#taking corrections if i said anything untrue

[opinion-haver]

okay, let’s say to your point that people are saying terrible things to the transmasc community. that super duper sucks (as someone who is transmasc and doesn’t pass, yes i take area of effect damage from them being dicks about it, so trust me, i think it sucks). that’s literally not my thesis, you focusing on that is deliberately missing the point of my original post in the first place.

the thesis of my original post, which you briefly entertain in your second paragraph, is an ideological distinction: transphobia and transmisogyny being sufficient blanket terms for the oppression transmascs face. the “oppression transmascs face” is not a relationship to power, but like i said before, transmasc umwelt. to make an analogous example men suffer from the effects of misogyny, but they are categorically not barred from political or systemic power on the basis of sex so they are “misogyny exempt” NOT to shut down the struggles that men face, but to realize the proximity to power they have. likewise, transmascs suffer from transmisogyny in some ways, but the proximity to power is in our favor. our issues are not being ignored by those in good faith. (the others, they are irrelevant to me. why are they in this blue sky discussion. i don’t care about them stop dragging them into my post. )

moreover to tie it to the larger picture, because we live in a larger world: you’re just using my post to spread doomerism about the state of affairs. repeating “we’re so attacked, they misconstrue our points and construct straw men, we’re fucked about it.” (i already noted that this was happening in my original post.) what’s the point of you talking about it in that manner? does that serve the trans community in any way shape or form, saying “we are so attacked” to someone who acknowledges the hurt that the trans community at large suffers and is trying to think about ways to move into the future? in fact, seeking my post out to state this, a post not even tagged? it SOUNDS like you feel deeply wounded, and then cope with the hurt by fixating on it. figure it out, some of us are busy going outside and touching grass.

ohhhh ym god i didnt know transandrophobia people existed and now i have to opine on it.

i mean god like. yeah transmascs experience unique axes of oppression but transandrophobia is not a meaningful term to describe a relationship of oppression. the specific misery that a transmasc goes thru is valid but umwelt! yes we are denigrated for being uwu misguided women, but thats downstream of misogyny, of women not holding systemic power. men are seen as violent and untrustworthy, but thats a relationship to power that just loops back around to misogyny again— that women are to be protected around men. yes trans men are weird because they are affected by misogyny but all men are!!! its about power. we are barred from power not because we are men, its because we’re trans.

and literally not a single transwoman is attacking transmascs for not experiencing oppression! theyre asking for support when they feel attacked! at worst theyre constructing strawmen who dont support them but that literally exists when transmascs are also creating strawwomen that demonize them when they too ask for support when they feel attacked!

this is to say, if semantics bother you nomenclature is less important than the underlying idea being agreed upon. transmascs are suffering transmasc woes. transfemmes are suffering transfemme woes. we could be fucking kissing about it?! i love you stranger, so bite your legislators dick off, not each others!!!!

[reasonsforhope]

Hey cactus! I wanna say I am really greatful for all the hopeful post cause it is really is a big relief to know good things still happen. I also am curious how far you go to do fact checking to see if something actually happened or gives a positive impact cause I personally have problems in doing that myself and would like to know your take on it. Again, thanks for everything and keep on fighthing :)

My fact-checking protocol is that whenever I use a new source, I vet them, primarily by checking their home page to see the focus/tone of their coverage, and more importantly, by running them through one of the best sites ever, Media Bias/Fact Check.

They do report on history of bias and history of accuracy in detail, with sources/examples, and run their own fact-checks regularly. They're a massive time/life-saver.

From their home page: "We are the most comprehensive media bias resource on the internet. There are currently 8600+ media sources, journalists, and politicians listed in our database and growing every day. Don’t be fooled by Questionable sources."

Other than that, I mainly go off context, sourcing, and level of specificity in the articles. I don't go through and check all of the sources of my sources, or anything, unless I genuinely want to read more. That said, I've been doing this for a while, am fairly caught up on science and politics. I also literally work as a freelance fact-checker, sometimes. So I'm pretty good at figuring out when something doesn't smell right and needs more verification. I also have a couple sources that I have mentally asterisked as "90% good, but double-check just in case."

Generally, the bigger and more impactful a claim is, the more I verify it.

I also appreciate when people post corrections and/or more info, which is usually in the notes. I wish I could say I've never posted anything that turned out to be untrue, but unfortunately that is not the case! On the rare occasion that happens, I generally delete the post and sometimes make a separate post about it, or reblog it with corrections, depending on how much the inaccuracy impacts the story as a whole.

[bats-and-birds-24]

Chapter 10:

Tim finally broke the silence, “So, Jason, um- how have you been since you were resurrected?” 

He cringed at himself as soon as the sentence came out of his mouth. He didn't know Jason before his death, and yet here he was being overly familiar with him.

He tries to correct himself with, “Sorry about that, um- it just that I’m a huge fan of your Robin, you were my inspiration and everything, I used to follow you around on your patrols when you were a kid and-”

Jason’s brain stopped working at “used to follow him around as a kid.” How long did B know about Tim’s existence? Did he already have a backup in case something happened to him? He wouldn't put something like that past Bruce, this was the man who kept notes on how to take down his closest friends in a fight. 

Mostly he felt like a fool. A fool for trusting Bruce. He took advantage of Dick when he was grieving the loss of his family, he took advantage of Jason when he was homeless, and- “how would Bruce take advantage of a Bristol kid like Tim? He probably got everything he wanted.” The pit whispered in his ears.

Jason shook the green out of his vision and looked at the kid once more. Tim said he was following Jason and Bruce around on patrol, there would be no way for him to do that if he had attentive guardians, he was probably neglected as a child and latched on to his hero and the first adult to give him attention.

“It was pretty easy to follow you guys around since my parents were probably in an archaeological digs somewhere.-” Tim rambled on.

“Hypothesis confirmed.” Jason thought bitterly. As jealous as he was towards the kid, he was just another child put into danger by Bruce. 

He cut him off with “Do you really think you became Robin of your own free will Tim?”

Tim looked up at him bewildered, “I’m not sure what you mean, Bruce didn't even know I existed until I forced him to make me Robin.”

“Tim you didn't force him to make you Robin, he manipulated you into becoming Robin, do you really expect Bruce, the world’s greatest detective, to not know that you were stalking him?” Jason spat out.

