#so naturally someone else has to be making them

[ralabbit]

I hate when people say ai makes art more accessible. These people have never made art and they don't even know it. Ai didn't give them the ability to make art. It actually makes it less accessible by discouraging beginner artists from putting in the effort. I think there is a fear of making bad art now and the internet in general is very hostile to beginners. Like if you can't draw good, you will never be able to draw good and people online will hate you. So you need to use ai for "accessibility". Because it isn't "fair" that artists who have honed their craft for years and years are better than you. And it's apparently ableist to think otherwise (despite the fact that historically disabled people have always been making art) But if you genuinely are entirely unable to create art (which is incredibly unlikely, to be completely honest with you especially if you're able to type out pro ai messages). If you genuinely are incapable of making art (and I don't mean "good" art, because no one starts out good. This is not an inate ability that can be lacked. It is not a deficiency that a select few are born with) Then ai will not open the doors to your ability to create. Because you'll have no part in the creating. And if you genuinely have something that prevents you entirely from making art, then I truly feel for you. I do. Because you'll never ve able to make art. AI will never be able to give you the ability to make art. I know this sounds harsh.

Ai isn't a tool to make the art process easier, it is more like delegating the process to someone else. It's like if you hired an artist and comissioned them to draw something. And then, upon receiving the artwork, you called yourself an artist. It's illogical. It's delusional. It entirely goes against common sense. But at least in that situation, you are contributing financially. You aren't the artist, but in a way, you've played a role in the art, by enabling the artist to be able to support themselves while making the art. With AI, you've lost that too. You're less of an artist than someone who is purchasing a commission from an artist, not only are you not the artist, you're also actively hurting artists.

A five year old child scribbling on the wall is more of an artist than you. The smudged remnants of their creativity after their parents attempted and failed to fully clean it off; it's ugly, but it's more art than your generated images. And then, in a little over a decade, the child has grown up and is moving out to college, and it's awkward and sad in the final hours before getting in the car and then the mom sees the wall, still smudged after so many years, and she laughs, and she tells the child the story again. And the child rolls their eyes because they've heard it so many times, but secretly, they're happy to hear it. They can be a child for a little while longer.

Their little sister is in middle school. She's drawing something angry in her English notebook. She is more of an artist than you too. Her parents are fighting and she misses her brother. She doesn't care about school. She wears headphones in class and doesn't listen to the teachers. When they yell at her, she yells back. And then, one day, her English teacher notices her drawings. And she remembers how she felt as a little girl when her parents were fighting, before the divorce. How she felt all alone in the world. She tells the girl, "I'm here for you, okay?"

The older sibling is studying to be a doctor. It's stressful, and they're overwhelmed. They put on the playlist their younger sister made for them. It feels like home. It calms them down. The music is what gets them through med school. They become an anesthesiologist. Their sister's playlist plays in the operating room, calming down worried patients.

One day, the siblings' mom is home, recovering from a surgery of her own. She's disabled and spends long periods of time in bed, recovering. She knits sweaters, finding the repetitive nature of the task comforting. It's summer now, and the sweaters won't be used for a while. The younger sister's sweater from last winter sits on her bed in her art school dorm. It's her favorite colors. It emanates love. The older sibling has it hung in their closet. Seeing it, they remember to call their mom to check on her. To make sure she's getting enough fluids and not overexerting herself, the doctor in them showing as brightly as the patterns on the sweater.

When the dad gets sick, really really sick, the kind that you don't recover from, he moves back into the family house. The mom hands him a sweater and the daughter hands him a hand drawn card. The eldest child sees these thoughtful gifts decides to sing him a song on the spot. They're an awful singer. But everyone is smiling and soon they're all singing along. The wall is still smudged behind them.

Your image sits on the internet, empty and lifeless.

Unpopular opinion but if you don't enjoy the process you should find a different thing to do.

And I think this is true in general but now I'm talking about it in the context of AI.

If you don't enjoy making art and only care about the end piece and how it'll look and how much traction it"lol get online then making art is not something for you, find something you enjoy from start to finish.

Same goes for writing: if you do not enjoy writing and rewriting and then some more and instead want AI to write for you, being a writer is not something you should pursue.

Sure, not every part of creative process is going to be equally enjoyable but you should get satisfaction from solving the problems along the way and you should get a sense of accomplishment on your way of "making the piece yours" and you should have a sense of ownership once you are done.

None of these things will come from typing in a prompt into chatGPT. And I am sad to see so many people are missing on the opportunity to experience the joy of making something with their own hands and brains.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

MR. CHU!

❤︎‬ sol wonders if you're interested in him after you ask about his piercings ❤︎‬ solivan brugmansia x gn reader ‪ ❤︎‬ wc: 2k ❤︎‬ content warning(s): yandere ❤︎‬ solivan brugmansia is from the kid at the back being developed by fantasia-kitt

Like everybody else in the school, you never used to pay much attention to the quiet kid in your art class. It really wasn’t until recently, when you had no choice but to shyly ask him if he’d like to be your partner for a class project, that you finally acknowledged Solivan Brugmansia’s existence. 

You don’t think too much of him. Even now, as he tries his best to pose for you as naturally as he can, your mind is preoccupied with the far-more colorful personalities at Olympeius University while you absentmindedly sketch the details of his face. You wonder what Crowe might be up to right now, or if Jess has made any progress with her ginormous crush on Brittney… 

Your eyes flicker up to where Sol is, and you try to pay close attention to the bottom half of his face. He’s a physically attractive young man, but aesthetics aside, you’re more worried about drawing Sol well so you can wring a good grade out of your insatiable art professor. You squint your eyes a bit, leering at Sol’s lips to try to make out all the details. It’s no biggie in your mind, since you need someone to model for you and you’re simply trying to make your drawing as accurate to life as possible, but Sol?

Sol thinks he’s going to asphyxiate from how fast and hard his heart is pounding.

He can’t believe his luck. It took him all the self control in his body not to start panicking and freaking out when you had approached him and asked him to be your partner, and now he got the honor of hogging all of your attention while you used him as a model. Would it be foolish of him to hope that you like what you see? He knows his fashion sense and style isn’t for everyone and tends to make him a target more than an object of admiration, but… you’re different. You’re understanding and compassionate, and maybe you’d find something worth loving in him.

“Hold still… I’m almost done here…,” you mutter, sticking your tongue out just a little bit as you scribble furiously onto your sketchpad. Sol’s heart skips a beat, and while he can feel a rush of dizziness immediately hit his brain at your cute tongue peeking out from between your lips, he doesn’t want to disappoint you ever. 

After a few determined strokes, you nod at him. For the first time since class started, Sol finally lets himself relax. His tense muscles groan as he finally allows himself to shift positions into a more comfortable seated position, and he looks expectantly at you as if he wants to see your creation. You’re like a mind reader, and without him having to say anything, you gingerly hand him your sketchbook. 

“I’m not an artist like you are, but… I tried my best,” you shyly admit. Sol’s breath hitches audibly when you scoot your seat a bit closer to him to explain to him your handiwork, but you don’t seem to notice. “I- uh- don’t know if I did your piercings justice since you have a lot, but I gave them a shot.”

You could have spat on the paper and handed it to him, and Sol would still treasure and revere it as if it were a masterpiece deserving to be displayed in the finest of art museums. Of course, he would never hand it over to anybody and keep it only for his personal viewing, but in his perspective, everything your hands could create was nothing if not holy. 

“It’s beautiful. You should give yourself more credit. You’re not a bad artist at all.” He thinks he’s going to pass out after class from just how happy he is. A shudder creeps down his spine as he relishes the thought of your eyes all over his face and body, him being the only thing to take up the forefront of your mind. What he wouldn’t give to know what you thought of him as you sketched his face. Just knowing that you cared enough about him to draw him makes him feel as if he’s on top of the world, and he can feel a warm flush overtake his pale cheeks. “Don’t worry too much about my piercings. I know metal can be hard to draw.”

“Yeah, but… I just feel a little bad. They look so cool on you.” You flash him an innocent smile, completely unaware of the mental anguish you’re putting the poor lovestruck boy through. “I’ll keep practicing! That way I’ll be able to draw you perfectly by the end of this project.”

His piercings? Cool? Sol’s heart genuinely can’t take this barrage. What is it about you that has him acting this way? What is it about you that makes him want to drag you away from everybody else and keep you all to himself, to worship and to love? The others around you don’t know how to fully appreciate your generosity and light, how you’re kind to everyone, even misfits like him. He’s the only one who knows how to properly care and cherish you, and he can’t let anybody else steal that role away from him. He’s spent so many sleepless nights chasing after your warmth, eating away bit by bit at the safety of the boundaries you’ve put up. 

Nothing can keep you safe from him. 

You don’t know anything about how he feels though. You’re pure and oblivious to his mental turmoil, completely unaware of the sheer effect you have on him. You keep looking at him as if he was nothing more than an eccentric classmate rather than someone you were fated to, just without your knowledge. You peer closely at his face, before lifting a delicate finger to point at his lips.

“Say Sol…,” you ask him, clearly absentmindedly based on how casual your tone is, “How do you kiss if you have lip piercings?”

…

…

…

Why did you have to ask him something like that?

Sol thinks his brain might have ceased functioning the moment you threw him that question. Nothing—absolutely nothing—has been able to reach him as he plays that memory over and over again in his head. Even the jeers of the school bullies or Hyugo’s incessant chatter couldn’t yank him out of his lovestruck reverie. Sol was on cloud nine, replaying the melodic cadence of your voice over and over and over again within his memories. He could never get sick of you or your many details. Every little bit of information he could glean from you was so precious that he could spend the rest of his life in sheer ecstasy at how perfect you were. 

