that doing a method xyz times makes you manifest your desire.

3 · belief in self. you can believe that you always manifest your desires.

this is why many people who robotically affirm can manifest. they have the assumption that they either don’t need to believe their assumptions to manifest or that simply doing the method guarantees them their desire. other loopholes could be that only desirable thoughts of you manifest or that affirming once is enough for you.

the best way to manifest.

knowing all of this, it is clear to say one thing: there is no best or perfect way to manifest. technically, they are all the same. since manifesting is personal, it is your decision to decide which methods work for you or not, which techniques get you better or quicker results. and remember, all methods and techniques are all equally accessible to you. you don’t have to do anything beforehand. you don’t have to prove yourself to be worthy or deserving for a method to work for you. again, YOU are the creator.

manifesting is personal.

in conclusion, we all manifest similarly but still differently — and that’s alright! each one of us is an individual and the way we apply the law is personal. that being said, feel free to come up with your own rules! make the law work for you the way YOU would like it to and remain faithful to your rules. that way you can make manifesting a lot more easier.

with love, ella.

[rowdyluv]

Insta Edit ✩ Jack Hughes

“You can’t ‘out’ what has always been here.”

Summary: a gossip page thinks they’re outing Jack’s relationship but he turns it around on them.

Requested: yes / no

Warnings: all pictures are from Pinterest. none are actually Jack. use of “youruser” and one (y/n)

Authors Note: please keep in mind everything written in edits like the one below, in AUs, or fics/blurbs is completely fictional but may happen to fall in line with factual life events. Just because the storyline may line up with day-to-day life in some way it is not intentional. Unless noted before hand.

nj.hockeytea

liked by user63, user22, and 12,438 others

tagged: jackhughes, youruser

nj.hockeytea: These pictures sent in by an anonymous user of Jack Hughes and a mystery girl. The message attached with their pictures:

Jack and his family were staying in a beach house [redacted]. This girl came with them. So she isn’t a random hook up. Unless he picked her up at the airport but by the way he was all over her I doubt that’s the story. When they were outside and it was just the two of them it was pure couple stuff, but if his brothers were around she became one of them. I don’t know if she’s trying too hard or if she’s just that in with them.

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user98 ➤ shes been seen with jack before

user3 ➤ could they not give them privacy???

jackhughes ➤ she isnt a mystery girl, she is MY girl and has been my girl.

⟱youruser ➤ jackhughes dont get too worked up j, they just want something to get excited about.

jackhughes

liked by _quinnhughes, njdevils, lhughes_06, and 84,387

tagged: youruser

jackhughes: (y/n) and I have never believed that we have to post one another to prove our love to each other. We have have never believed that we should have to come straight out to the media and say “hey we’re together!!” That is why you don’t see these pictures or any other. Our lives are chaotic and when we are together we want to be able to freeze time just like anyone else but it be for us, not the world.

comments have been limited by user

_quinnhughes➤ did jack just go soft...

⟱jackhughes ➤ shut up. ill be anything i need to be for (youruser)

youruser ➤ jack, you have always been the sweetest. except when you let your brothers dump ice cream on me when we were 12. :( but i wouldnt trade you for anything or anyone

youruser

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, and 287 others

youruser: im begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, thats my maaaan♡︎

trevorzegras➤ hes going to be so upset you used swift lyrics and he wrote a book

_quinnhughes➤ ignore the idiot above me

_quinnhughes➤ your account is private no one would see if you called out media

_quinnhughes ➤ trevorzegras rowdy is probably staring at them in the pictures and hasn’t looked at the caption

youruser➤ im going to block u spammer

jackhughes➤ willow is damn jam

lhughes_06➤ dear god youruser what did you do to my brother. 23 years around each other is too long…….

⟱youruser➤ too bad youre stuck with me lukie pookie, im here forever. because i said YES.

[dizzyduck44]

F1 influencers are the worst thing to happen to Formula 1. They are responsible for 95% of the hate teams and drivers get. Parroting things they hear in commentary (regardless of whether it was proved wrong later) or just taking another influencers hot take that got good numbers and running with it.

And don’t even get me started with the young girls who follow these treads. Because all it does is fuel men to reinforce their view women aren’t entitled to an opinion in F1.

I know there is the potential for great content to be out there. I’ve seen it. Fans posting and explaining telemetry. Fans who diligently post full quotes when driver’s interviews are taken out of context. Hell some of the stuff I’ve done reaching back into F1’s history and how it has evolved into what we see now. (Which I won’t lie is very much the approach of Josh Revell - who’s content always comes with the attitude this could age like cheese in the sun ok, just don’t be a dick about it or to each other).

People know how to form an opinion based on data and radio messages and probability, not what they wanted to happen and didn’t do now need someone to blame. They are just not the ones who seem to be making content.

I’ve seen on account today complaining that Jacques Villeneuve needs to get off her screen. You know Formula 1 World Champion Jacques Villeneuve. Son of F1 legend Giles Villeneuve. His insight into a race is going to be far more valuable than anything a tiktoker or YouTuber is going to produce. You don’t have to agree with him, but at least respect his right to that opinion, whether you want to hear it or not!

And don’t even get me started on some of the post race “gradings”. I’m now certain they are 1000% ragebait.

Don’t get me wrong, there is some good content being made. Some factual, some humorous. There is just too much out there of people talking to a knowledgeable F1 community with the aura of walking into Apple and saying “I can’t even code” 🤷‍♀️. And they sadly seem to be the ones getting numbers and fuelling hate campaigns against drivers. Hence why I’ve stopped engaging with most of them.