Tim drew back, “Of course he didn't know I was there! He didn't want me to be Robin after you died, but his methods of crime suppression became too violent afterwards since he didn't have a Robin to keep him in check! It was for the good of Gotham!”

Jason didn't know whether he should laugh or cry, “Tim you're a child! You shouldn't have to maintain a grown man’s emotions for him!” He should be doing normal kid stuff like going to school and hanging out with friends, not fighting criminals and ending up in life or death situations.

Tim stomach churned, of course his idol didn't want Tim to be Robin, he could live with Jason thinking that he was a poor successor, but he also seemed to think that Bruce manipulated him into becoming his sidekick, which was patently untrue. He had to correct it.

“Jason, I wasn't manipulated.” Tim gently stated.

Jason's anger burst out, unable to contain the pit any longer, “Of course that's what you would say! He has you wrapped around his finger! He doesn't think of you as anything more than a tool!”

Tim’s anger was reaching its limits as well, “Well, how is being Robin with Batman any more dangerous for a kid than being trained as an assassin under Talia Al Ghul!”

“Shut up! It's not the same!” Jason replied hotly. 

Tim could feel tears pricking his eyes. So much for a calm talk with Jason, his idol.

That was when the door swung open and Talia appeared, “Aziz, take Jason to his chambers, I will meet with him later.” She walked straight up to Tim, gave Jason a look that meant that she would be back for him, and led Tim out into the hallway.

“This isn't your fault child, you shouldn't have put all this pressure on yourself to bring him back.” Tim tried to focus on her words, as the rest of the world blurred under his tears.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

"you'd like me to what?" zhongli had been enjoying your company in silence for a spell before you had blurted out a request you wished he would fulfil for you.

"show me how to fight with a polearm." zhongli had not yet divulged the information about him being a god to you, and as far as he knew you hadn't known just how much physical power he possessed. so why ask him?

"may i ask why you've chosen to come to me with this request? i'm afriad i am quite at a loss."

"well, you go out with the traveler on occasion, right? and they're super strong and it's not like you go on leisurely walks among the hilichurl invaded mountains of liyue." before zhongli could even try and rebuttle, you keep going. "and truthfully, if you go out into the rolling hills with the traveler covering you everywhere you go, that makes you look kinda bad you know."

"bad?" his voice pitches and recoils slightly from your words.

"making them do all the work while you sit back and do nothing! that certainly would paint a bad picture if you keep going out there willingly and don't learn. so! you must know something."

"hmm," he hums, wordless agreeing with a small furrow to his brow and a sweat on his neck. though your scenarios were purely hypothetical and very untrue since he does carry his own weight very well, it still wasn't a picture his wanted you to paint of him. "perhaps.. you're correct. but, then why would you request training specific to polearms? could you not ask a local millelith for aid?"

"i could i guess," you deflate and he almost cracks right there. "but hu tao said you were definitely a better choice in regards to what i'm looking for."

zhongli feels a deep sigh in his chest at the mention of the current director. yes, this does have her written all over it. if she wasn't looking into ridiculous ways of promoting the business of death, she was snooping around in zhongli's love life- or lack thereof since you were not his significant other much to her displeasure.

"last i check however, you were already very skilled in other means of combat. why the sudden interest?"

"isn't is a good thing to broaden your horizons? that's what childe said anyways."

you've also convened with childe it seems. lovely.

"you really should disregard anything those two say." his voice is normal as he speaks, but the dryness of it makes you laugh. he wasn't joking, but he smiles at you regardless.

"well, i'm not going to pressure you!" you get the sense that his questions were a very very polite way of stalling you from a rejection. "if you dont want to, childe did offer since he said he's mastered every form of combat aside from archery." zhongli felt his brow twitch.

"i also wouldn't recommend getting too frivolous with childe. kind though he may act, he is still someone to be cautious of."

"because he's a fatui?"

"partially." also because he'll easily vie all of your free time from this point onwards until he leaves liyue if you go to him for training. zhongli wouldn't get to enjoy your company like this anymore if you do run to childe, and that idea alone makes his chest itch. "i accept your request."

his calm agreement makes your face light up and your eyes shine with such excitement he feels antsy. strange how strong the urge to kiss you grows when you look at him like he had just hung the stars.

zhongli is lucky the next time you see childe and tell him that zhongli will be training you with polearms, he's seated up in the higher shops of liyue's red-fenced architecture. the strained, yet begrudging look of disappointment to cross the harbingers face is a perfect appetizer to go with his fresh cup of tea.

as is the smug look zhongli shoots him when childe feels the burning gaze on his skull and looks up once you saunter off. zhongli takes pleasure in knowing he is a being who is and always will be above childe, both in his current fenced in seat above his head and higher status of being. a mere fatui harbinger has nothing on a god, gnosis or no.

zhongli was untouchable by many, in many ways. you however, all you had to do was simply ask and he would do whatever you wished.

besides, he hadn't forgotten what childe tried to do to his nation where all his beloved people and you resided. and his memory, much to childe's misfortune, is very good.

[starwarsmum]

Day 26 and I have to dedicate this one to my very first Maribat friends @psychicdelusionwerewolf & @mrsjacuinde

Prompt is Robin, My Heart and it's a prequel to my Lost in Paris fic!

@maribat-calendar-events

Damian had been in Paris for several months and not much had changed. He spent his money frugally but he had yet to find a job so his cache was dwindling nonetheless. He also had yet to find a sparring partner to keep himself in fighting fit form, and it irked him.

He was playing with his phone, looking at the three contacts he had gained in his time. Two were perfunctory, the gym manager and the landlord, but the third was the woman who had helped apprehend the purse snatcher he had taken down a month ago.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a woman who could take down a grown man without breaking a sweat and had shown she was fit and able. He had only contacted her once or twice, asking for recommendations for things like the gym he now used, or places that sold decent wares at a reasonable price, but now he wondered if she would be open to training with him.

He thought about the man who had welcomed Marinette home on the evening that he had met her, and paused. Would he be overstepping? He had never seen the need to follow societal norms when interacting with women before, but that had mostly been in the realm of vigilantism. 

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he sent a message asking if she would like to go to the gym with him. He was relieved when he received an enthusiastic confirmation in return and was quickly able to agree a time to meet.

He was almost excited as he waited on the sparring mats in the gym. When she entered and shot him a smile, he experienced a strange heart palpitation. He forced his mind away from that and greeted her politely.