Hyugo was used to it at this point and knew not to question it. But whenever Sol entered into these almost drunken stupors, it was hard for Hyugo to not worry about him a bit. Sol’s cheeks are dyed a ridiculous shade of bright red, and his hands tremble uncontrollably as he fidgets with his fingers. There’s a lopsided grin on his face, and if Hyugo really pays attention, he can make out a lovesick sigh escape the eccentric young man every now and then.

Sol just wishes he could actually peer into your mind and figure out what you thought of him! What made you ask him such a risque question? Were you interested in him? You had to be somewhat, if you initiated the partnership with him and even called his style cool… Nobody else talked about him that way. Nobody else, save for you, found him interesting. What if you had a crush on him too? Was that why you asked him about kissing? Was this your way of encouraging him to amp up his advances?

It meant that you had to be thinking about his lips. About kissing him specifically. Sol could feel his heart rate pick up dangerously again as he imagines your sweet face approaching his, closing the impossible distance between the two of you bit by bit. How many years, grueling moments, had he waited for this to take place? Maybe you’d be shy and only leave him with a quick peck to his mouth. Or maybe you’d be more gutsy and press your lips fully onto his, making out with him in a way that leaves both of you breathless and gasping for air. His heart squeezes almost painfully inside of his chest at the thought of you being so close, doing something so mundane yet so intimate, showing him a kind of romantic affection that nobody else could share with you…

He wants so badly to be the only one in your eyes. Each minute of class with you feels like torture. He wants nothing more than to close that gap. It doesn’t have to be anything big: placing his big hand on top of yours, poking your nose whenever you get distracted, all the small things that come so easily for normal couples. Kissing would just be the first step. What else could come after? There was a whole myriad of things he could dream of. He’d escort you dutifully to every single one of your classes so that everybody in this school would know that you were his. 

You’d spend more and more time together, and surely, one day you’d invite him over to your apartment that he’s secretly grown so familiar with… Just thinking about it makes his skin bristle with excitement. If everything went as planned, as easily as his daydreams made it look, then he could finally have you in the way that he wanted most.

You had to reciprocate somewhat. You just had to be interested in him as much as he was interested in you. That was what that quick question meant to him, your words construed and twisted beyond belief inside of his delusional thoughts. 

Hyugo puffs one of his cheeks out and peers at his daydreaming friend with a bit of concern. “Are you gonna eat your lunch, Sunny?”

Sol doesn’t respond at all. Hyugo sighs and shakes his head before tapping the side of Sol’s arm. 

“I asked you a question!” The shorter man points at the untouched food in Sol’s lap. Sol bristles to life, the hearts in his eyes melting away as they refocus and Hyugo enters his field of vision again. Hyugo points once again at the abandoned food and raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

Sol deadpans. If Hyugo’s presence wasn’t so convenient, he would have sent Hyugo flying to his death from the rooftop for interrupting his precious time with daydream-you. He lets Hyugo take the food before letting his mind wander again, wind blowing through his air as he wonders what you might be up to right now. Were you thinking of him too? Would you be thinking of him even when he’s not within your immediate vicinity.

He wants to see you so badly right now. He wishes he was in class again, for the first time in his life, so that he could have you right next to him and monopolize your time as he pleases. But Sol knows he has to be patient. One wrong step would have his great expectations come toppling down, and he would rather die than live in a world where he can’t have you anymore.

So he makes up his mind there and then. There was no room for hesitation. You had finally noticed him after all of his time lurking in the shadows, and these passive moments weren’t enough to satisate the brutal appetite you had awoken inside of him. He needs more. He needs more of your time. He needs more of your love. 

If you were so curious about him and his piercings, so curious about the way he kissed, then he’d make the answer as simple as it could get.

He’ll kiss you tomorrow and show you just how he does it.

x

[bluemantics]

When he looks in the mirror, sometimes Keith searches for Shiro. He tilts his head, eyes tracing his nose, his hair, wondering if blinking hard enough will change things. It never does. 

Keith knows it’s stupid— Shiro isn’t actually his brother. It’s just difficult for him to watch that empty seat in the dining room, hard for him to hear the deafening gaps in conversation Shiro would fill. 

So he looks, and he tries. When Allura approaches him to strategize, his mind races to Shiro’s normal responses. If Pidge seems to work harder than normal, he lectures her, ignoring her muttered “isn’t that rich, from you.” Hunk cooks and Keith remarks on how delicious it tastes, thanks him for feeding the team. All of this leads to stares. 

Nothing is seamless anymore, not even waking up. He has to walk by Shiro’s room every day. One time, he stepped foot inside, and left immediately after. Shiro’s walls closed in and suffocated him, pressured him. It still feels wrong to be occupying any space where his echoes ring out. 

Black is no different. She reminds him that she knows, she knows he is not Shiro, tries to comfort him with soothing pulses. Yet all he can see when he looks through her eyes is someone who is smaller, angrier, and vulnerable. He can’t get comfortable in his seat. Keith never envisioned himself at the helm of anything, much less the team designed to save the whole universe. When he’s alone, and thinks of it too much, a gap between his ribs aches. 

This team might be destined to save the universe, but Keith Kogane was never destined to lead it. 

The worst times are when he forgets. He lets himself feel eased, laughs with the team like it’s natural, issues orders without deliberation or second guessing. In those instances, guilt weighs on him like a thundercloud. How could he have felt so familiar in someone else’s role? Keith quickly retreats, reminds himself of his place. Not the helm; he’s the stand-in. 

All this self-loathing would be so much easier if it weren’t for Lance, badgering him constantly. Day in and day out, his new “right hand” constantly pushes him. 

“Join us for dinner or I won’t participate in tomorrow’s training exercises.”

“Team movie night! Your turn to choose.”

“Are you sure that’s the right plan? I’ve been thinking—“

It’s fucking annoying when he’s thinking, but it’s all Lance seems to do. He offers up opinions constantly without being asked, shows up to meetings between Keith and Allura, knocks on his door after difficult missions. Keith can’t remember doing any of this when he was supposedly Shiro’s right hand. 

“Why are you always on my tail, Lance?��� Keith demands after a particular comment. 

“Because you need it.”

Lance has a new confidence when he speaks, a bravado that doesn’t need flowery words. His voice is sure. 

Keith knows he’s right. Part of him secretly relishes Lance’s feedback, uses his presence as a crutch. Another part of him is ashamed to rely on anyone at all. Shiro stood tall as a lone watchdog over them and barely needed help from anyone, much less the mess that was Keith. It makes him doubt his older brother’s judgement in choosing him for Black. 

He’s exhausted from questioning himself, his brother, his teammates. At night, he tosses and turns, and every time he tries to train, Lance stops him—or worse—joins him. Keith has a looser grip on his sword and his words at night. Control slipping, he worries he will say the wrong thing as Lance takes him down with newfound skill that only time and practice bring. 

“Since when did you get good at this?” Keith heaves from the ground, chest rising and falling quickly. Lance stands over him, smiling widely with pride. 

“Since you needed a new sparring partner.”

Keith notices Lance doing this a lot lately, anticipating everyone’s needs. Suddenly, Lance wraps Pidge in blankets, tells Hunk not to worry about a broken gadget, and comforts the Alteans by listening to their stories. 

With a pang, Keith realizes something: Lance is a better leader. The whole team probably knows it by now. Effortlessly, Lance fills new shoes without so much as a complaint, while Keith flounders trying to shove his square-shaped self into a circular opening. 

When Shiro comes back, Keith doesn’t even register the differences between This Shiro and His Shiro. He grew up with nothing, so he isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Instead, he did what he’d been itching to do since he first stepped in Black. 

Keith ran away.

When he’s alone in his quarters at the Blade, he looks in mirrors. He searches for traces of Lance and sees none. Hands cold and stiff, he covers the looking glass with a sheet, unwilling to stare back at an unworthy face.

[matchatarot]

Hi bunny! Tonight’s a new moon in pisces! As a pisces moon born under a new moon, I feel so cozy in this energy. It’s time to align with your soul and tap into your inner muse! What blessings are unfolding for you during this new cycle? To pick a pile don’t overthink it and chose the one that draws you in the most while thinking about the reading’s intent. Love, Matcha ♡

Pile 1 ₊˚.༄

In this next moon phase you’ll settle in your persona and be more confident in your social standing. You’re connected to your soul and your higher self. You are understanding your uniqueness and wearing it with pride. You’ve been doing shadow work and are learning about yourself, which is making you more and more self-assured. Your path to success is becoming clearer and you know what decisions you need to make to advance in your pursuits. Your third eye chakra is opening. You have hope and you trust in the universe. You know that the universe works in unexpected ways and that you need to remain open for the blessings to flow in. You’re getting to know your unconscious mind and are learning how to manifest to access your desired reality. You are developing more self-assurance. You are choosing to look within instead of looking at other’s blessings. You are celebrating your new found consciousness. You might also go out and have fun with your friends, there might be a birthday or achievement celebration. Your relationships are healing, someone wants to say sorry or reconcile with you. If you’re the one that needs to make amends, people will be understanding and forgiving. Your romantic relationship will deepen or attain an higher commitment level. The good deeds you have done will be rewarded and your peers want to thank you for your great insights.

roses, sunstone, 222, 333, 6, 963hz

Pile 2 ୭̥° ✧

Life’s been testing you. But no matter the hardships of your 3d reality, you are coming back to yourself and taking time for healing. You’re understanding that setbacks and rejections are a natural part of life and don’t define you. You’ll prioritize your intuition when making decisions. You’ll understand that your manifestations can come in different forms and are remaining open to them. However, you are no longer accepting behaviours from yourself or others that don’t align with your higher path. You’re taking time to dive deep into your interests, you’d rather spend meaningful time with yourself than meaningless time with others. You’re learning how to gatekeep your life to protect yourself from the evil eye or monitoring spirits. You are finally stepping in your divine feminine & masculine, allowing yourself to receives the universe’s blessings while still taking meaningful action to attain your goals. You’re liberating yourself from past wounds. Your sacral chakra is healing and you are allowing yourself to be happy. Your self-care and meditations will be extremely fruitful during this moon phase. People see you has being attractive and warm. They feel at home in your presence and may want to give you gifts!