[sspookyspoonss]

I know nothing about Doctor Who except what friends occasionally excitedly tell me. I am also bored. Here is an undoubtably factual explanation of each of the ‘new?’ Doctors:

Doctor…. Who??????:

I know nothing about this guy. Nobody I know talks about Christopher Eccleston nor have I caught wind of any internet discussion. My conclusion is there is a conspiracy to not talk about him for no reason other than the fandom got bored and thought it would be funny. I think this Doctor would like to go to football matches and would get very upset if the team he likes doesn’t win. You would probably randomly meet him at a pub and would have a nice chat with him, however, he’d take you back to the Tardis and you would most likely die via Dalek plunger (a thing I am informed they can kill you with). I also think he would like watching reality TV, he gives of that vibe.

Tumblr Doctor:

The internet likes this guy. David Tennant is cool, so I understand. I think this is ‘wibbly wobbly timey wimey’ guy so I am inclined to think that he also says things like ‘milkys’ and ‘dindins’ to his friends. Even if he is not ‘timey wimey’ guy I still think he still would say ‘milkys’ and the like, gives off that vibe.

He has some angst to do with a woman. I’m not sure why but I’m guessing it’s to do with Thomas Edison. The Doctor knows he stole most of his inventions because he can time travel and saw it happen, not stopping him is one of the Doctor’s greatest failures, however, his lady friend is a victim of the British Education system and thinks otherwise. They break up over it, angst ensues, Thomas Edison has ruined someone else’s life even after he’s dead.

‘I don’t like this guy’ Doctor:

I do not like this Doctor, worst one. Nothing against Matt Smith or his performance, I’m sure it was brilliant, I’ve seen that Van Gough clip and it made me cry 10/10. More importantly than that however, my supposed childhood best friend who was actually just bullying and manipulating me said he was her favourite so I look at him and remember I wasted my childhood with her. He can make it up to me if he time travels and gets child me a better friend. Then he will be the best Doctor.

He or Tumblr Doctor has a wife????? I think???? I’m not sure but which one it is but because of my bias I’m saying it’s this guy. I know it’s dodgy because of time travel so he needs to go to space jail (or as Tumblr Doctor probably calls it, the ‘Naughty Step’). I’m assuming they also have a child, making every reincarnation of the Doctor from here on out a deadbeat who needs to pay A LOT of child support. That is why he regenerated, so he could avoid paying it, ‘Court can’t prove I’m the Dad if I don’t have his face.’ Arsehole.

Screwdriver scandal TM Doctor:

He looks like a nice guy. This Doctor would sit you down and give you a therapy session after you nearly get killed by a Weeping Angel. I would like having a talk with him, it would be nice. I feel like he is the most well adjusted Doctor, although that could just be Peter Capaldi’s immaculate vibes. This Doctor pays his taxes. He doesn’t like Paddington Bear for some reason. Due to his well adjustedness, I am lead to believe the twist in Paddington 3 is that Paddington is The Master (who I think is a villain) and will go on a rampage across London, turning people into Marmalade. It will be up to the Doctor and the family I’ve forgotten the name of, to stop him. This would also provide an explanation for why the Mum’s actor has changed, to fix Paddingtons mess they had to time travel which led to the Dad marrying a different woman.

He threw away the Sonic Screwdriver apparently. Previously mentioned childhood best friend complained to no end about it to me. Knowing fanbases other people were also likely very upset, I’m guessing it felt like it did to me when Luke Skywalker chucked his lightsaber over his shoulder in The Last Jedi. I also think Screwdrivergate is a tragedy because they didn’t take the opportunity to replace the Screwdriver with another, even sillier, Sonic _______. I suggest either a Sonic Scented Candle or a Sonic Keyring. Alas, it was not to be.

‘WOMAN AAAAAAAAAAAAA’ Doctor:

People don’t like her because woman. People also don’t like her because of bad writing. Last time I checked, neither of these are Jodie Whittaker’s fault. I don’t have much to say about her except my new, (actually great this time) friend who likes Doctor Who has an emotional reaction every time she is brought up. Genuine sadness and disappointment in my friends eyes. I suggest that this means this is a fantastic Doctor, to the point it is art. A sign of good art is something that garners a strong emotional reaction. Despair at the state of the franchise and societies misogyny may not have been the intention, but a strong reaction is incurred nonetheless, so success, this is art now.

‘Guess Who’s back!’ Doctor:

Erm, not sure how in canon this works but David Tennant seems to be having a nice time so it’s good. The alternative name for this Doctor is ‘Production Budget Doctor’ because from the ends of episodes I’ve seen (I watch Strictly Come Dancing because ooo pretty dresses and it’s on after) the Tardis looks very fancy and like it’s from a big budget film. Coffee also got spilled on it which is funny because it messed the Tardis up, meaning not even the technology of a near God can withstand dumbass humans with liquids. Hilarious. Also, an apt metaphor for many things.

In conclusion: I’m sorry for any brain damage caused to the good members of the Doctor Who fanbase who read this. Have a nice day.



[cheri-cheri]

One-shot: Folded Away

Genre: Angst with no comfort... This is a story where you are not MC (ಡ‸ಡ)

Synopsis: In a relentless cycle of control and erasure, the mind of a Fleet officer fractures when a seemingly innocuous paper crane finds its way back to her.

You live the same day over and over.

Wake up. Train. Patrol the Deepspace Tunnel. Write reports. Rest. Rinse and repeat.

The days bleed into each other. You can hardly remember what life was like before the Fleet, nor why you chose to be here in the first place.