Their fast spar was short and brutal. He had not expected her to go as hard and lethally as she did and so he ended up flat on his back, staring at the lights of the gym.

“You know, you don't have to take it easy on me,” Marinette said, grinning down at him. She held out her hand and he accepted it to pull himself to standing. 

“You are a very capable sparring partner,” he admitted with a begrudging smile. They started again, Damian trying not to telegraph his moves and Marinette smirking mischievously. It ended the same way as before, again and again until they were both sweating and tired. 

“We should definitely do this again,” she said as they exited the gym. They had changed and walked at a leisurely pace along the streets.

“I thought you normally trained with Adrien? He is your boyfriend, isn't he?” Damian asked, though he wasn't sure why he was asking it. 

“Ex-boyfriend,” Marinette corrected, a slightly sad smile on her lips. Damian shoved away the thought that he hated it and focused on what she had said.

“If it upsets you that it is over, why did you end things?” He asked, satisfied when her eyes brightened instantly in challenge. And then he was annoyed that it had evoked such a reaction from him.

“How do you know I ended it? Maybe you're just rubbing salt in an open wound.”

“Forgive my bluntness, but he would have to have been an idiot to end things with you.” Damian’s mouth felt dry and his palms slightly sweaty, and it confused him. He wasn't saying anything untrue, Marinette was objectively a beautiful, kind, loving woman, and if Adrien had ended things he should be checked into Arkham.

“Nice that someone sees it that way,” she muttered, though a genuine smile was starting to perk up the corners of her lips. “For the record, he started the talk but I'm the one that decided breaking it off would be the healthiest thing for both of us.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng: heartbreaker,” he deadpanned, stomach flipping when she outright laughed. She nudged him as they walked and he pretended to be wounded.

“Marinette Mercy Killer, maybe. Our relationship was limping along by the end, someone had to take it out back and put it out of its misery. Now maybe we can find people who make us thrive and grow, rather than just comfortable.”

“Were you together long?” He was not asking because he was curious, he was asking because it was an expected question in these situations. 

“Since we were fifteen,” she said, shivering lightly in the crisp autumn air. Almost without thinking, he shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over her shoulders. She seemed startled by the gesture, but smiled softly as she huddled into its warmth. He tried not to feel too smug when she took a deep breath of his scent. 

“That is an impressive length for children,” he agreed. He was confused when she stopped until he realised that they had reached her apartment. “It must be difficult for you now that it is over.”

“It was harder at the beginning,” she said, hands twiddling her keys deftly. Anticipation curled in Damian's gut, even as he tried to curb the thoughts racing through him. She's single, a voice that sounded disturbingly like Dick's said. “But it's been a couple of months, and he's been dating again so maybe it's time for me to try too.”

She means you! That voice sounded like Jason and Damian shoved it aside with the same vigor that he would have done his actual brother. He swallowed as she darted a look up at him, her bottom lip between her teeth. They could be between yours- 

“Only you will know when you are ready to try dating again.”

It was such a non-answer that he could see Marinette freezing up before slumping slightly. She gave a light laugh that made his stomach hurt but then she was smiling even more brightly - so brightly he wondered if it hurt her cheeks.

“You're right, of course. Well, thank you for seeing me home, Damian. Here, your jacket,” she said, stripping it off so quickly he could only stand there and blink. “Have a good night, I'll see you around.”

She was past her door before he could find his voice, only shaking out of his internal world when the door clicked softly closed. But he stood there for a lot longer, frowning with his hands clenched around his jacket.

_ _ _

“He gave me a brush off, Chlo,” Marinette said heavily when she had poured herself a large glass of wine and settled down for her regular video call. “I'm getting mixed signals from him, one second he's saying Adrien would be an idiot for breaking up with me, and giving me his jacket and asking how long we were together…and then he's saying I'm the only one who can determine when I should date again! Was I too subtle?”

“Dupain-Cheng, you are a wonderful person but subtlety is not exactly your strength. If he brushed you off then he's not interested. Which works for me because he seems like a class A jerk - which I know a little something about, having been a raging bitch for my formative years.”

“You just don't know him very well,” Marinette sighed, taking a long drink from her glass. “Besides, you turned out okay after spending time with me.”

“Marinette, you are worth more than a bum with no job, no friends and a bad attitude,” Chloé said flatly.

“He's not a bum, he has a home and everything. He even pays to get into the gym! I don't know, maybe I just can't read him as well as I thought I could. It wouldn't be the first time.”

They chatted for a little longer, talking about Chloé's upcoming internship and her course at Metropolis University. She also asked how Marinette's parents were doing and when she was planning to come back for Christmas.

“Okay, it's got to be getting late over there DC. Behave yourself, and try not to give your heart to people who don't deserve it.”

“I never give it, people just steal it,” she whined, her voice slightly slurred from the drink, but only just. “What am I s’posed to do, say ‘hey, no robbin’ my heart’?”

“God you are such a lightweight. Goddammit Marinette, you are French, learn to hold your drink. Talk to you next time, get some sleep you crazy woman.”

“Barely French,” she muttered at the dark screen, sighing and flopping back in her bed. Exhaustion crept over her and she passed out, until Tikki woke her up. The Kwami seemed urgent, but Marinette felt groggy until the League of Shadows was mentioned.

Electrified, Marinette shot out of the bed and almost forgot to call for her transformation before she leapt out of her window. She scanned the shadowy alleys until she spotted a silent scuffle happening. 

Releasing the hold her yo-yo had to keep it anchored she plummeted into the fight. She moved swiftly, knocking back the assassins until they arrived at a stalemate. They hissed something at the man they had been attempting to end and vanished into the shadows. She turned to the man only to freeze when she saw who it was

“Thank you, I am out of practice,” Damian gasped, his hand clenched to his side. Marinette started as she saw the blood leaking between his fingers. He saw where her gaze was directed and grimaced. “This is nothing, a light stab wound. My mother just likes to remind me that I am not invulnerable from time to time.”

“...your mother is part of the League of Shadows?” Marinette said, worry and dread making her voice break slightly. 

“More like she leads it,” he said grimly, though a wry smirk made her think he was trying to use humour to alleviate the tension. 

“I don't know how to process this, so I'm going to put a pin in that so we can get you some medical help,” she said at last, moving towards him.

“I will be fine, I just need to get home,” he gasped. She hesitated for a moment before nodding sharply and leaping to action. 