333, 22, 88, 417hz, sunsets, mars, yoga, jasper

Pile 3 ‧₊˚ ♡

You’re locking in bunny! The path you need to take to attain your desired reality seems clearer than ever. You have identified your goals and are now ready to adapt your life’s decisions to fit this new path. You are understanding that hardships may come your way but are trusting yourself to overcome them when time dictates. You’re taking time to meditate or to spend time in silence. This new habit is healing, you are becoming more present and thankful. You are tuning yourself to your life’s purpose and refuse to separate yourself from it. No matter how the day turns out, you are finding ways to make it productive and meaningful. Your crown chakra is open and balanced. You are open to all types of blessings. Your manifestations are flowing in so fast! You’ll get closer to your crush or anyone else you’re trying to manifest. You might meet a new romantic interest or attain deeper commitment in your relationship. Your ex-friends or ex-romantic interests might try to comeback. Your psychic gifts are strengthening, you feel in touch with your soul and the divine in general. Your energy will feel lighter, you seem ethereal and peaceful.

b2b by charli xcx, palo santo, marijuana, silver 222, 11

decks used for this reading: l’oracle du chemin spirituel by Valérie Defour & Valérie Saussez, art oracles by Katya Tylehich, ors et ombres by Stéphanie Lafranque, fairy tarot cards by Radleigh Valentine

[spiraling-stardust]

I have a habit of imagining ways that act 5 could have gone differently, and in doing that I ended up coming up with this AU. Basically, Siffrin is a ghost, and he and Mal du Pays are following the party and occasionally helping them out from behind the scenes as they deal with the aftermath.

During the fight against Mal du Pays in act 5, the rest of the party doesn’t make it in time, and Siffrin gives up on his wish and kind of just. Dies. For real this time. Mal du Pays takes form, and then it finishes off the King itself and runs off right before the party arrives to see what’s left. It ends up encountering Siffrin who is now a ghost, and starts following them around, so I guess they’ll be watching the rest of the party together now.

Mal du Pays is… More tame in this AU? Still a little shit, but not as much now that it actually took form. It’ll say some stuff that Siffrin would definitely not take well, but it’s not necessarily being intentionally malicious, it’s just in its nature as a Sadness. Like how a cat doesn’t shred furniture to be mean, it’s just a cat. Still sucks though. Since “homesickness” is the feeling at its core, it often becomes fixated on anything potentially related to “home”, and since family was also like “home” to Siffrin but still felt impossible to keep, this resulted in Mal’s interest in the rest of the party and its unwillingness to attack them and only them… and also its clinginess. The damned thing will not go away.

Siffrin is still very much coming down from the act 5 shitstorm at the start. They didn’t learn to talk about their problems, and they’re still under the impression that their family hates them. And on top of that, he’s actually genuinely dead now! He can see through himself, he always seems to glow a little, and he has to concentrate just to pick something up. Eventually some of these problems will improve, either through practice or by observing his family, but it’s definitely a lot to recover from and adjust to… And it’ll take awhile since he’s also gotta keep the Sadness he created from attacking strangers and deal with the stuff it pulls on him.

The rest of the party is still dealing with the aftermath, and have no clue they’re being watched (yet). Loop sort of joins the group in Siffrin’s place, and there’s a lot of 2hats-related issues from that (the whole situation is complicated, they didn’t even want to be there but stardust had to go and die and… oh. Maybe they still have a place among them as someone else? Cue the spiral of internal conflict). Lots of pain and suffering to go around, but I promise it’s not all just misery!! There’s some shenanigans, comfort, and even some fluff mixed in there! I swear! In fact there’s a pretty good amount of shenanigans. An actor joins the stage crew… Chaos may ensue hehehe

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Can I request Matt and Frank with a neurodivergent reader who rocks to self-soothe when they’re overstimulated/anxious

Hello darling! Absolutely you can. I’m sorry it took me so long to respond, it’s been a WEEK. Wayyyy too many thoughts below the cut.

Let me just say, I think both Matt and Frank would be fantastic partners to someone who is neurodivergent. They both understand the constant frustration and sense of injustice and all that.

Matt

It would take a few weeks for Matt to even realize what you were doing, I think. He can hear the movement, but it wouldn’t really seem off to him, given how much time he spends with Foggy–who never STOPS moving.

Because he doesn’t have much experience with people who are neurotypical and not stressed beyond belief, he’s sort of used to people fidgeting and doing what they can to calm themselves.

I don’t think he would bring it up without someone else prompting. Maybe Foggy or Karen says something offhandedly, catching you by surprise. You hadn’t even noticed you were doing it at the time, swaying your weight to your heels and back to the balls of your feet, your body rocking with the movement.

“Don’t worry, sport! We’re coming.” Foggy laughed, shoving his arms into the sleeves of his coat as the four of you prepared to grab lunch.

You froze, suddenly regaining your self-awareness and immediately choking on a wave of embarrassment.

“Ready to go?” Matt’s voice startled you out of your stupor, making you jump

“Uh yes. Sorry.” The apology was instinctive, habitual. A symptom of perpetually feeling like your innocuous stims were troublesome for others.

“Why are you sorry?” Head tilting in the signature way it always did when he was concerned, Matt’s hand came to rest on your arm as he scanned you for evidence of harm.

“Nothing. We should catch up.” You murmured, hurrying out of Matt’s office to follow his business partners out of the building.

He’d let you deflect, but he’d set the thought in a special corner of his mind, privately vowing to bring it up at a later time.

After Foggy and Karen had escaped the pile of paperwork in the conference room, hesitantly allowing you and Matt to sort through it without them, he’d leap on the opportunity.

“Out with it,” The command is tender but stern, very classic Matt.

“Out with what?” Playing dumb worked sometimes, easier than an outright lie in front of a breathing polygraph machine.

“You’ve been biting your tongue since before lunch.” Apparently your go-to strategy wasn’t going to work this time. “What happened? Did I say something?”

The fear simmering below his concern caught your attention immediately. You had to answer now. “No nothing like that, Matty. I just..got in my head.”

“About what?” His wandering gaze is so earnest, you cave immediately. You tell him everything. The way you always felt different from those around you. The confusion and constant frustration when you inevitably misunderstood people. The pile of issues you had with various sounds and textures. The need to rock back and forth in place when you were nervous or overwhelmed, and the shame that forced you to stop when someone laughed or criticized you.

As always, Matt listens. Asks a question here or there, to help himself understand, but he seems to get it. There’s no judgement in his eyes, only total acceptance and a blaze of protective fury.

Once he knows about the stim, he would fiercely defend you in public. Scold people for staring and encourage you to do whatever you needed to do to feel comfortable.

Frank on the other hand would notice it VERY quickly.

This man is capital O Observant so he spots the rocking before you’re even together.

He has weird fidgety things he does too so he’s not judging whatsoever. He’s not interested in dissecting the root cause if it’s not hurting you or anyone else. So he jots it down in his mental notes about you and moves on past.

I think he’d also pick up on the soothing nature of it, notice that you seem calmer when you allow yourself to stim. So when he catches you in a bad mood or in a stressful moment, he’d pull you flush against his chest, one hand cradling your back while the other cups your head, and he’d rock the two of you together. (If you need to rock alone, he’d absolutely let you. But this personally would be nice for me so I’m including it lol)

If anyone ever commented on it, they’d find themselves on the other side of a MURDEROUS stare, urging them to quickly apologize and move on with their day

[snowflakeanimelover]

Title: Change For The Better

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Relationship: Daryl Dixon x OC

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, child abuse, young Daryl and Merle, Flashbacks, loneliness, Katelyn’s kind of a creep, Daryl is a jerk

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Summary: The apocalypse was like a nightmare come true. No one had expected it to really come into reality, until the day the dead started walking around, feasting on human flesh. It was a sight no one could forget. And, frankly, it doesn’t seem to end.

It’s been two years since the virus took over the world, taking about half of the world's population along with it. Katelyn Davidson has been on her own practically the whole time. Due to past experiences, she is unable to bring herself into being in a survival group once more. However, that all seems to change when she runs into her childhood friend, Daryl Dixon.

Past trauma, memories, and conflict comes back to the surface between the two friends. Despite the world changing for the worse, maybe Katelyn and Daryl can change for the better.

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Note: so….i have never dealt with or met someone who has experienced abuse. I apologize if there is anything wrong related to that. No, there will not be any explicit abuse scenes…well, from her childhood anyway. Typical TWD violence will be in the story. I’m kind of just going off of things I’ve learned from movies, and might be looking things up here and there.

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Master list | …

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Chapter 1

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Katelyn stepped into the forest, the familiar crunch of leaves underfoot bringing her a sense of calm. At just ten years old, she often sought refuge among the tall trees, escaping the chaos at home. With each stride, the world's weight faded away, and the forest welcomed her like an old friend. She had wandered these trails before—sometimes as a retreat, to dream—and today, she was eager to discover the hidden wonders just beyond the next bend. This was her secret world, and adventure awaited her.

The nature around her was loud. The branches snapping under her feet, leaves crunching into pieces from her weight, birds chirping in the trees, and the branches groaning above her as the wind makes them dance. This was her peace. The home she had always wanted.