Patrols are dangerous, but even the worst injuries are treated with clinical efficiency, repairing you swiftly for your next mission.

Your reports are cold and factual. Even the most harrowing and fear-inducing experiences are distilled into objective data for the Fleet's research. The Toring Chip ensures that.

The chip is mandatory. Embedded in every Farspace Fleet officer, it mutes what the higher-ups call imperfections: fear, regret, longing, joy. You were told that it makes you more efficient, more obedient, more useful.

Adjutant Liam approaches you after a debrief.

“You dropped this,” he says, his voice monotone as always as he holds out a small item. "From your pocket."

You squint.

The item is made out of paper, folded from a page of a lined notebook. It looks like some kind of creature with its wings outstretched, head bowed. A crane, perhaps?

"It's not mine."

Your voice comes out flatter than intended, filtered through the chip’s constant calibration. Still, something about the delicate paper crane snags at your attention. Liam’s hand lingers in the air between you, patient.

He studies you with quiet curiosity as you reach out for it. Then, without a word, he places the paper crane gently on your palm and walks away.

You stand there in the hallway, the fragile little thing resting in your hand. It doesn't belong to you. You're certain about that.

And yet, something about it feels familiar.

Uncomfortably familiar.

You turn it over and over in your hands. The shape, the folds, the weight...

Somewhere in the quiet recesses of your mind, images stir from a fog. For a moment, you can’t tell if these images belong to your memories or to one of your many dreams.

In the hazy images, you were resting in the infirmary ward, wounds fresh after the crash on Cloudrealm IV. Colonel Caleb had come to visit. He hadn’t said much. He never did. His hands were always gloved, his uniform always immaculate, his mind always distant.

But before he left, he placed a paper crane on the bedside table.

“I was told that paper cranes symbolize healing. I trust that my adjutant will have a swift and steady recovery.”

You had treasured it. In those long, dreary days in the infirmary where your thoughts were dulled by a blend of pain and medication, it was the only thing that felt real.

You had turned it over and over in your hands, memorising its shape, its folds, its weight.

And you had somehow forgotten about it.

Or rather, the chip had made you forget.

And now, the crane and the unwanted memories it carried on its wings had found their way back to you.

You had always been closest to Colonel Caleb... or so you assumed. While he was always cordial and professional, there were fleeting moments between missions where he’d glance at you with something that looked like he saw you as more than a mere weapon. A year of proving your competence and loyalty to the Fleet made you an indispensable companion to Colonel Caleb and Adjutant Liam.

Your breath would catch during those moments. Somewhere, buried under layers of code and calibration, something still fluttered in your chest. A tether to your humanity or what remained of it.

But the chip didn’t tolerate humanity. It didn’t tolerate imperfection. It didn’t tolerate weakness.

One afternoon after you recovered, you made your way to Colonel Caleb’s office with the paper crane in hand, wanting to express your gratitude in person. The afternoon you saw him in the corridor with her was the afternoon the chip finished its work. She had muttered something under her breath, lips curved in what you registered as a playful pout.

And Caleb... he smiled.

It wasn't the same polite, measured upturn of lips that he would give you whenever you submitted a meticulously written report or when you presented a combat strategy that he agreed with.

That smile was different. Unrestrained. Warm. It softened his face, made him look unfamiliar. It was unguarded, light, and free.

For a moment, you felt as though your surroundings were dissolving around you. Sound and sight were gone. Only the distance between you and him remained. And the quiet yet cacophonous truth that it was a smile that would never be meant for you.

The hollow tug in your chest evolved into a sharp splintering from deep within. Something human was trying to claw its way to the surface.

And the Toring Chip responded instantly.

It pulsed to life, sending a surge of invisible static fizzling behind your eyes. Too many signals. Too much noise. Your heart rate was spiking.

Emotional variance beyond the acceptable range.

Emotion was instability.

Emotion was deviation.

Emotion was imperfection.

The chip did what it was designed to do.

The erasure was swift. Brutal in its precision.

One moment you were frozen, chest tight, breath shallow, fingers clenched around the paper crane as if it could anchor you to something real. You could still feel the ache. You could still feel.

And then you felt nothing.

Your grip loosened. The tremor in your hand stilled. The weight behind your ribs lifted, not with peace, but with absence. Your thoughts cleared.

The paper crane remained in your hand, but it was just that now: paper. Folded, meaningless, and useless.

You looked down at it, unblinking.

There were so many things to take care of. What were you doing standing here holding onto this random piece of paper?

Your hastily stuffed it into your pocket and spun on your heel.

You had countless tasks to complete. A schedule to follow. Reports to file.

You jolt back to the present, breath caught in your throat. The corridor. The smile. The ache.

The Toring Chip was still imperfect.

Whatever code was meant to suppress memories clearly malfunctioned. You make a mental note to speak with the higher-ups to get the chip fixed as soon as possible. This level of cognitive disruption could pose critical risk if it were to happen during a mission.

Your gaze drops to the paper crane in your hand.

What a useless, fragile thing.

Without thinking, your fingers tighten, crumpling the paper into an unrecognisable ball.

You cross the hall, dropping it into a bin. It lands with a hollow rustle, louder than it had any right to be.

You linger for a few seconds, staring into the bin.

And you try to ignore the sense that a part of you had been discarded along with it.