Before she knew it, they were slipping in an open window of his apartment and she was rushing to the bathroom that he indicated a medical kit would be in. She worked fastidiously, stitching the wound and infusing it with some of the Ladybug's miraculous cure to speed along healing. Once finished, she leaned back and looked at him.

“I think now would be a good time for you to explain what's going on, and why you're bringing assassins into my city,” she said when she was sure he wasn't going to die on her.

“I suppose that would be fair,” he conceded, pulling a shirt over his head with barely a wince. “Though I would like to ask my own questions once we are done.”

“You can ask them,” she said, not bothering to say that she might not answer. He nodded before launching into the story of Damian Al Ghul, heir of the demon, son of the bat, who was cast aside by his mother and sent to live with a father who did not choose to have him.

Marinette listened with intense concentration and grew more and more indignant on his behalf. When he explained that he had left home because his father did not trust him she stood up and swore as she started pacing. When he stopped, she looked at him impatiently and gestured for him to continue.

“There is little more to tell you. My mother likes to test her luck occasionally and sends her minions to incapacitate me. Tonight was one such attempt, which I am grateful that you thwarted. May I ask a question now?”

“Sure, I guess that's fair,” she said, hands in her hair as she tried to absorb the information he had thrown at her. “One more from me though - why are you telling me this? I thought you bats were all about secret identities and you kind of just told me who everyone is.”

“You hardly seem the type to use the information for ill gain,” he said, humour sparkling in his eyes. Marinette refused to turn into a puddle at the smirk he was giving her, but it was close. 

“But you don't know me! I thought all of you bats were paranoid, antisocial creatures, definitely not the types to trust in someone's good intentions, even if they are fellow heroes.”

“Well that cannot be entirely true,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. She groaned in frustration but waited. “We must know each other, given I did not direct you to my home and yet here we are.”

“Oh, uh, are you sure you didn't say something?” She said weakly, annoyed with herself for the slip. “You could have been delirious from blood loss and just don't remember.”

“Is that what happened?” He asked archly and she cursed her inability to lie. He smirked again after she was silent for a moment. “I thought so. Regardless, I saw fit to tell you and trust that you will not betray that trust.”

“Of course I won't,” she said immediately, slumping onto his sofa. She muttered, “Spots off,” and felt the magic wash over and out of her. She couldn't look him in the eye but felt him stiffen beside her. “Surprise?”

“I will need a moment,” he said, staring at her. She laughed nervously and fiddled with her hair. “I had not anticipated you being a heroine.”

“I don't suppose that changes your mind about going on a date with me?” She asked without thinking. Blushing to the roots of her hair she decided to play her cards as she'd already tipped her hand. “I mean, we have a lot in common.”

“Ah, yes, so much in common: Ladybug, the heroine of Paris, leader of the Miraculous team and secretly the kindest person in the room at any given time versus the failed Robin who cannot get a job and once held the moniker ‘Ice Prince'. It's a wonder people don't confuse the pair of us.”

“Is that why you won't date me? You think I would hold your past against you? Because the Damian I know is kind, willing to help strangers and walks me home at night to make sure I'm safe. And I'm not sure you can say you're a failure given you weren't kicked out.”

“But they did not come looking for me, did they? It is obvious they felt I made the right choice in leaving it behind.”

“Then they're stupid,” she said bluntly. Exhaustion was making her reckless and she turned to face him, being careful not to jostle his wound. “Damian, I like you. I would like to go on a date with you, and see if there's something more to this. I was a coward and implied that I wanted to date you before, but I'm asking you now, yes or no, do you want to go on a date with me.”

“Only an idiot would say no, but Marinette-”

“And you're not an idiot,” Marinette said sharply, tracing the outline of his face with a finger. “Give me a chance to prove this could work.”

“One date?” He asked cautiously and she beamed at him. He smiled back at her, though much more subdued. “And if it does not work out, we can continue as friends?”

“If, but I have a good feeling about this,” she yawned and stretched. “Mind if I crash here for the next couple of hours? I was drinking earlier and my head is already starting to kill. Plus, I'm on hand if you need any more help or protection.”

[the-phantom-otaku]

I recently learned that apparently Cazador not only let Astarion be buried, but he left him there in his grave for a year before going to retrieve him. (I know this info is found by using the Astral Tadpole. I think he'll tell you if you're trying to convince him or once he's convinced to take it.) Edit: This is actually untrue. I originally heard this over on twitter and didn't look up a clip to verify. The person I heard this from actually misinterpreted this scene, in which you use the Illithid powers to search his mind and you find the memory where he was locked in a tomb for disobeying. I think they thought it was a memory about how Cazador left him dead and buried rather than another way to find out about the harshest punishment Cazador ever gave him. Doesn't have too much of an affect on the rest of the post, but I want to correct myself. Tho I will say Cazador leaving him dead and buried for a year before finally awakening him as a spawn is a neat headcanon, and like I said before, WOULD make a lot of sense. People would be sure to notice that the recently murdered magistrate is suddenly back and luring commoners back to the Szarr palace.

Anyway, I had thoughts regarding the whole thing.

Astarion's body had to be tended to and prepped for a burial, and those bite marks are not subtle even 200 years later. Do you think Cazador paid off or threatened whoever dealt with his body? Or maybe he just had one of his servants do the preparations. Maybe he approached Astarion's grieving family and offered to not just pay for the burial expenses, but to deal with the whole process "so the family could grieve in peace." Anything so people don't think there are vampires roaming and so his family thinks he's dead and gone for good.

Astarion also destroyed his own coffin just a year later when Cazador woke him up. I wonder if his family thought his grave had been defiled and robbed of the corpse inside. Maybe people blame the Gur. They were the ones who killed him (from everyone else's perspective). They also took issue with his ruling, which led to the attack in the first place. To everyone else, it would make perfect sense for the Gur to rob his grave. Not just for revenge, but with all the rumors around, I bet people speculated that they used the young magistrate's body as bait for a monster or that they performed some ritual on it so his soul would suffer for eternity. Perhaps Cazador is even responsible for starting these rumors and stoking the fires to keep suspicion of him low.

Speaking more on his family, I wonder if the reason his grave is overgrown and unkempt is bc they left Baldur's Gate, either after the murder or after his grave was "robbed." As in, it wasn't bad enough to lose their child, but then he couldn't even rest in peace, and they couldn't bear to be in the wretched city anymore after the tragedy. Or perhaps Cazador forced them from the city via string pulling. It just further ties up any loose ends and gets rid of people Astarion could reach out to for help.