Katelyn always kept herself busy in the forest near her home. She was always by herself, making up games she could play, and running around the trees to entertain herself. It was calm and peaceful, and there was nothing to bother her.

As many times as she has been out here, she has never seen anyone else. Maybe a few animals here and there, such as squirrels or rabbits. Seeing the creatures was joyful for her. She enjoyed chasing them around, seeing if she could pet it or at least get a better look at it.

Today was a lucky day for her, she believes. While she hopped over logs with a big grin, her expression brightens when she catches sight of a white rabbit a few feet away from her. A breathy giggle leaves her lips as she hops down from the log she was standing on, trying to be as quiet as she could while approaching the small creature.

However, the rabbit perks up, noticing her coming close. In a panicked reaction, it quickly runs off, finding shelter to hide. Katelyn doesn’t let this get past her, though, and she chases right after it.

The trees are winding as she runs through them, jumping over roots and logs to not trip and avoiding branches that hang low. She hadn’t run far from the spot she noticed the rabbit. The creature was quick, but she managed to keep her eye on it, following it through the quiet forest.

As soon as she ducks a branch to follow it further, she suddenly stops. Her happy grin falls at the sight before her, a tall boy standing there. He had wild brown hair that stuck up in all sorts of directions, with cautious blue eyes staring back at her. Katelyn shifts from one foot to the other, completely forgetting about the white rabbit that most likely got away, and begins to fidget with her hands. She has never met this boy before. He’s a little taller than her, maybe a little older. His clothes consist of a brown and black flannel, unbuttoned to show a stained dark grey shirt underneath. His jeans were loose, dirty and unkempt.

She didn’t know what to do. She doesn’t talk to people much, especially ones around her age. At school, she often keeps to herself, and her classmates like to keep their distance with her. “….Hi…” she finally murmurs, trying to gather as much courage as she could to speak to the boy.

The boy, however, looks rather annoyed by her presence. She hadn’t noticed before, but he had a couple sticks and a bundle of wire in his hands. “Who the hell are you?” He grumbles, his glare full of curiosity and caution.

Katelyn instinctively blinks at the curse word, remembering how often her parents use them around her in a fit of rage. She didn’t visibly flinch, but it certainly made her uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, hanging her head. Is he mad at her? Did she do anything to make him feel that way?

A scoff leaves his lips as he takes a step back, half turning away to leave. “Go home. Ain’t nothin’ ‘round here for yah.”

She doesn’t say anything as she looks up, watching him walk away, deeper into the forest. His shabby shoes shuffled through the dead leaves, causing small sticks to snap under his weight in his path.

The one thing Katelyn knew, at this very moment, is that she didn’t want to go home. Not now, anyway. She still had time before her parents would even notice she’s gone. So, she takes it upon herself to follow the boy. She kept her distance, but she was too curious not to keep him in her sights. Why was he there, in the forest? Did he live nearby? She has never seen him in this area before, nor anyone, for that matter. What was he up to?

Katelyn seemed to have gotten away with following him for a little bit longer. He never looked back to see if she was there, assuming he doesn’t even know she’s following. Soon enough, the boy stops walking, putting one knee on the ground as he looks around the area. She watches as he grabs a sapling tree near him. He begins to pull on the tree, making it bend down to where he can tie some of the wire at the end.

She was perplexed by what he was doing. She has never seen anything like it, quite curious to what he was making. When he stands back up, some sort of contraption is made. The tree is bent downwards against its will, held in that place by a wire that was attached to two carved sticks in the ground. The wire soon ends in a large loop, resting on the ground.

Katelyn doesn’t notice he has a knife until he stuffs it in his back pocket. A pocket knife, Katelyn could guess. Just as she’s ready to follow him some more, The boy turns around, his eyes meeting hers. This time, his expression holds more irritation than annoyance. “What the hell are yah doin’, huh? I said go home!” He snaps, flicking his wrist at her to point somewhere behind her, a gesture for her to leave. “Quit followin’ me ‘round…” he then murmurs under his breath, turning back around to leave.

Before he can leave, though, they hear a set of heavy footsteps coming their way. “Alright, little brother,” a raspy voice with a heavy southern accent grabs their attention. Katelyn could see a figure approaching, a taller man in about the same kind of clothing as the boy. He’s skinny and looks to be in his late teens. “Got some snares up an’ runnin’?” He asks, stopping his tracks once he’s by the boy.

The boy doesn’t respond, simply looking up at his older brother, as if that was enough to get him to notice the girl following him. His brother doesn’t seem to notice. He looks around, seeing the snare that was set up, but his eyes soon move up to the small figure behind it. *A girl*.

“Now would you look at that,” he grins, looking down at his little brother as he pats him on the shoulder. “Found yerself a little girlfriend, huh?” He snickers.

The boy visibly grimaces at that, and shakes his head. “Shut up, Merle! Ran into her earlier, an’ she’s been followin’ me ‘round since.” He practically scowls at her when he looks her way.

“Ah, don’ get yer panties in a twist,” Merle chuckles, stepping around his brother to approach the girl. “You lost there, girl?”

Katelyn cautiously steps back as he approaches, a memory of her father stepping up to her like that, angry, flashes in her mind.

“Now, now,” Merle starts, noticing her rising fear. He slows his steps, eventually kneeling down to her height about two feet away. “I ain’t gonna hurt yah.” He sits there for a moment, seeing as she hasn’t run off yet. “You from ‘round here?”

Her green orbs study him, taking a moment to answer his question. She soon nods, a little too shy to speak.

Merle nods, satisfied that she answered. “Why don’t you run on home now, huh?” A friendly grin quirks up. “An’ keep what yah saw to yerself.”

She fidgets, her fingers playing with the end of her shirt. Once again, she nods, keeping his words to heart as she turns and runs off to where she came.

“She’s gonna tell someone,” Daryl says once the girl was out of their sight, giving his older brother a worried look.

Merle huffs as he pushes himself off of the ground, turning back to the boy. “She ain’t gonna tell no one,” he reassures, patting Daryl’s back a little more roughly then he intended as he walks by. “Now come on. Got a couple more snares to put up.”

The fact of meeting a new person was intriguing to Katelyn. Maybe it’s because she’s always alone, but either way, she couldn’t help but to follow the two males she met in the forest. The day after she met them, she had returned to the cover of trees to see if they were there. She ran all over, seeing if she could see anything that wasn’t just foliage and animals. When she did run into the younger boy again, this time, she was more cautious. She stayed a distance away, simply following him around as he undid all of the snares he and his brother put up.

Katelyn told herself that following him was just wrong. It didn’t look right, and it might even make them suspicious of her. However, she couldn’t bring herself to greet the boy or speak up. She was….scared. She has always had trouble making friends.

Her constant following went on for a few weeks. She would run to the same forest whenever she could to look for them, see what they were up to. And everyday, she always wondered if she’ll get to finally speak up to them.

However…she never could. Katelyn always got too scared, too nervous to make the move to make a friend. Over the few weeks, she had heard the brothers talk. She had always wondered why the older one told her to keep quiet about what they were doing, or that they were there. It’s because they don’t live in this area, and were illegally hunting on private property. The good thing to do was to go tell her parents, but….she knew her parents wouldn’t believe a word she says. Despite that, she was intrigued by them, and didn’t want them to go.

The sun beating down on the forest gave the dense forest life. Katelyn found the sun shining through the trees to be a beautiful sight. She’d often sit on a log, hold her rabbit stuffed animal, and watch the forest before her. She’d watch it move, come to life. The wind makes the trees and grass dance and the animals pass by on their journey of survival.

Today, however, Katelyn wasn’t admiring nature. Instead, she was following the younger brother from a distance, as usual. Everytime she came out here, she’d tell herself she’d finally go up to him, which she found out his name is Daryl, And talk to him. She wanted to be friends. She wanted to learn what he’s doing.

When Katelyn started following Daryl around the forest, she noticed he was alone again. His older brother was probably off doing his own routine or something. As she followed him, she noticed he’s a pretty quiet kid. He hardly ever spoke, unless spoken to. Although, so,times, he’d speak out about his opinions to his brother when needed.

Before Katelyn could continue to scold herself for not making a move, Daryl suddenly runs off. His steps were hurried, and she practically jumped at his quick action. Why did he run? Did he see something scary? Did something spook him? The action must have been contagious, as Katelyn finds herself chasing right after him. She didn’t want to lose sight of him, scared that if there was something chasing them, she’d have him there to protect her…right?

Just as she rounds a tree, where she last saw Daryl disappear behind, her path is abruptly stopped. Katelyn hadn’t processed the impact her body received from whatever she ran into, and she yelps in pain when she falls back onto the dirty ground.

Katelyn lets out gasps of hair from her overworked lungs, craning her head back to see what she ran into. To her surprise, it was the boy she has been following for the past few weeks.

Oh no, he saw her! What kind of excuse could she make?

She doesn’t get a chance to speak, though, when she notices Daryl’s harsh snarl. “I told yah to stop followin’ me!” He yells at her, teeth bared and shoulders stiff. “Yer such a creep! You don’t think I didn’t notice?”

Katelyn’s breaths instinctively quicken, watching as he steps closer, his hand moving around as he points at her angrily. She could feel her cheeks burn in embarrassment, and her eyes beginning to burn as tears unwillingly swell up.

“Yah got nothin’ better to do? Go to yer parents! Play with them, huh? You got friends, don’tcha?” He continues, each word being spat out with such irritation and force, she could feel the spit sprinkle on her skin. “Quit botherin’ me! It ain’t any of yer business what we do here—“ Daryl’s rant comes to a stop before he could finish, suddenly noticing what the girl before her was doing. He hadn’t noticed as he was trying to scare her off, but now, he does. Her body shook, trembled, as she had her knees up to her chest and her arms covering her head.