❀ ( ´ ꒳ ` )/ Thanks for reading! The way Liam shielded Caleb from his own son in [World Underneath - Sketches] hurt my soul in an unspeakable way and so I had to write this to cope LOL

❀ Masterlist

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

hihi!!! your oc is so cute! ^^ could you you please write some headcanons or a short one shot with mereo x fem!reader on her period? thank you sm! :D

Hiya~! :3 Thank you!! I'm so happy to hear that you like her T^T <3

Yes! I was in the middle of writing her for something else, and this proved to come at a suitable time to try and align myself with writing for her again. So, I hope you enjoy~

Pairing: Mereoleona x f!reader Fanfic type: Oneshot Genre: romance, fluff Length: ~0.7k Contains: talk about periods and period pain, not much else, has fluff, Mereo giving a word of comfort in her own way

It was again that time of the month. Though you tried to power through it, despite feeling the approaching cramps, discomfort and pain. Because you knew that the world wouldn’t stop, just because you’d have your time of the month again.

An unfortunate fact.

But. You’d try your best to not let it out on those around you. Because you didn’t want to be mean to them, even though they’d understand that you’re just in pain constantly, which made things… especially your temper, more difficult. Your energy levels would be down, and you’d find it more difficult to concentrate on things.

Which wasn’t unordinary by any means.

If you were anyone else than Mereoleona, that is.

It just seemed so … strange. Like, it wasn’t that you could have imagine the proud, uncrowned, undefeated lioness struggling in period pains previously, but after starting to date her she just… never seemed to show signs of it. Her temper remained always the same. No particular fatigue. Never complained about being in pain.

And once you had had to ask about it. About how she just… pushed through it.

Her reply had been a shrug, and an utterance of how she didn’t feel that much of… anything, while on her period. Sure, there was a sense of weight. Sometimes discomfort in her lower stomach. And bleeding constantly was hardly the most pleasant of sensations, but all in all ‘it wasn’t that bad’.

‘It wasn’t that bad’.

To her.

Which had made you, for a while, want to just try to… suck it up, and carry on. Just like she did.

Only that… maybe her pains just… weren’t as bad as yours? People had different levels of pain, so maybe this was just about that. Or then she had hardened herself during the years she had spent in the wilderness. So, she had a rather large head-start when it came to that.

And you couldn’t just… will the pain away. On a particularly bad cycle.

“I’m sorry but then pains are just.. too bad, now,” you told her at the side of the training grounds while holding your stomach.

Her eyes turned to you, as she stood there, like the pilar of strength that she was, with her arms crossed. And then she nodded.

But as you began walking past her, she followed, without a word. Until you were an adequate distance away from the rest.

“I’m not.. as good with pain as you,” you half admitted, half mused with melancholy.

���There are different kinds of pain,” she replied. Her tone wasn’t angry, or adamant, but more… factually gentle.

Your head turned to her, as you walked down the corridor. But no words left your lips.

“Some pains should be pushed through. And those are the kinds that make you stronger, in the end. But some pains, just exist. And while you can’t do anything with them, other than persevere, they subside, in the end.”

For some reason it sounded like she was talking a little about the world, and not just period pains. But… the logic applied, just the same.

“Besides, people tell me that warmth helps with period pains in particular,” she added. “And given how I’m so warm, it wouldn’t surprise me if that had something to do with how I seem to be getting off easier on that aspect.”

A faint chuckle left you, because there seemed to be an attempt of a joke in the statement.

Of which the faint smirk on her lips spoke.

“But… perhaps I can spare a little of the warmth,” she grinned while wrapping her arm around you, and evoking her flames that enveloped you without leaving as much as a scrape on their war, but instead, leaving you feeling warm, and soft, like it was warm water travelling over you. Like a bath, and a shower, combined, which eased the pain. And brought comfort to your very soul.

Because it was certain that the evening would continue with food and drinks, delivered to your shared bedroom, where you’d lay, comfortably in her warm embrace. After all, she was a lion, and she did have a habit of loitering around, when she deemed it necessary to spare some energy for more fitting feats.

It was just that in this, taking care of her girlfriend, and paying around in bed, while taking a nap, was wrapped up in one.

[lex9923]

Tw// SA

This will be my one and only official statement on this situation, because frankly I’m done with all of this mental hopscotch happening.

I am a sexual assault victim. I was the same age as Caiti is now when it happened, and I was cornered with his hands down my pants touching my vagina and up my shirt touching my boobs, while I tried to get away and make it stop. I still to this day don’t know who my attacker was, but it will follow me for the rest of my life. It’s been five years since then, and my story has not changed once. Not ever. I hadn’t told people for a couple years cause I thought since I didn’t know who my attacker was, I wouldn’t be believed. As well as the fact that I came forward about a sexual harassment I faced at a job and was met with “well, boys will be boys”. Through it all, I am here, and I survived.

Watching the reaction to this situation from both of the main parties involved, those who weren’t there, those who were, and the fans had sent me spiraling. I’ve spent the past two weeks reliving that trauma from five years ago cause I thought I misinterpreted my assault as something else. I had not, and never have. It’s been incredibly invalidating watching the alleged “victim” change the story multiple times, make fake texts, omit important information, all while not even listening to the person she accused of a criminally offensive act.

Caiti is absolutely allowed to feel uncomfortable and regret what happened after the fact, but it is not, and will not ever be assault-unless George actually did touch her boobs, and then that will be a different discussion, but with her credibility disappearing, I’ll only believe it if he admits it himself. I’m trying to extend grace to her being young, sexually inexperienced, and caught up in online culture, but it’s hard the longer this gets dragged out. There are things you do when approaching a situation like this:

1. You absolutely need to provide evidence and proof of your claims. You can’t prove something that never happened, but you can prove something that did. It’s why it’s innocent until proven guilty. Expecting people to blindly believe you is delusional at worst and ignorant at best.