Anyway, I think that's about all I wanted to say. The whole thing with him being turned is so vague that I couldn't help but turn some ideas in my head.

[woobifykamukura]

ghdsfkjghdsf is that a common thing?

I don't really get how he'd be misdiagnosed anyway; it would need brain scans, especially since it's so rare at his age, and if anything it would have been misdiagnosed as other conditions for a while. Only going off cry-stars here- I have no expertise myself- but she's said that can happen and there was a recent case in Japan where a young guy's dementia was mistaken for depression for ages.

If we doubt Komaeda's FTD it can only be via doubting his honesty imo (but I still think he's telling the truth). I also love seeing analyses of him through the lenses of other disorders as comorbid instead of alternative diagnoses- especially autism, but I've seen interesting takes wrt OCD and BPD too- but canonically I feel like bvFTD, extreme post-traumatic stress and political radicalisation adequately explain his issues.

TO BE FAIR it probably isnt As common as i think it is, i just saw one reddit post thst explicitly claimed the FTD was a misdiagnosis and that it totally makes way more sense for komaeda to have autism and bpd, and a surprisung number of people... agreed? for some reason??

which i need to state for the record a) i am autistic myself and b) have absolutely zero problems with headcanons, even if they arent ones i ascribe to personally

what i DO have a problem with is people erasing canon neurodivergencies and/or erasing traits CENTRAL to a character in order to square-peg-round-hole the headcanon THEY have as the most correct one

"nagito has ftd and was autistic before that?" cool! neat! seeing how those two disorders being comorbid with each other could be really interesting!

"nagito does NOT have ftd, the devs were wrong, they actually wrote an autistic character and didnt realize it" stop talking.

this is very like, misanthropic i guess but after SO MUCH SHIT ive seen it just speaks to an unwillingness to empathize with or relate to anyone that isnt exactly like you. and you cant just headcanon real people around you with Misdiagnosed Autistic (most.... times....) so this pops up in fiction

like. i am autistic! i also have two (2) personality disorders, and neither is bpd. this has led to a non negligible amount of autistic people completely stereotyping my other disorders as evil in order to prop themselves up ("i thought i was a narcissist/sociopath, which wouldve been awful, but really i was just autistic! phew!!" with implicit, sometimes EXPLICIT value judgements being made)

i have had a friend i had in real life, to my face, say he didn't believe i had either personality disorder and really i was secretly just autistic

...if we had been better friends, maybe he would've known me well enough to know that that's almost... comically untrue. lol

so in my opinion there do exist a certain minority of autistic people who see autism as the only neurodivergency that Matters, or at least the one that matters the most. and the only way they can feel any sympathy for anyone else is if they are also autistic

and i know this is a minority! and i just see it a lot because i am an autist in fandom and a lot of other autistic people are also in fandom! AND that this is a mindset prone to ANY minority- most people think their Problem is the Worst Problem, it just... happens. however i am just as irrational and prone to biases as anyone else and ive chosen this as my completely irrelevant hill to die on

that one reddit post made me so goddamn mad bc of All This PLUS its double insulting when someone says "i have a special interest in psychology!" as a way to say theyre extremely knowledgable, and doing genuine analysis with the lens of "i am looking at the text and trying to make an objective diagnosis" and then STILL DO THIS!!! because they have this veneer of "im just a guy asking questions" before diving right into a weirdly consspiratory subset of "everyones an idiot about mental health except for ME"

...which tbf i dont think that about myself. i am very good at writing a wide variety of mental illness due to a combination of research and life experience BUT i could really only tell you like. actual non-surface level FACTS about aspd and to a lesser extent, npd. because thats what i chose to focus on. there are far and away lots more people that know more about me about other things, and im fine wit that

i am however also aware of this extremely hyperspecific social phenominon. and thus it is my burden to bear. my mountainous molehill.

also r/danganronpa just fucking sucks like in general. every time i see a kokichi opinion there i get a little closer to pulling the trigger. i think the real moral here is reddit is garbage and should not be used for anything other than product reviews

(also fwiw i agree w ur personal take at the end, with a lil bit of ocd tendencies that like, started off manageable and nowhere near diagnostic level badness, since things he might do to manage his cycle and even the constant thinking about it are very much reminiscent of obsessions and compulsions. but ftd in of itself can cause ocd symptoms so after that it got... worse. thats my personal take on it ^^)

[superm4ks]

charles didn’t have drs after overtaking 4 cars, it was lap 1. you’re entitled to your opinions, and i don’t even particularly disagree with it, but i find it odd that you don’t acknowledge that max getting 20 sec gap to p2 wasn’t also due to the safety car & red flag while charles’ lap 1 is being justified on the track change. idk just food for thoughts, i don’t think minimizing how good charles was in abu dhabi—not even his best race of the year—and saying it’s not comparable to max’s one when they gained the same number of place, even if under different circumstances, is particularly justified and incomparable

again, it’s not to fight with u, max’s drive in brazil was generational, no one is denying it

😐 Friend. U do understand ur fighting wid me on this. Ur on the defensive here and I have no idea why. I never said sharl gained his initial positions thru DRS no clue where u pulled that 1 from. I described that 1st lap as prolly sharls best of his career. Unsure why this isnt enough of an acknowledgment to u like I gotta prove something here. Thats the trend wid some of yall that ann0ys me. This weird ass insecurity when it comes to somebody like Leclerc, whose record is anything but. I made a reference to a reply from that same user, that Yas Marina doesnt favor overtaking from the back like Interlagos, which imo is untrue. I kinda live for circuit trivia so it was a nice chance to mention that '((in 2021)) Chicanes 5 and 6 were turned into a single wider hairpin, specifically to promote more overtaking, where interestingly enough sharl went outside 4 cars before entering DRS.' BEFORE entering the DRS literally means BEFORE entering the DRS straight. Thats it. I assumed people understood DRS wasnt enabled atp and I was just referring to the track characteristics.