“P-Please don’t hurt me,” she hiccups, sobbing in fear.

Daryl didn’t have to ask why the hell she was so freaked out. He knows this. He knows, just by looking at her, what this meant.

She’s been abused.

He now realizes that his harsh words and threatening movements must have been a trigger to her trauma, and she freaked out, thinking he’ll hurt her. That thought alone makes his hands clench into tight fists, feeling his nails dig into his skin.

Daryl knows exactly what she’s been through. And although he won’t say it out loud, seeing her so scared of him makes him feel…guilty. “I’m not…” He starts awkwardly, now more calm. He reminds himself to take a step back, give her space. “I’m not gonna hurt you…” he mutters. He had no idea how to comfort someone like her, how to comfort anyone in general.

When she doesn’t respond, still too in her head as she cries into her knees, Daryl huffs. He wasn’t any good at this. He knows his brother isn’t either. Daryl eventually lets out a sigh, hesitating before he moves. He cautiously steps up to her, slowly lowering himself to sit beside her. He wasn’t touching her, but he figured that sitting there, beside her, would be enough to show he wasn’t a threat.

He wasn’t sure how long it took, but her cries had slowly quietened into soft sniffles. She slowly lifts up her head, her eyes puffy and red, nose runny. Daryl quickly looks away, not wanting her to catch him staring.

“You’re…not going to hurt me…?” She finally speaks, her words soft and fragile.

Daryl furrows his brows, a bit offended she’d think he would. “Nah,” he shakes his head, looking down at the ground he's sitting on. “‘Course not.”

The silence between them is stifling, almost suffocating. He hates awkward situations. The only person he’s actually comfortable with is his brother. He has no other friends. “I didn’t mean to scare yah…” Daryl says. He wasn’t necessarily apologizing, but it was good enough.

Katelyn sniffles loudly, rubbing her nose before she speaks. “I’m sorry…”

“For what?”

“For…um…” she hides her face in her arms that rested on her knees, too embarrassed to look at him. “For following you…?”

He snorts, the corner of his lips quirking up into a tiny smile of amusement. “Yeah? Why were yah doin’ it anyway?”

“I just…I was curious…”

“Curious about what?” He was starting to get a little irritated. The girl was slow, quiet, and beat around the bush.

“I don’t know,” she replies instantly in defense. “I’ve never had friends, okay? I…I wanted to ask if we could be friends…”

That was enough to make him officially look at her, giving her a raised brow in question. Be friends? Why in the world would she want to be friends with him? He’s anything but a normal kid, to say the least. Obviously she’s a little younger than him, but still…he doesn’t get it. What does she see in him?

“Friends?” He echoes incredulously. “We’re strangers. Yah know nothin’ ’bout me.” The only response she gives him is a simple shrug of her shoulders, shutting down on him. He stares at her for a moment, studying her now stoic expression.

Although the thought of being friends with her repulsed him, he felt that he couldn’t just leave her like this. She’s going through the same thing as him. He has his brother, who is hardly there half of the time. He doesn’t know who she has, but…clearly she would’ve been with them if she did have someone, instead of being out here in the forest all of the time by herself.

Daryl grunts as he pushes himself off of the ground, sticks and leaves sticking to his jeans, but he didn’t bother to brush them off. “Come on,” he huffs, walking in a certain direction.

Katelyn perks up, “where are we going?” She asks, curious. To her dismay, he doesn’t respond, continuing to walk further in the forest. She scrambles off of the ground, running to catch up to him.

For once in a long time, she’s smiling. Because, no matter how hard it is to read him, she feels that he has accepted her.

[hrrtshape]

this isn’t a question i just want to yap bc u sound like u would like to hear about this stuff

but naturally as someone with higher intelligence i like to think about things a lot and ask questions and form my own opinions and theories about things regarding research and such

and i’ve come to the conclusion that people who disregard shifting as false or mental illness are of lower intelligence and have no sense of self. they disregard philosophy, neuroscience, sociology, and other forms of science because shifting/manifesting goes against the idea that their logic is always correct and never flawed (in that sense, they are right— one who says they will shift, will, and one who says they won’t shift, won’t, to put it simply). but with the logic they are using, they are condemning themselves to an existence of suffering

these people are content with being cogs in a corporate machine. even if they are creative or imaginative, they still hold a standard of mental health criteria that directly relates to how people function under intense capitalism and oligarchy. they think they’re normal because they get up and work their 9-5 and feed their families and repeat the same thing every day. they can’t imagine even having a sense of control over any aspect of their lives.

i think it’s anti human to disregard shifting, among other things. as intelligent creatures compared to other species (who are no less deserving of respect despite, might i clarify), we are naturally curious. we want to build and create and nourish ourselves, both mentally and physically. we want life and community and love and food and to have fun and enjoy ourselves. in current societal structure, that is flattened, nuked, obliterated. anything that isn’t contributing to an oligarchs income is disregarded, because the art, philosophy, music, and culture of working regular people isn’t important to them. and unfortunately, many working people are so affected by propaganda and the belief that rich people are better and stronger is enough to paralyze them. and therefore, we’re turned enemies with the ordinary people, and seen as crazy for even thinking of something that doesn’t align with a capitalist lifestyle because this society is so focused on toppling each other just for a chance to get to the top. there’s no community, no understanding, no gentle or kind nature. we have completely disregarded the power of our own minds as humans, and these people have therefore lost their humanity.

they don’t even know what happens after they die, so how can they know all that happens when they live if they don’t even try to think of anything else?

just wanted to share. :P

you're so right !!!! imagine living in a world where human innovation has birthed quantum mechanics, existentialist philosophy, surrealist art, and entire simulated realities. but you draw the line at moving your consciousness somewhere else. be serious.

your take on capitalism hijacking imagination is so painfully true it makes me want to eat drywall. like yeah, of course, society doesn’t want people believing they have infinite power. how else do you get them to clock in at target for 8 bucks an hour? we’ve literally been gaslit out of our own potential.

also "they don’t even know what happens after they die, so how can they know all that happens when they live" is some next-level, put-it-on-a-plaque, tattoo-it-on-my-rib energy. 10/10. keep thinking. keep yapping !!!!!

[neeahtao]

I suppose i should actually post the premise of the roommates au…

“and they were roommates” au

This takes place not long after the credits of Homestuck. John (and Jane) have just turned 20, while everyone else has been 20 for a few months now.

John is in the midst of depression. He is struggling to look after himself properly, he misses his father, and he feels haunted by how empty the house feels now that he’s living there alone. He doesn’t feel like he has anything to contribute to Earth C, and it’s killing him inside. He feels like a disappointment to his friends and his father.

Dirk had been living with Jake for the last four years, but tensions started to grow as Jake felt that Dirk was holding on to some hope that they would get back together, and their living situation was preventing them from moving on. So, Jake decides to get a place with Jade. Only a few weeks later, Dirk isn’t coping well with living alone again after spending his adolescence in isolation. After talking it over with Dave, he is invited to stay with him and Karkat at their place.

John, occasionally—when he can bother to get out of bed—will go over to Dave and Karkat’s to play video games, watch movies, and eat Karkat’s home cooking. When he’s there, he notices that Dirk is around but never joins them for long, if at all. Dirk is keeping his distance from John because he doesn’t know him that well and just isn’t great socially, but the added fact that John looks similar to Jake doesn’t help.

John, curious about Dirk and his elusive nature, can’t help but ask questions. He hears from Dave the gist of Dirk’s situation, and John realizes how much he relates to what Dirk is going through. Despite the awkward tension John has picked up on between himself and Dirk, he figures that if Dirk needs a place to stay more permanently, he can offer his father’s old room—even if the thought makes him feel a bit sick. He hopes that having someone around might push him to get his shit together.

[judebellenthusiast]

Casual- Jude Bellingham

Jude x female reader

w.c: 4.3k

summary: Two friends, whose connection was once effortless and genuine, now find it teetering on the edge, as Jude’s possessiveness and Yasmin’s reluctance to fully engage threaten to push them toward an emotional breaking point.

warnings: mature language, not proof read

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Another ordinary night at Jude’s place. The TV hummed in the background, a classic British comedy filling the space with familiar chatter. Yasmin was curled up on his couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies, laughing at something on her phone. She looked so at home here, so natural—like she belonged. Like this was hers. And maybe, in some unspoken way, it was.

Jude watched her, savoring the sight. He loved that she let him see her like this—unguarded, comfortable, vulnerable. Not just once, but over and over, as if trust was second nature between them. It made him feel dizzy with something dangerously close to happiness. Because despite the strange, unspoken thing lingering between them, she was still here. Still showing up for him. Still untouched by whatever it was that had been gnawing at him.

And that had been eating at his sanity all along.

A noticeable ping goes off on Yasmin’s phone. Immediately alarmed, Jude shifts, listening to the soft tapping of her fingers as she responds to the message. His chest grows heavy with the realization that, once again, he had interrupted their quality time.

And that makes him hot.

Fighting against his better judgment, he decides to play loving Jude—the version of himself who puts his pride aside, who listens, who understands. It never used to be difficult. But lately, with her? Not so much.

The thought of her with someone else makes his blood run scorching hot.

It shouldn’t. He’s had his flings, his hookups, his forgettable nights. She’s free to do the same.

Still-

“You like him?” His voice is rougher than it should be, his grip tightening around the bowl of popcorn.

She looks up, surprised. “What”

“That guy.” He doesn’t say his name. Won’t. “You like him?”