2. You must absolutely have your story 100% correct and factual to how you perceived what happened, before bringing forth any accusations. Using purposefully charged language and then changing the story to match the one you accused is not it. Nor is changing your story yet again when people are catching on to the inconsistencies.

3. Allow the accused person to defend themself. You can’t expect people to listen to all of your claims-most of them blindly doing so-and then get upset when people wait for both sides to say their piece, especially when you present no evidence at your initial statement. Again, you have to prove guilt. If you can’t prove it, the accused are allowed to defend themself.

4. You are in no way obligated to accept apologies, but acknowledging one was made-multiple times in fact- is the bare minimum. Trying to change your story one last time to make it seem even worse than what you both agreed upon, and then hiding behind “I’m not going to address this anymore” is manipulative at worst and cowardly at best.

I hope Caiti gets therapy, cause it’s clear she’s been severely affected by something, though I’m not sure she even knows what it is. I also hope she learns from this, and next time utilizes the “direct message” function every single app has. This could have been a dm, and the way it spiraled has been a shitshow and her intentions are coming off less and less pure the more this gets dragged out. I’m so sorry she was uncomfortable, and regretful, but until she shows any proof whatsoever of any assault happening, it will never be. I hope she heals, and I hope she gets better friends cause they have all failed her.

For George, I’m sorry this got blown so out of proportion and no one even privately talked to him about any uncomfortability being felt. I’m sorry his friends are performative. I’m hopeful that he was made aware of things he wasn’t before, and will do better next time. He is not irredeemable, and I believe growth is possible (the difference in his two responses proves as such). I hope this isn’t the last we see of him or his content, and I hope he can heal from this as well.

To my fellow SA survivors, I’m so incredibly sorry that our trauma has been thrown around like this. Our hurt and pain do not deserve to be mocked in this way, and I wish it would’ve never even happened. You’re stronger than what happened, regardless of how shitty this situation has been for us. And as a 24 year old, I like to consider myself a big sister of sorts, so I love all of you. We got through it then, we’ll do it again.

Speaking woman to woman, I’m sorry this has been so messed up. This will make it harder for us to come forward in the future and that is indescribably frustrating. However, that does not take away from the pain and hurt we went through, and I hope if you do have the strength to come forward, you are believed.

I’m done with this whole situation. It should not have come to this point, and if you stayed this far, I greatly appreciate you reading this. One last time. Caiti, I’m sorry you were so uncomfortable. Get therapy, better friends, and take a break from the internet. George, I hope you learn from this situation, and I’m sorry you were made out to be a criminally offensive person before giving your side or anyone ever speaking to you.

I hope you both heal.

I hope sexual assault victims having to relive trauma, and are affected by this continue to heal.

I love you all.

Lex

[fligniuz]

as usual, i'm not deep into the subject but i read little bit of all the things that came out and i’m confused. if the note's are PROBABLY his, then why head did plead not guilty in front of the judge?

(sorry for mistakes, english is not my first language)

so pleading not guilty and being innocent of a crime are technically different! i’m not sure how this works in other countries so i unfortunately can’t speak to that, but in america, pleading not guilty is simply a formal denial of the charges being brought against you, rather than a denial of your part in the crime itself. by pleading not guilty, a defendant typically isn’t professing their innocence; they are typically fighting their charges based on other grounds and, most importantly, they are putting the burden of proof on the prosecution. this means that the prosecution must prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant committed the crime in question—beyond a reasonable doubt is the standard used in all american courts to define at what point a defendant can legally be considered guilty.

basically, there is no verdict of “innocent” here in america—you’re either determined legally responsible for the charges you’re facing, or the prosecution is unable to meet the burden of proof and a jury votes not to convict you. that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re factually innocent of the crime you’ve been accused of, it just means that the prosecution could not make the case that the charges brought against you were reasonable. “not guilty” totally sounds like it should be a synonym for “innocent”, but when you get down to technicalities, they aren’t the same. i hope this helped you understand a little better!!

[bestworstcase]

Your thoughts about Salem possibly intentionally ascending to be what is essentially a Grimm Faunus makes me think:

I wonder if Salem chose to ascend to become a Grimm because she believed Grimm were endless beings that could endure her current nightmare better than anything else. Instead, the end result of that ascension was finding out that the Grimm weren't just eternal manifestations of evil like she and many others were led to believe by the God of Light, but rather independent living creatures with their own unique morality system who could live and die like anything else. I'd imagine such a revelation would only further sour her on the God of Light, because she'd basically realize that the Grimm were just another victim of the God of Light's existential crisis.

oh i don’t think she On Purpose set out to turn herself into a grimm. for one thing, the lost fable is an unreliable narrative in a really specific way: jinn answer’s ruby’s question exactly, this is information ozpin knows or believes to be true and actively chose to hide from the kids. none of it is new information to oz—so how does he know what salem did during the parts when he wasn’t there?

salem told him.

thus, any factual incorrectness during these parts of the story must be the result of either:

salem outright lying to him, or

ozma misinterpreting what she said, or

ozma making baseless assumptions to fill in the gaps of what was (given how long ago it all was and how long she was alone) quite likely an incoherent story.

now generally speaking i believe that salem hesitated for some time before telling him of her involvement in the rebellion but otherwise told ozma the truth, because the text supports this (she “blamed the end of the world on the gods,” rightly), because she has no reason to lie about what the gods did, and because the thematic narrative requires that the lost fable be a biased account of real events, not a complete fabrication.

anyway, the point is:

If the fountain of life granted her immortality, then surely, the pools of Grimm will finally take it away… She was wrong. This force of pure destruction could not destroy a being of infinite life, so it created a being of infinite life with a desire for pure destruction.

jinn ascribes a specific motivation to salem’s choice to drown herself in the pool of grimm, and states that salem’s reasoning proved to be wrong. this passage, like the rest of the lost fable, articulates what ozpin believes—but i think this is his misinterpretation of something salem told him when she recounted this part of her story.

she says, “the fountain gave me infinite life. i thought the pool of grimm would take it from me.” he hears, “i was trying to kill myself.”

but what i think she meant was, “i thought the death in the pool and the life in my soul would mix together. maybe it would kill me, i didn’t know or care, but isn’t that how the brothers made us? darkness brought you back to life, and he called that creation, and i wasn’t thinking clearly because i was going insane from isolation but i thought that maybe if i sacrificed myself i could bring everyone back.”

she says, “i didn’t expect to become this, but of course one can’t destroy creation, so it changed me.” and he hears “i was mistaken, and now i’m cursed.”

because the thing is, as i’ve noted before, if you take away from an infinite quantity, an infinite quantity remains – because ‘infinite’ does not mean incomprehensibly big number, it means numberless, countless, boundless. so was salem suicidal, or was she doing math?

what happens if you take some life from infinite life? where does what is taken go?

she returned to the place where, millions of years ago, she’d seen the fearsome god of destruction claim the powers of creation as his own after bringing a dead man back to life. and then she poured INFINITE LIFE into the dark well of that god’s power which still, she’d seen, continued to birth living creatures long after the gods had gone.

what was she trying to do?

just die?

…or claim the powers of her creators in order to bring the world back to life?

the results being her own transformation plus animal people is probably not what she expected to happen, exactly, but – certainly it is an improvement over her previous circumstances and so i doubt she had any complaints, until humans proliferated and began to persecute the faunus.

the question of whether salem, in the grimm pool, did or didn’t experience ascension in the literal sense – as in, meeting the blacksmith and being given the choice to “choose for yourself one who could leave your burdens behind, or choose one who’ll be enough to bear them” – is a secondary but also interesting question.

i’m inclined to think that she did, and that’s interesting, because if true that implies salem had the chance to escape her curse – shed her old identity, leave all her memories behind, and be reborn new – and actively chose not to take it. and that’s so compelling because – why? what inspired her to refuse? to keep going? think about everything salem’s said about hope, that even the smallest spark can ignite change, breathe fire into the hearts of the weary, that hope is mankind’s greatest strength; think about how that hits if—

—these are the same picture.

and then there’s ‘the shallow sea’:

“They didn’t do anything to us,” the people on the shore called. “The water hasn’t changed us. It has washed away the lies to reveal what we’ve always been, just under the surface. Our old forms were just a shallow disguise. This is who we are.” A few dozen more people on the boat were convinced. They dropped into the ocean, and though they transformed more slowly, by the time they stepped out of the water, they, too, had become their true selves and were welcomed onto the island.

like, think about what it says about salem for this to be how she sees herself, how she conceives of her transformation – that in becoming grimm she became more herself. true, we haven’t yet gotten hard confirmation that ‘the shallow sea’ is an allegorical account of salem’s metamorphosis, but the writing is on the wall. lol.

she’s the same person as before but she isn’t human, doesn’t feel human anymore, doesn’t want to be human. certainly there is a degree of trauma and isolation and dehumanization at work here, but at the heart of it – and this is why, i think, she chose to return as herself, if she found the blacksmith in the grimm pool – is this idea that her human-self was a ‘lie.’

the brothers made humans and made certain promises to humankind – light especially presented himself as a benevolent adjudicator who invited people to come before him, pray to him, worship him. they made salem. she believed in them. trusted them.

and in the end, they destroyed the whole world to spite her. the last thing either of them said to her was to blame her for the massacre they committed (light) and mock her for “still demanding things of [her] creators” (dark) – so why would she ever consider herself human again? why would she do them the courtesy of calling herself their creation?

cause here’s the thing – notionally, they made humankind to settle their differences. to make peace with each other. humans were the symbol and seal of the brothers’ harmonious coexistence, and salem proved the lie, and then she went ‘fuck you both’ and created herself: a person, a grimm, the living breathing combination of the waters of life and death, light and darkness, that the brothers refused to intermingle. she proved them wrong.

salem is not the one who sowed division between them.

they separated creation from destruction and enforced that dividing line with horrific violence. salem is the one who, left behind in the ruin of their world, brought the sundered halves of destruction-and-creation back together to create herself, and in doing so created a new world.

she isn’t the flawed human who disrupted the delicate balance and ruined the world forever. she’s not the divider. salem is the balance. the unity of opposites. the very embodiment of what mankind was meant for!

and they hated her for it! the god of light intends to wipe out remnant from existence to punish her because she saw through his lies about how the world was meant to be and revealed the truth he’s afraid of.

and yeah grasping that the grimm are not ontologically evil is a part of that (and i have no doubt also factors in her hatred of the huntsman academies because she knows humans and grimm can coexist with each other – evernight itself is proof of that.) but i think it’s less significant than the union she achieved, exposing the lie that creation and destruction are not one and the same.