Plenty of sharls charge to the podium during this race was made wid DRS bro believe it or not I think it takes absolutely nothing away from his performance. DRS seen as a clutch but some tracks like this 1 its a wobbly one. A driver has to be able to beat an opponent to a specific detection point not just thru the straight line sections but technical corners as well. There were plenty of other drivers who unlike sharl cud not make use of it like he did because they didnt manage their laps as well. Idk how u can read what I wrote before and say I 'minimized' Sharls Abu Dhabi drive. The op I addressed claimed Sharl 'stole' the best drive of the season from Max's Brazil. Thats not saying shit is 'comparable' and its not 'justifiable' no matter how u wanna look at it. Its laughable even. I wont hold back on that sorry. I think its a bonkers thing to say. Sharls Abu Dhabi was a great drive from an ever growing future threat to the standings, and u wanna etch his 1st lap into the fabric of history like sure. I think he taught some lessons in terms of managing the chaos around him to immediately execute a series of flawless overtakes and reestablish control of the pecking order wid sheer pace and ability in a single lap. But Max's drive in Brazil is not comparable to Abu Dhabi in any way shape or form because its not comparable to anything anybody else has ever done wid cold tires under pouring rain in this era of Formula 1. It exists outside of the average realm of racing. I feel like I'm repeating myself and its getting frustrating. Interlagos wasnt a good career drive, it was an historical individual effort by an all time great who turned unprecedented circumstances into an advantaged he carried to a title. We agree thats generational correct. So lets leave it at that.

[good-thymes]

˚⊹ᡣ𐭩 Spiritual Misinformation ⭒ˊˎ-

Please.

Don’t believe everything you see on TikTok. This is ridiculously untrue.

Seeing “fuzzy shapes and swirls of colors” when you close your eyes is NORMAL. Almost EVERYONE has this. They are called phosphenes.

What worries me most about this, is the comment section that is filled with people saying “wait really??” and “that makes so much sense!” No it does not, because it isn’t true. Check your facts first, TikTok is the LAST place you should do research in. This isn't a small video either; it has 61,3k likes as of now and only ONE comment says this is wrong, everyone else just takes it as full truth.

Spreading “facts” like these, is dangerous. It can make people believe spirits are constantly around them when they are not and cause spiritual psychosis. And not just that either: having phosphenes in excess can also mean you have another medical problem. Spreading these “facts” can stop people from going to a doctor when they might need to.

Please be mindful when you spread “facts” around. Always double check when posting OR reading things like these.

As always: if anything I said is wrong, please correct me! This is based on my own research and I am no professional, so I can always make mistakes. Also always feel very free to share your own thoughts!

[sku-nk]

For someone who runs a blog dedicated to writing fanfics, you're writing isn't the best. You only bother with punctuation and proper grammar when you're writing, but it should be all the time. "Not even tripping lol," you said. That's no way for an author to speak.

The first thing you wrote was promising, and I was excited for an addition to the few Sam Carpenter writers we have. It was decent, though I couldn't get much of Sam's personality from it. The next two fanfictions you wrote let me down. (one simply because I don't care for Tara much) Perhaps that's why I prefer it to you're lastest, in which you do write Sam with more personality.

My main issue with it is that you give Sam a casual, boyfriend-ish sort of vibe. That's nothing like they way she'd behave. I have hope that whatever you post next is up to par, though that hope is fading as I type.

-An unsatisfied reader who hopes to educate you with their constructive criticism

alright so first read through i can already see an error in your spelling. youre using the incorrect your/you're (which in this case would correctly be 'your'). this docks about ten points from your overall grade. it's a common mistake, but for someone sending a hate message about my grammar you should know better.

continuing my read it all looks relatively decent (aside from the fact that youre completely ignorant to some people preferring to text and chat like they speak) until i get to your silly little side note about disliking tara, which you make using parentheses. when you end a sentence with anything in parentheses, the correct move would be to put the period after it. on top of that, you continue to use the incorrect your/you're. minus ten points for each.

i noticed that in the last paragraph, you wrote 'they' instead of 'the'. minus ten.

your signature does need a bit more work, its not nearly as legible as it should be. it seems like it says something it obviously doesnt. it looks as though it says 'An unsatisfied reader who hopes to educate you with their constructive criticism.' we both know thats untrue, though, and it should read, 'A coward hiding under the anonymous button hoping to disguise their hate as constructive criticism.' that takes away about 25 points since your name is the bare minimum and you fucked that up.

your hate message gets an overall grade of 35%

-skunk, who urges you to get a fucking life and write your own shit if you dont like it

[jisforjudi2]

From Hello Magazine February 27 1993

Barbara Hale remains in the hearts of most as Perry Mason's indispensable right-hand lady, Della Street, of the well-loved series.

A little over 20 years after the original series ended, in 1985, Barbara reunited with her old co-star, Raymond Burr, also known for his Ironside role, for a revival of the popular programme in a series of new Perry Mason dramas for TV.

This time she was also joined by her son William Katt, who will also be recognised for his role in another television series, The Greatest American Hero, and in a few episodes, Nita, her daughter, who has just starred in the new Star Trek series, Deep Space 9.

Barbara's marriage to fellow actor Bill Williams - his real name was Herman Katt - was one of Hollywood's most durable. Sadly, Bill Williams died last September.

The couple met on the set of West Of The Pecos and married two years later in 1946. They had one son, William, and two daughters, Nita and Jody. Jody  is a speech therapist.

But whilst Bill, a former professional swimmer, enjoyed a successful career as a leading actor in the Forties, his wife's career appeared to take over in the early Fifties.

With countless successes behind her, on the big screen as well as on TV, in films such as Jolson Sings Again, Lorna Doone and Airport, the actress could be forgiven if she now opted for a quiet life. However, she starts work on another seven episodes of Perry Mason in March in Colorado.

And with four grandchildren, all clamouring for her attention, she admits, rather thankfully, a quiet life looks unlikely. Apart from Alika, 13, and Ukyah, 11 - her daughter Nita's two children (pictured here) - she also has two more grandchildren by her son William: Clayton, 13, and Emmerson, nine.

Barbara, when did you know that your future lay in acting?

"When I was still very young, I knew that I wanted to be an actress more than anything else. I put it to my parents and they soon realised that I was serious about it. So, with their approval, I went to study at the Academy of Art in Chicago after having graduated at high school.

"A chance meeting with an agent led to me working as a model for fashion magazines and that in turn brought an offer from RKO Studios in Hollywood, where I was signed as a contract player."

It was said you were a good actress, surrounded by very good actresses.