She hesitates, then shrugs. “He’s nice.”

Nice. Jude almost laughs. He wants to rip nice apart with his teeth. Nice doesn’t know her like he does. Nice doesn’t get to see her in moments like this—wrapped up in him, breathing in his space, wearing his hoodie like it belongs to her.

Tonight, he’s greedy. Completely relentless.

“Since when did you settle for nice?”

For a moment, Yasmin just blinks at him, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she sets her phone down on the armrest, like she’s choosing her words carefully. Choosing how to handle him. It makes him feel like a landmine ; one wrong step and he’ll go off, shattering whatever fragile thing still exists between them.

“don’t start.”

That should be his cue to back off, to shake this off like it’s nothing. He wishes it was nothing. But it isn’t. It’s her. And it’s him. And it’s every moment like this where she’s here but not his.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, nice? That’s all it takes?”

Her jaw tightens. “Well Jude, not everything has to be complicated.”

But we are, he wants to say. We always have been. Instead, he scoffs, running a hand through his hair, feeling himself unravel. “Right. So, what, he sends a few texts, calls you pretty, and that makes you fold?.”

Yasmin tenses, her fingers curling into the sleeves of his hoodie. It’s not anger, not yet—but he knows her well enough to recognize the shift. The moment she starts pulling away.

“That’s not fair,” she murmurs. “You don’t get to do this.”

She’s right, he doesn’t. But she’s here, looking at him with something dangerously close to pity, and it makes his stomach churn. Because deep down, he knows what she means.

Not when he’s the one who taught her how to move on.

Not when he’s the reason she had to.

She looks at him for a beat too long, eyes scanning his face like she’s searching for something morse code , a smoke signal, a reason to stay in this conversation. But whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t find it. She exhales, slow and measured, then reaches for her phone again.

That should be the end of it. He should let her go back to texting Nice, pretend this doesn’t bother him, be the easygoing, unaffected Jude she’s used to. But he can’t.

Instead, he says, “Does he know you steal all the blankets in your sleep?” His voice is quieter now, almost careful. “That you leave the tap running when you brush your teeth, no matter how many times I tell you it’s wasteful?”

Yasmin freezes, Jude’s hoodie failing to shield her from the icy sensation creeping through her. What once felt like comfort now felt paper-thin.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head tilted to the side, a gesture that usually made her needy but now had the opposite effect.

“Does he know you don’t really like horror movies, but you watch them anyway because you love the way people get passionate about them?” His throat is tight now, but he pushes forward. “Does he know that when you’re sad, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying?”

A pause. A long, suffocating silence.

Then she whispers, “What’s your point here Jude ”

And fuck, it hurts. The way she says his name, soft and broken and pleading, like she’s asking him not to do this. Like she’s trying to remind him of all the reasons they stopped being them in the first place. All those intimate nights together, How he ruined her for any other man like a disease taking over its carrier.

How she’d wake up bare and vulnerable to him holding her like she would slip away in the middle of his slumber— worst part is how they’d go back to their usual selves like nothing ever happened

He forces out a laugh, but it cracks at the edges. “Nice doesn’t know you Yaz.” His voice drops, raw and unsteady. “Not like I do.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek—something Jude knew she did when she was annoyed. But once again, he selfishly disregarded her discomfort. He didn’t care. Not when he was ready to burn every bridge between them just to make his point.

Jude had never been the rational one between the two parties, that was always Yasmin. The thinker, the mediator, the one who kept their arguments from spiraling into something irreparable. She was emotionally intelligent in a way he wasn’t, in a way he admired. In a way he adored.

Amongst so many other things, As often as he hated to admit it, she was usually right. She had to be—moderating heated debates between him and the younger Bellingham required nothing less.

“Oh, grow up. What do you know about relationships when your entire track record consists of sleeping with women on the first date and kicking them out before sunrise?” Her words cut sharp, ruthless—but he deserved it for thinking he had the right to judge her.

“I’m actually trying to build something here. Something real—something valuable.” She presses.

Jude makes no effort to chime in, letting her words settle between them like embers still burning at the edges. She had a point—a brutal one at that; but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he stays silent, almost relieved. Because for once, she isn’t biting her tongue to spare his feelings. Even if it comes at his expense, at least she’s finally stopped pretending everything between them is fine.

At least now, they’re being honest.

“Hmm, now you have nothing to say?” She tilts her head, eyes sharp, voice laced with something dangerously close to amusement. “What happened? You had no problem running your mouth about ‘ nice’ earlier. What, Jude? Cat got your tongue?”

Nothing. He stays perfectly still, arms sprawled out against the couch, exuding the kind of ease that only ever masked something deeper. His eyes remain locked on Yasmin, drinking her in like she’s an expensive painting in the Louvre—something priceless, something untouchable.

And then, just to piss her off, he flashes the biggest, most infuriating shit-eating grin.

“You find this funny? What’s so fucking funny, Jude?” Yasmin’s voice is sharp, laced with frustration, her arms crossing over her chest as she glares at him. “Go on, speak up”

Jude just chuckles, shaking his head, that damn grin still plastered on his face. “I’m just glad you finally had the balls to say what you actually feel instead of watering it down, Yaz. Good on you love”

Running a hand through her hair, she takes a deep breath, her patience hanging by a thread. Without thinking, she grabs the nearest object—a pillow—and hurls it straight at his perfectly trimmed set of hair.

It smacks against him with a dull thud, bouncing off uselessly. The grin finally slips from his face, just for a second.

Jude blinks, then tilts his head, lips twitching. “Didn’t peg you as a violent person, Although, I gotta say… that cushion didn’t do much damage.” He leans back lazily, smirking. “Cute effort, though.”

Yasmin exhales sharply, shaking her head as if she’s trying to physically rid herself of him—of this entire moment. This was useless. He was useless.

“ Fuck right off, I’m done,” she mutters, voice tight. She turns on her heel, grabbing her phone in the process– not thinking of her valuables that’s stored in his closet and bathroom drawers for all the times she’d stay over. She practically lived here.

She moves toward the door with quick, purposeful strides. She won’t stay here, won’t let him rile her up just to leave her in the same emotional purgatory he always does. it was usually unintentional but it still hurt.

But then—his hand wraps around her wrist. Not hard, not forceful, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks.

“Yasmin,” he says, and for the first time tonight, his voice isn’t teasing. It isn’t cocky or smug. It’s quiet. Unsteady. Raw.

She doesn’t turn around.

He swallows hard. “If you walk out that door, you’re not just leaving for the night. We both know that.”

Silence. Thick, suffocating.

“Maybe that’s the point,” she whispers.

His grip tightens, just slightly, like he’s trying to anchor her here, to him. “Then tell me,” he says, his voice barely above a breath, Grabbing onto her shoulders turning her body to face his “Tell me you don’t feel it anymore. Tell me you don’t care. That this-” he lets out a shaky exhale, “—that I don’t mean anything to you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Her pulse thrums against his fingertips. “Fuck you”

“Say it,” he presses, voice breaking at the edges. “And maybe I’ll let you go.”

She wants to. She needs to. It would be easier if she did But the words won’t come, because they would be a lie. Because no matter how much she tries to convince herself otherwise—he still means everything.

And he knows. Of course, he knows.

So he takes a step closer, close enough that she can feel his breath against her skin, close enough that if she turned around, there would be no space left between them. “Figures, You can’t,” he murmurs. “Because you still love me.”

Her breath catches.

And just like that, he’s ruined everything

Yasmin wrenches her wrist out of his grasp like his touch burns her. And maybe it does—because everything about him is fire and recklessness and ruin, and she can’t do this. Not again.

“Don’t,” she snaps, stepping back as if distance could save her. “Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that.”

Jude shakes his head, jaw tight, eyes locked onto her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters. “Why not? Because it’s true?”

She scoffs, arms crossing over her chest like a shield. “Because it’s cruel, Jude. You don’t get to throw shit like that in my face when you’re the reason I had to stop loving you in the first place.”

That hits. She sees it in the way his expression falters, just for a second, before he recovers—before he takes a step toward her, crowding her space, refusing to let her hide behind anger.

“Yasmin,” he murmurs, voice low, pleading. “Look at me.”

She keeps her gaze firmly on the floor. She won’t let him do this. Won’t let him drag her back into the storm of him just because he suddenly decided he wanted her again.

But Jude isn’t having it.

“Look. at .me.” His voice is sharper now, desperate, like her refusal to meet his eyes is physically hurting him.

Her chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven breaths. “Why? So you can watch me fall apart for you again?”

“Yes.” The answer comes instantly, wrecked and honest. “Because I need to see it. Because I know you’re hurting, Yas. I know you still feel this.” He reaches for her again, not to hold her down, not to trap her—just to touch her, to make her stay. “I know I fucked up. I know I ruined it. But don’t stand here and lie to my face. Not you.”

She shakes her head furiously, tears stinging at the edges of her vision. “You don’t get to need me now. You don’t get to want me now.”

Jude exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. And then—his voice drops to a whisper, one that slips through the cracks in her armor before she can stop it.

“I never stopped wanting you.”

Her resolve wavers. And he sees it. Of course, he does.

So he steps even closer, tilting his head, trying to catch her eyes. Begging for them. “Please, Yaz,” he breathes. “Just look at me.”

she knows the second she looks at him, really looks at him, she’ll crumble. And she’s spent too long trying to piece herself back together to let him wreck her all over again.

But Jude? Jude is relentless.

His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for her again, to force her to face him if he has to. His breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling too fast, like he’s the one spiraling. And maybe he is. Maybe, for once, she’s not the only one drowning in whatever the hell this is.

“Yasmin,” he whispers, voice cracking.