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

while i agree the other anon wasn’t particularly eloquent, they are right. AFAB, in its original definition from intersex terminology, means assigned female at birth OFTEN INCORRECTLY due to ambiguous genitalia. this happens to males more often than females because most intersex genitalia fall inbetween full penis and full vulva, and many (not all) intersex males end up being born with genitalia that appear to skew towards the female end. this doesn’t correlate 1:1 with intersex females simply because an underdeveloped vulva still looks like a vulva. to answer your question, the ones who are AMAB are still overwhelmingly male. the doctors are not purposely scheming and declaring a male baby a female baby because they see a male and decide to shake things up: they see a female baby because of the ambiguous genitalia they see. it’s a mistake, not a conspiracy.

in the cases of Caster Semenya, and likely Imane Khelif, most intersex males in sports are essentially fully male but with internal gonads due to their condition, which makes their genitalia just appear as a vulva at birth. that’s why they’re raised as female. and it’s common knowledge that it’s easy to mistake the sex of prepubescent children outside of straight up looking at their genitalia because the sexual dimorphic traits that we can see from a distance don’t begin to really show until after puberty. this same thing happened to a swiss skiier in 1966, Erik(a) Schinegger, who accepted the reality of his male sex and even tried to return the medal he won to the woman he beat in the Womens Downhill Run Ski World Championship. Caster Semenya has fathered children and has every single sexually dimorphic trait as perisex men, the ONLY difference is that he was born with ambiguous genitalia that got labelled as female at birth.

i think you have your heart in the right place, but listening to what’s actually being argued in regards to Imane and intersex males (especially those with confirmed 5ar2d) is crucial. it’s very likely, if not guaranteed, he’s male and knows it. multiple boxing organizations have now come out to say he is. they cannot release private medical information (only Imane can, and he knows that if he’s asked to prove his sex and refute the claims it’ll show that he is in fact male) but they can say he did not pass a test that determines if XX chromosomes are present in the dna of the athletes, which by process of elimination means he does have XY.

i say all this in factual matter by the way. i have empathy for intersex males who grew up fully believing they are female until they underwent puberty, especially in Imane’s case where his home country is extremely misogynistic and anti-LGBT. however, it’s still completely unfair to the perisex female athletes who have to compete against males who are AWARE of their male sex, and are far more at risk of injury or death due to the nature of boxing. personally, i choose to put the safety of women over the hurt feelings of men who are just being told they can’t compete with women. no they didn’t ask to be born that way, but neither did perisex women.

the ioc is also complicit in muddying the waters of this situation too. they were the ones who let Laurel Hubbard compete, they are the ones who refuse to do sex testing to ensure fairness and instead go off of editable documents, and they are the ones insistent on making feminists look evil by intentionally conflating intersex men with intersex women. even women with pcos and hyperandrogenism do not have HALF the levels of natural testosterone as the LOWEST LIMIT of testosterone of males, including intersex males. the ioc allows intersex males to compete in the womens catsgory with higher levels of testosterone than women who are banned by DOPING WITH TESTOSTERONE. literally, trans men who take T are not allowed even if they still have lower testosterone than intersex males. this is why we’re frustrated with the ioc and with the situation with Imane.

I see. I'm not too proud to admit that I can be wrong. My honest answer to this whole situation is that I do not know enough about it. I did not know all of this. Thank you for sharing. I'm interested to know what others have to say in favor/opposition to this.

[anamericangirl]

I noticed something recently. Since yesterday, I've been pointing out on liberal posts that Kamala said "Trump wanted to abolish the supreme co-… The supreme co… The supreme… … Land… of our… … … constitutional… American land." and that I think she might be retarded. And people have been replying saying she didn't say that, or that I need to prove she said that, or asking me where she said that.

Same goes for Biden when I point out his golden quotes such as "I was the vice president for Barack America"

Libs always have no idea what I'm talking about. They always demand I prove they said those quotes. When I said Hillary wanted to build a wall long before Trump did, they say she never said that, and I show them the video and they don't wanna watch it.

What I'm getting at is

Liberals don't even watch the speeches of their own candidates. They don't watch them at all! These are incredibly commonly known quotes, these are easy to find videos, these are things they say unbelievably commonly in all of their speeches and libs are always dumbfounded when you bring them up.

THEY DON'T EVEN WATCH THEIR OWN RALLIES.

If I said that Kamala said "We need to build Strength through Joy" at the DNC, which is literally a Nazi thing (google "Strength through Joy"), which she DID SAY, and Oprah Winfrey ALSO SAID IT, the libs would reply "She never said that" as though they didn't even watch the DNC at all.

It's fucking wild

They are completely uninformed, they aren't listening to their own candidates, they're voting entirely out of hate or racially fueled shit like "I want to vote for a black woman" instead of actually watching their speeches.

I've watched every single Kamala, Biden, Trump, RFK Jr, Obama, Hillary, etc. speech for every election I've been old enough to vote for because it's extremely important to me as a human being to know who I'm VOTING FOR TO BE A REPRESENTATIVE OF MY VOICE AND A LEADER TO MY GODDAMN FUCKING COUNTRY EXCUSE ME GOD

And when I bring up quotes that liberal politicians say, liberals will always demand I'm lying and demand proof, and when I give them the proof they refuse to watch it!

I am 100% convinced liberals are just white-hating racists who want slavery to make a comeback which is why they're so strongly for letting illegals into our country and giving them the right to vote and mass amnesty because the democratic party fought tooth and nail to give slaves full voting power so they could get their slaves to vote for the left wing politicians who wanted to keep slavery going because they were filthy rich under slavery, but now that slavery's been abolished they're looking for any other way they can get colored folks to vote blue hence giving them $150,000 home loans in California. 100% convinced.

Get "I study history" on, liberals. Reminder that Kamala's literally a descendant of slave owners. Liberals regularly say shit like "All white people should be killed because they're descendants of slave owners" but despite factual evidence Kamala's a descendant of slave owners, they make an exception.