"Well, people say a lot of things when you start to become well known, some of which is true and some of which is untrue. It's certainly correct to say that I was in very good company with actresses such as Katherine Hepburn, Irene Dunne, Ginger Rogers, Lucille Ball, Joan Fontaine and Jane Russell as contemporaries. Like me, they were all studying acting and waiting for the roles that would turn them into Hollywood stars."

Barbara, your husband Bill died last September. You met him early on when you were working for RKO Studios didn't you?

"Yes, thanks to acting I not only got to be a star but I had the wonderful opportunity of meeting my husband, who was not only a total gentleman, but a marvellous person and deeply in love with his family. He transmitted his sense of family to me and his children and now I don't know what I would do without them - especially my grandchildren."

What is your life like now?

"Very quiet. I very much live a family life, and I'm completely dedicated to my grandchildren. Their upbringing is very important to me, especially now as they're beginning to get to that difficult age. I have four grandchildren all to myself. Becoming a grandmother has been one of the most gratifying experiences of my life."

Have any of your children followed you and your husband into acting?

"Yes, my son William is known for his part in the series The Greatest A American Hero, and I'm very happy for him, although we always told our children that we would be happy with whatever they wanted to do. Not everyone wants to be an actor.

William is very involved with the world of acting and I'm proud of everything he's done. But I'm also very proud of our daughters Nita and Jody."

And your grandchildren?

"Well, that's another subject altogether. I'm one of those grandmothers who just doesn't stop talking when she gets on to the subject of how wonderful her grandchildren are. They are my greatest joy, and seeing them grow up has been an even more wonderful feeling for me than watching my own children growing up.

"They're at my house all the time, they always want me to tell them stories about the great myths of Hollywood, and they're always ready for one of my special desserts, which they say are the best in the world! I would be delighted if one day one of them decided to follow the footsteps of their grandmother." 

____________________

INTERVIEW & PHOTOS: DAN GOLDEN

SHOOTING STAR FOR KEYSTONE-NEMES

[privateanxieties]

hold them gently (these confessions) P.2

Summary: When she awakes, the world is different. Matt Murdock, however, is still the same grounding presence he's always been. And if he's a little protective of her, well... she isn't going to complain.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (she/her); fluff, pining, mystery, suspense.

Warnings: canon-typical mentions of violence/crime

Words: 4,035

Part 1 here

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

"This is all so fucked."

Over the three minutes or so that she'd been awake, those were the clearest words she'd been able to make out. She was in bed, everything was soft, and there were people arguing in another room. Her eyes had yet to open. Unsure of what she'd see when they did, she elected to keep quiet and keep focusing. Whatever it took to shut it all out. Everything. Anything. Whatever wasn't happening now, her mind forced away into a box and buried it deeper than one would a time capsule.

"Foggy, keep your voice down."

It was harsher than she'd ever heard Karen speak in the year and change that she'd known her. She could guess the reason behind it, and she shoved that away too. A fortress. A lone island at sea. A long-lost and half-finished chapstick tube. Perhaps if she thought of all easily dismissed and forgotten things, the knowledge of what happened would become one with them.

"She can't hear me. She's out cold. Do you know why? Because Matt knocked her out. I found him, holding her. They were covered in blood and next to them was carnage, so don't tell me to keep my voice down, Karen!"

A violent door slam wrenched her eyes open. She heard footsteps. Bags clattering to the floor. A chair screeching against wood.

"She can hear you. She's awake. So, keep your voice down."

Her breath hitched before she corrected it hastily, not wanting any reminders of her earlier circumstances. The left side of her head throbbed painfully against a cool, damp cloth. Matt had placed it there. Her fingers were resting against something cool and plush. His sheets. His bed. His apartment.

He likes silk. Prefers it.

The panel door in her peripheral vision slid open quietly, her head following the motion until it was angled towards the entrance of the bedroom. The skin of her cheek brushed against the silk of the pillow.

It's not the one he sleeps on, or one that anybody sleeps on.

It was brand new — much like the outfit he was now wearing, and the absence of red glasses on the bridge of his nose. She'd never seen him in athleisure before.

Neither of them said anything. Then, with steps that fell harder than they should have, Karen brushed past him and hurriedly approached the bed. She tensed on instinct.

"Don't touch her!"

The blonde woman jumped — either in surprise or incredulity, she didn't know. She'd never heard the soft-spoken attorney raise his voice or use that tone. Whether she was imagining things or not, Karen's glower didn't seem to be entirely lost on Matt. However, no apology was issued. Awkwardness settled in for what she presumed would be a long stay.

Matthew shifted in place, at last gesturing for Karen to take a seat at the foot of the bed if she was inclined. She wasn't. But, nothing could deter her from continuing to skewer Matt with her gaze like he was a rotisserie chicken she'd throw to the dogs. He cleared his throat.

"I couldn't find your gloves, so I got you these."

The closer he stepped to the bed, the more she was seduced into a trance by the odd circumstances. It was not a long distance, but he traversed it differently than the way she was used to seeing him move. She told herself it was because of the familiarity of the space, even while she knew it was untrue. There were too many things happening. One at a time, before you're right back where you started.

Clutched delicately in Matt's left hand was a pair of blush pink gloves that she could guess the price of simply by looking. They were much longer than any of her normal pairs — opera gloves, they called them — and the texture of the fabric invited an eager touch on sight. Or it would have, if she didn't feel so strange with Karen watching their every move.

Sitting up slowly, she shuffled out from beneath the covers and gently caught the damp cloth before it fell into her lap.

"Um— "

"Here," Matt said, nimbly reaching forward and taking the cloth from her by its opposite end. The gesture left no doubt in her mind. He told Karen not to touch her. Growled it, almost. He got her new gloves. He was careful not to touch her himself.

It was both soothing and terrifying.

"Karen, would you give us some space, please?" Matt asked. He was a lot more polite this time, but Karen bristled at his words.

"Oh, you need space? Well Foggy and I need answers, Matt. A man showed up at our office covered in blood, and now he's— "

"Shut up."

The harsh command tensed the muscles of several people in the room.

"He's what?" she asked quietly.

Karen and Matt were engaged in a stand-off too intense to respond, both looking like they were holding back biting words. The blonde's hands were in tight fists by her side. Matt's jaw seemed in danger of breaking from the pressure he was applying.

"What happened to him?" she tried again, chaotic images swimming at the edge of her vision. They were ready to wander in and splatter the walls of her mind with every shade of red imaginable.