Her throat tightens. She clenches her jaw, wills herself to stay strong. But something about the way he says her name, like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this moment, has her resolve slipping.

So she looks.

And it’s a mistake.

Because his eyes—God, his eyes—are raw, desperate, completely, devastatingly bare. There’s no cocky smirk, no smug deflection, no armor. Just him. Just Jude. Just the boy she loved so recklessly, so stupidly, staring at her like she’s the only thing he’s ever truly been afraid of losing.

And just like that, she hates him.

Hates him for making her look. Hates him for looking at her like that. Hates him for being so fucking easy to love when he’s spent so long proving he didn’t deserve it.

So she shoves him. Hard.

His body jerks back slightly, but he barely reacts, barely even blinks, just lets her push him like she needs to.

“You don’t get to do this,” she chokes out, her voice shaking with barely contained rage. “You don’t get to sit here and act like I’m the one who left. Like I’m the one who let us fall apart.”

Jude swallows thickly, his jaw clenching. “I know.”

“Do you?” she snaps, another shove landing against his chest. “Do you really? Because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing here, making me relive all the ways you broke me.”

Jude exhales sharply, tilting his head up, eyes flickering to the ceiling like he’s trying to keep himself together. And then, after a long, agonizing beat—

“I never wanted to break you.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

Yasmin lets out a bitter laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. “Well, congratu-fucking-lations, Jude. You did.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I know.”

And then, softer, like he’s confessing the worst sin imaginable—

“And I hate myself for it.”

Yasmin lets out a hollow laugh, “You hate yourself for it?” she echoes, shaking her head. “That’s rich, Jude. You think that changes anything? You think that makes it better?”

She pushes him again, but this time it’s weaker, her hands curling into fists against his chest grabbing onto his shirt

Jude doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop her. Just stands there and takes it, lets her anger sink into his skin like he needs to feel it.

“You have no idea what it was like,” she whispers, voice shaking. “Sitting there, pretending I was fine while you paraded around with other women. Like we never happened. Like I never happened.”

His breath hitches, but she doesn’t stop. Can’t.

“You’d walk into a room with some girl on your arm, smiling like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, and I had to sit there and pretend it didn’t feel like my entire fucking chest was caving in.” Her voice is raw now, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “Do you know what that’s like, Jude? Do you have any idea what it’s like to love someone so much that watching them with someone else feels like dying over and over again?”

Jude’s jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Hey—”

“SHUT UP” She cuts him off, shaking her head. “You don’t get to talk. Not when I spent months swallowing my feelings just to make it easier for you. Not when I had to sit there, night after night, pretending it didn’t hurt to watch you move on like I was nothing.”

“I wasn’t moving on,” he says, and for the first time, there’s something desperate in his voice. “I was trying—trying to forget, trying to stop feeling like I’d ripped out my own fucking heart when I let you go.”

Yasmin lets out a sharp, broken exhale, shaking her head like she’s trying to keep herself from believing him. “Bullshit” Yasmin scoffs, her voice sharp, cutting. “You have everything, Jude. Status, women—hell, you live for that shit. "Bet you enjoyed knowing I was waiting like a lovesick puppy, hoping you'd finally see me the way I’ve always seen you."

Jude finally moves, stepping closer, forcing her to look at him, really look at him. "Stop that. I won’t let you talk about yourself like you’re just a pawn in some game," he interrupts, hating the way she tears herself down with words that couldn’t be further from the truth. His voice is thick, unsteady as he murmurs, "I don’t expect you to believe anything.. but it’s the truth."

She clenches her jaw, her entire body trembling with the weight of everything she’s held in for too long. “You had options, Jude. You had every chance to fix things. And instead, you let me sit there, watching you touch other women, smile at other women, while I had to act like I didn’t care.”

His hands twitch like he wants to reach for her, but he holds back. “I was a fucking coward.” His voice cracks. “I thought if I kept running, if I buried it deep enough, maybe it would go away. Maybe you would go away.”

Jude’s breath stutters, his entire body going rigid as her chest presses against his. She’s so close he can feel the heat radiating off her, can see the fire in her eyes, burning with rage, with pain, with something he knows is for him.

She tilts her head, daring him, pushing him. “Well, you haven’t always been the brightest” she taunts, voice dripping with venom. “So did it work? All that running around, all those one night stands , all that trying to bury your feelings like a fucking pussy—did. It. Work?”

Jude exhales shakily, his eyes burning into hers. “No,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "No matter who I was with or how many nights I tried to move on, none of it ever compared to you," he says firmly, willing her to believe him. It’s raw, unfiltered—straight from the depths of his heart. Grasping her hand, he presses it against his chest, his heartbeat hammering beneath her palm. "This, right here, is real, Yasmin."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath right out of her.

And Jude knows. He sees it in the way her lips part, in the way she grips her arms like she’s trying to physically hold herself together, and for a second, just a second, he thinks he sees her waver. Like the weight of this, of them, is finally catching up to her. But then she blinks, and the fire is back.

“Aw boo hoo ,” she bites out. Pulling her hand away from his chest “I want you to suffer. The same way I did.”

Jude swallows hard, his chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven, too agitated with her stubbornness.

“You think I haven’t?” His voice is quieter now, but there’s something raw in it, something that makes her breath hitch. “You think I don’t fucking hate myself every second of every day for what I did to you?” “Because I had something real—something valuable—and I ruined it. I ruined us. And the worst part?” He lets out a bitter exhale. “I never fucking stopped loving you. Not for a second. Not even when I tried.”

Her breath catches.

And just like that, she’s done for.

Yasmin squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to stay firm, to not let those words seep into the cracks he already left behind. But it’s useless. Because this is Jude—her Jude—and no matter how much she wants to hate him, she knows deep down she never truly could.

She shakes her head, a silent plea for him to stop, to not do this to her. But Jude—of course—doesn’t stop.

Instead, he steps even closer, his fingers ghosting over her wrist, a hesitant, desperate touch. “Say something,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her throat tightens. She can’t. Because if she speaks, if she admits what’s been sitting heavy in her chest since the moment she walked through his door, there’s no coming back from it.

So she does what she always does when it comes to him. She tries to run.

But Jude is faster.

He grabs her arm frustrated with her constant need to run. “Stop walking away from me. Not this time, not ever.”

She exhales shakily, refusing to turn around. “let me go.”

“No.” His voice is steadier now, more certain. like he’s trying to coax her out of hiding. “Yasmin.” He tugs her gently, just enough to make her stumble a step back toward him

When she turns, it’s slow, hesitant, her gaze lifting to meet his like she already knows it’ll be her undoing.

And the second she does, she breaks.

Because Jude is wrecked.

His brows are furrowed, his lips parted, his eyes desperate, pleading. Like she’s the only thing that’s ever truly mattered. Like he’s terrified she’ll slip through his fingers if he so much as breathes the wrong way.

“I love you,” he says, and this time, there’s no hesitation, no running, no fear. Just the truth.

Her chest tightens. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” He steps forward, eliminating the last bit of space between them. “And you know it is, Yaz. You’re it for me”

A single tear slips down her cheek, and when Jude sees it, something in him shatters.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes ,hesitating to reach up– but he does so anyway— wiping her tears. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Yasmin lets out a trembling breath, her lips parting like she wants to say something—but then she just falls.

Not physically. Just enough for Jude to know that, this time, she’s his to catch.

He doesn’t hesitate. The second he feels her falter, he reaches for her—one hand curling around her waist, the other cradling the side of her face like she’s something fragile, something irreplaceable.

Yasmin doesn’t push him away. Doesn’t flinch. She just stands there, caught between her anger and the way his touch feels like something she’s been aching for.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally speaks.

“Thought I lost you,” he says quietly.

“You did ” she responds, her voice sharp. “Nothing between us has been normal recently .”

Jude shakes his head instantly. “No,” he murmurs. “No, I didn’t. Because you’re still here.”

That stops her cold.

Because he’s right- hating the fact that he’s choosing to be rational- part of it likes that it’s with her.

She could’ve left. Could’ve walked out the second he touched her , the second he confessed. But she didn’t.

She’s still here.

Jude sees it, feels it, and he takes his shot. Grabbing onto her face he brushing her curls away gently his long fingers rest against her jaw

"I will spend every second of my life proving to you if you let me. I don’t care how long it takes, I don’t care what I have to do—just don’t tell me to stop loving you, Because I wont.”

Her lips part, her chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven.

And just when he thinks she might actually say it back—

She steps away.

His hands drop, his heart plummeting, but he doesn’t fight her. He lets her go, even though it physically fucking kills him to do it.

She’s crying now, wiping at her cheeks like she’s angry at the tears, at him, at herself.

“I want to, but I can’t.”

His face twists, like he’s in actual pain. “Why not?”

Yasmin swallows hard, looking at him like she’s memorizing his face, like she already knows this might be the last time.

“Because loving you is just.. painful”

Jude’s breath shudders, and just like that—

She’s gone.

[hollenka99]

One thing I really love about Detective Beebo is how the timeloops are, for lack of a better word, dynamic. Nothing stays exactly the same except for the location of the mansion and the 10 characters present on the property.

It means Ángel can only warn Oliver so much. Because sure, don't mess with paintings so Eugene Coli can't stab anyone in the clock room. Maybe don't head for the tower because you could fall despite the railings. Ollie, for the love of god, stop wandering off and giving Coli opportunities to ambush you, just stay close to me where I can protect you instead. Ángel can try to keep his friend safe but there will always be things that have changed.