Sorry liberals. But you are horrible people, you're racist, you're intentionally uninformed, you don't put a single bit of effort into reading about US history or the history of the politicians you're voting for, and you're retarded.

Liberals are the definition of low information/no information voters. They get all their news from tiktok and think they’re informed enough to vote on who is the best person to lead the country.

They have no idea how much context and information they are missing.

And at this point I think it’s largely intentional with some people because otherwise they would have to confront the fact that these liberal politicians they are putting on pedestals as the saviors of America who will restore “democracy” (another term they don’t know the meaning of) are literally everything they claim to hate.

It says a lot about them when they can pull up Trump quotes from 10 or 15 years ago but they can’t tell you what Kamala said yesterday.

[argumate]

Many issues with your response:

1) the grooming gangs do, in fact, encompass the entire Pakistani community. Even the Pakis who didn’t individually rape were involved in the protection and coverup of those who did. There are no Pakistanis who were not involved, there are none who did not fully endorse it. You can prove me wrong simply by finding one Paki speaking out against it, but you can’t because it doesn’t exist. You’re probably going to say some retarded shit like “how is that different from collectively blaming White people for xyz racism” and the answer is that it’s different because the situation is different. When I say “the entire Pakistani community” that’s not some exaggeration or generalization, it is a factual statement of the status of ALL of them. 83% of those prosecuted for Group Localised Child Sexual Exploitation between 1997 and 2017 are Muslim. 84% are asian (in the UK sense) and 8% are black, only 7% are White. The UK as a whole is 82% White. These statistics are staggering, it goes beyond per capita. This community raped with the consent, knowledge, and endorsement of the UK government and police. It was officially endorsed.

2) in many ways, we do limit the amount of cars made. To be more specific, we strictly enforce what type of car is made. Cars as a whole may be built more, but specific types of cars are not. The amount of cars made without seatbelts or airbags was reduced down to zero, the amount of used cars on the road was greatly reduced by the Cash For Clunkers program (Obama did that by the way, so you should like it). The equivalent would be if we had unlimited mass migration but only of White people, with strict immigration restrictions against subhuman brown cockroach vermin like Pakis or Indians. Did you know cars also have immigration restrictions? If you buy a foreign car outside the country which doesn’t comply with United States EPA regulations, there is a 25 year ban before you can bring it into the country. If I went to Germany right now and bought e.g. a 2010 VW Beetle, I would not be allowed to bring it home to the United States. I would need to buy a 2010 VW Beetle specifically manufactured for US dealerships. The equivalent to that would be if Muslims were allowed in the west, but only if they were extremely orientalist White people who arrived at Biblical unitarianism and decided to convert of their own volition.

3) Rotherham is merely the case I first heard of, and it struck such a chord with me. It was a formative experience to learn of it. Rotherham is to me as the Japanese dislike spicy food lady is to you. I cannot forget Rotherham ever, so I constantly bring it up. But Rotherham is NOT the only one. It’s not one little anecdote. Rotherham, Rochdale, Oxford, Halifax, Aylesbury, Banbury, Bristol, Derby, Huddersfield, Manchester, Newcastle, Peterborough, Telford, West Yorkshire, all are places with the same story. Mass rape, same perpetrators, same victims, full knowledge of police and government, light sentencing if any for the perpetrators, punishment for natives who speak out, same exact fucking story. That’s just in one tiny little island country. This is what I mean when I say “the purpose is to spread Rotherhams across the globe.” At this stage it's pretty safe to say that brown pedophiles are some of the most effective footsoldiers of the new regime, and that child rape is actually a deliberate tool of social engineering.

4) Your human freedom point is nonsensical. To put it in a cutesy metaphor (and I know you love those): your rights to have your hand in a fist end where my rights to have a face begin. What human freedom was given to the girls in Rotherham? What human freedom was given to Natalie Shotter? Where was the human freedom in Rochdale, Oxford, Halifax, Aylesbury, Banbury, Bristol, Derby, Huddersfield, Manchester, Newcastle, Peterborough, Telford, or West Yorkshire? You’re in the USA. What human freedom was given to Laken Riley? What human freedom was given to Reagan Tokes? What human freedom was given to the Central Park five victims? What human freedom was given to Jennifer Ertman and Elizabeth Peña (she was Hispanic, you can at least mourn her)? Mercy to the guilty is cruelty to the innocent. You believe that the White victims of these crimes are non-human, or at least subhuman, because they are middle class and liberal and insufficiently radical, so their brutalization is “human freedom” while drinking from a separate water fountain is a violation of human dignity. What human freedom was given to those left behind in Rosedale? Do you even know what “Left Behind In Rosedale” means? How about “Race War In High School” or “White Girl Bleed A Lot?” I tell you about these things and you don’t listen. I listen to you, I respond to you, you don’t even know what I’m referring to right now.

5) As is typical in our discussions, I dutifully answer all the little hypotheticals and questions you throw my way while you weasel and dance around everything I ask you. Let me re-ask my questions. You can ignore every other point I raised and just answer this last part: Would you have supported any policies that would have prevented Rotherham before it happened? What policies? If you knew the future, would you support immigration restriction, or is mass widespread sexual abuse a fair price worth paying for unlimited immigration? If yes, why? If no, at what level of bad behavior does immigration restriction become acceptable?

I don't think the policies required to protect children from abuse relate to immigration, and those same policies would be needed in the absence of immigration.

(also enough with the collective responsibility stuff; there are heaps of things that I haven't publicly spoken out about -- only so many hours in a day -- but that hardly means I endorse them).