The main reason for this is of course Coli. By having the antagonist be aware of the loops, even be in control of when a loop ends, it means no two loops will ever be the same. It's like how he takes the keys from the aquarium in Round 2 so it's harder for Oliver to get ahold of them. He is frequently waiting in the shadows. He noticed a handful of people were up on the balcony so he set off the bomb there. Oliver went into the shed when he was presumably nearby so he was able to kill Owen then ambush Oliver, hiding the photobook again.

It reminds me a bit of Edge of the 17th by friight (Spoiler warning since they are kinda unavoidable for what I want to say). In the fic, it is revealed that the antagonist, Dream, remembers the loops too and as such, is working directly against Wilbur's efforts to make the events of the day end with minimal casualties. But of course, with each loop, that's another method of stopping Dream that can't really be used again because Dream knows, he remembers and is able to think of ways to counter Wilbur.

The events within the House of Vera aren't particularly akin to this but the sentiment does stand. Coli knows everyone but Ángel is oblivious to what's going on. He can ambush them with axes or detonate a bomb when a small group is in an opportunistic place. Who cares that one of his targets was outside having a smoke at 8pm? It just means he has to be careful not to permanently kill Ángel but as shown by Oliver's death at the end of Round 3, that's something Coli has to keep in mind for all of them.

Compare this to a static timeloop narrative like In Stars And Time or Groundhog Day where everything is exactly the same every loop, only the protagonist is able to change things. This works well for something like ISAT because it's not actually about beating the King like Siffrin originally believes. It's about how their own insecurities are holding them back and literally making them unable to move on with their life. These types of timeloops also lend themselves to higher loop quantities (I think my Siffrin looped 70-80 times and there are literally articles estimating how many years Phil Connors was stuck in Punxsutawney), as opposed to Detective Beebo where they only loop what, 5-6 times depending on the ending? Which I'd say is typical of the shorter nature of dynamic loops in my opinion.

I would argue Detective Beebo would suffer as a narrative if it had a static timeloop. For one thing, Coli's plan falls apart if he can't remember the previous loops and I doubt he'd ever be satisfied if every time he killed his victims was the first time for him. Even if he was the only one to remember until the end, Ángel being another driving force in the plot would be missing. Just because he fails to save Oliver's (or for that matter anyone else's) life for most of the loops doesn't mean he's not using his consistent memory to help Oliver get closer to the answers. And besides, someone needs to be able to remember or else everyone's just looping endlessly.

Anyway, hell yeah to dynamic timeloops. There should be more of them because they're really fun.

[nikethestatue]

I’m sure someone else has probably thought about this but, what do you think about this theory? Azriel’s mother had a vision of his mate. She had golden hair and brown eyes. Azriel assumes it’s Mor. He thinks it’s her and wonders why the bond hasn’t snapped in 500 years. But upon meeting Elain things just naturally click. And in Acowar, he makes a decision and goes after Elain in Hybern. Do you think the decision was to give up on believing that Mor was his mate and perhaps the cauldron was wrong and he thought that even then?



I think it's a really interesting idea.

I think that if Azriel's mother is related to Rhys's mother, which I think that they are, it's possible that she possesses some interesting powers. The way Rhys's mother made all those dresses for Feyre, and hid the ring makes me believe that she had some sort of predictive powers. So, if she is related to Az's mother, it's feasible that his mother also has something going on with her.

My personal opinion, and I know a lot of people disagree, is that I don't believe that Azriel's was ever 'in love' with Mor. I think he was infatuated with her when he first met her, and then once the whole thing went down with her family and them maiming her, I think he developed protective feelings for her and is certainly devoted to her, however, this grand love affair--I am not buying it.

i think he's been playing a role with her for whatever reason--to protect her reputation, to divert attention from her and her lesbian relationships and onto himself, to maintain a harmonious atmosphere in the IC...

I might be wrong, but I just never felt it from him, this love that spanned 500 years. Besides, if he was so in love with her, he wouldnt be boning random chicks in the same room as Cassian and Rhys within a couple of years of meeting her.

But I think the idea of his mother having Seen an image of his future bride is a very interesting one.

[unserenedreaming]

Yellowjackets rankings

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE FOUR

I have decided to update my rankings weekly, and here they are for week four:

WILDERNESS

I would die for them

Jackie: I am still Jackie's number one soldier. She haunts the narrative across both eras and I love that for her. Every time she's on screen my life expectancy increases five years, my skin clears, and nature begins to heal.

Akilah: The way she holds onto her bunny for comfort during the trial scene made my heart ache. She's just a soft girl stuck in a terrible, awful situation. Still praying that she makes it back to civilization.

Coach Ben: He lives to see at least one more episode, thank fuck. My guy is a self-admitted coward, but I know he didn't set that fire and is either being framed purposefully or unintentionally (see below)

Travis: Continues to be traumatized by the Wilderness & Lottie but he's managing to hold onto his sanity...mostly

Misty: It's a shame Misty never went into law (though she is certifiable so I understand why) because DAMN she had almost everyone convinced, even Tai, of Coach's innocence.

Nat: I felt like this was the first time we actually saw genuine emotion from Nat this season, which reminded me of just how talented sophie thatcher is

I care about them but not as much as the others:

Tai, Van, Mari, Lottie, the others

IDGAF:

Shauna: I get it. She's got pent up issues from Coach being a coward when she gave birth. Maybe she blames him for her baby dying, an understandable anger but it's directed at the wrong person, since it wasn't anyone's fault. I think she knows that he didn't set the fire or at least has her doubts, but she needs someone to blame since it's very likely that it was set by accident (I'm looking at you, Van's vision from ep 3). But bullying everyone into agreeing with you doesn't make you a good leader, it makes you a tyrant.

Melissa: little piece of shit instigator. Girl you gotta understand Shauna is just using you for validation.

PRESENT DAY

I would die for them:

Jeff: Jeff the rizzler, Jeff the charmer. I love this man. He tries (and fails) to have enough empathy for the two of them, honestly believing that he needs to do good things because of karma. If he dies this season I'm gonna throw up

Shauna: I've said it before and I'll say it again: I would die for Melanie Lynskey. Her portrayal of Shauna is so real and wonderful and messy and toxic and hilarious. I love her.

Misty Watching her fantasize about stabbing Shauna before telling herself it wasn't a good place for herself to be, and then stealing that old lady's puzzle pieces was so wonderful. I hope she never changes

Lottie: IT'S GOTTA BE A FAKEOUT RIGHT?? THEY WOULDN'T DO THAT TO YOU RIGHT? She's gotta come back, she's so weird and a little scary but so so enchanting

Tai: Crazy gay disaster with a good memory for romance

Van: Dying gay disaster with shaking hands I'm worried about

I care about them but not as much as the others:

Walter, Callie, Randy (I forgot about him, but he was fun this episode!)

IDGAF

everyone else

Anyways if you made it this far thanks again for reading my rambling. If you agree, congrats. If you don't, also congrats.

[sparkledcrowns]

☆ﾟ*·ﾟSHE WAS FAIRLY reckless in every day life and it tended to get her into a fair bit of trouble. her adventurous nature caused a lot of ridiculous bumps, bruises, and cuts. but she was rather proud of them as she felt it made her a little bit more powerful in a way. with a bright smile, cali was appreciative of knowing that piece of knowledge. "that's very good to know! i tend to get banged up pretty easily. it doesn't usually bother me though," she explained, hoping the girl wouldn't be worried about her recklessness.

"the training ring is probably a safe bet! that way, i can fill up buckets of water to put out my flames if i need to," cali explained, laughing lightly, remembering how her training with cetus required him to put out the flames. "you can grow plants?" her eyes widened with excitement at the thought of it. "oh, i'd love to see! i bet you could make some really interesting vines to use in battle!" now, thinking about all of this, cali was really excited to practice. she liked the idea of having someone practice something else, and trying to encourage them to better themselves.

cali fidgeted awkwardly in her spot. she missed the autumn court sometimes. "i was born in autumn, so i do have autumn powers, but i moved to the summer court when i fell in love. she's no longer here, but summer has now become my home."

WELL, she met one healer now! Sailing from Gaea meant she could have a basic knowledge in everything, but while she had been a lightsinger, & light had thus been her power, Xue had always found herself more attuned to earthy magic & medicinal knowledge. In a way, having light is having the potency to heal, because radiant light had been a necessity for things to live & thrive, just like a restful, sleepy darkness.

"Well, you know one now." she proudly beamed at the other, then found herself nodding excitedly at her offer. "I would love to! I've seen that the Dusk court has a training ring we can use for it, unless you want us to practice somewhere isolated?"

oh, she hasn't used her earth magic since coming here. perhaps she ought to.

"Don't get too excited, it's been a while for me." Xue nervously chuckled, but added. "I can make some light earthquake, if you want? When I say earthquake, I mean barely there jiggle. Or, what I really do best, is growing plants." cute, just not very useful in combat.

"Oh, fire! That is so useful! Are you from Autumn court, then?" she asked, tilting her head. "We can certainly practice our powers together, if you'd like."

[quibbs126]

Also Cream Ferret here is part of a species called the Cream Critters, who are natural babysitters

I feel like this would be an odd thing to just naturally occur, especially since the Cream Critters are likely specifically about helping baby Cookies, so I personally assume that the Cream Critters are associated with/were made by the same entity who usually makes baby Cookies

I’m just adding this on to my personal evidence file

[withacapitalp]

Steddie idea where Dustin is pressing on Robin and Steve about dating again and Steve decides to just blurt out that he's gay but the kind of gay that likes both and that's why he and Robin can't date (Robin apparently just doesn't count as one of the both in his mind for some reason?) Dustin tries to get Steve to see that but he's also in the 'my brother came out to me I must be supportive' mindset, so he instantly decides to flip to Steve you should date Eddie!