"He came to. Looked around. Then he took a pen, ran it through an eye and into his brain."

Everyone turned to Foggy as he came to stand in the doorway, hands in his pockets and expression severe yet unreadable. A moment barely went by before Matt was veering his head towards the blonde, raising an accusatory finger with a scowl.

"I told you to— "

"You've told me nothing, Matt! I watched a man kill himself on the floor of our office! The whole place smelled like the slaughterhouse my uncle used to take me to when I was twelve, but that wasn't pig's blood! It was a person's blood. Someone that died there. And you haven't told me anything besides 'shut up' and 'keep quiet' and 'we'll talk when she wakes up'. Well, now she's up. And I want answers!" Foggy raged at his friend.

The time capsule she tried so hard to bury sprang from the earth at breakneck speed, spilling all its contents in the process. Red came flooding back.

"He killed five people."

It was her turn to push all the air out of the room, and she could feel everyone's attention on her as she picked at the top of Matt's silk duvet cover. Her hands were clean, though she remembered them being bathed in crimson. She couldn't be sure if they'd been or not, flashes of someone else's fingers dancing around her mind.

"His name is — was… Arthur. Um, Arthur Gregsby. Before he showed up at the office, he hacked up five people over three hours. He cut them. Burned them. One of them, he drowned in a sink. Another, he lowered into a pool of acid. A third, he kept alive while he removed limbs. The other two he buried inside coffins that he filled with rats."

Nothing. No one had anything to add. She continued on shallow breath, eyes closed.

"The oldest was a seventy-two year old woman. Brown eyes. Gray hair. She had a… a wedding ring on." She'd already been missing a finger. She was going to miss more. "The youngest— "

"Sweetheart, stop," Matt implored.

"The youngest was a fifteen year old boy and I can still hear him screaming."

Endless seconds of shuffling preceded a firm closing of the thin panel separating the living and bedroom areas of Matt's apartment. The space fell silent for much longer than she was comfortable with, or maybe time flowed differently here — a place she'd always wanted to be, but not like this.

"Here."

His voice being so unexpectedly close managed to pull a startled gasp from her lips, but she suppressed it before it could devolve into a cry. Her eyes flew open as he placed the gloves he'd been holding on top of the duvet she was fiddling with. They were no longer pristine, ugly wrinkles scattered where he'd grasped them harshly. She traced the edge of one with a reluctant finger, unsure if feeling nothing was preferable to feeling what she was now. His surroundings calmed her. His sheets smelled like him. They were an extension of his body; a way for her to hold on to something stable.

"Have you called the police?" It was a wonder she could still find it in herself to ask, but looking at him while she spoke? That was an entirely different beast.

"Foggy did. We both gave statements. They'll be wanting yours as well. I told them you passed out from shock." She breathed out. "Which… isn't a lie, is it?"

The way he asked. So sure of what he was saying. A tinge of sorrow colored his voice.

"You were scared almost to dea—"

The gloves were put on at lightning speed, and she was pulling on Matt's hand with even greater desperation as the images threatened to come back. Her motion chipped at his equilibrium, and he fell next to her with a small huff of surprise. His hands came up to grip her biceps, thumbs soothing the covered skin with gentle rubs. His face betrayed little other than a general anxiety, but it was his eyes that told her something of what he was hiding inside. They fell somewhere below her own gaze, murky with unshed tears.

"No. I wasn't scared. I'm scared now. Before, all I could feel was what he felt. Matt, I know how this is going to sound. And I know you have no reason to believe this, but— "

"Hey — stop for a second. We don't need to talk about this now. You're hurt. Why don't you rest for a while and we can take it slow?"

His words gave her pause, the throbbing at her temple making itself known once more. It had taken him pointing it out for her to even notice. It also made her think he didn't believe a word of what she said. Of course. He thought the blow to her head must’ve been the cause of all this. That she was making things up. The realization spiked her adrenaline.

Matt's hands tightened on her arms.

"I trust you. Completely. Please don't think I don't. But your heart almost stopped while you were in my arms just a few hours ago, and I think we both need some time to recover from that."

The creases that gathered at his eyes in the ensuing quiet made her lips tremble. She swallowed around a painful lump that threatened to cut off her air.

"I don't want to be alone."

If it sounded pathetic, she didn't care. It was only by virtue of his firm hold and steady presence that she remained anchored in the now. The briefest, smallest smile pulled his lips upwards.

"C'mere. I've got you,"

She went into him mindlessly, hiding her face in the collar of his hoodie as his arms enveloped her whole. A quick flash of hope blossomed in her chest as her cheek brushed his for a split second. I've got you.

She knew it was a promise.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Nearly five hours later, her feet at last swung over the edge of the bed in search of a shower. She was mostly clean; Matt had seen to it that the places she'd been grabbed were thoroughly cleansed and disinfected when he brought her to his house. She was lucky the man hadn't dug his nails in, what with the copious amounts of blood drenching every inch of his body. Still, a shower was what her body told her it needed, and Matt was quick to encourage it, leaving out a pair of sweats and an old Columbia hoodie that she guessed he'd chosen due to its smaller size. He'd filled out since then.

Now that her brain was starting to mellow out from the frenzy, it was getting easier to ask questions. Questions like how the man had made it all the way to Hell's Kitchen and into a law office without anyone noticing him. She couldn't remember everything. She barely knew what happened after Matt arrived and pulled him away from her. The sparse glimpses of places and times that she got when the man grabbed her were considerably drowned out by everything else he had experienced that day. Many other questions lingered just below the surface.

However, just because she could ask herself reasonable questions, it didn't mean there were answers at the ready for when Foggy inevitably started digging into her. He was still waiting in Matt's living room, whereas Karen had left hours ago when Matt announced their paralegal was going to be taking a nap. Point made. Non-negotiable. No inquiries until she rested. She couldn't sleep, but the timeout helped all the same, with Matt floating nearby and offering food along with grounding touches.

It was nice — being looked after with such care. If the situation had been different, she might've even gone as far as to say that she felt protected. The illusion was strong enough to warm her from the inside out. While Matt's intentions seemed very real, whatever protection he could offer her would only ever extend to the physical world. There was no fighting the demons or men drenched in blood inside her mind. But, the shower helped.

It helped until she closed her eyes and saw bruised hands grabbing at an electric saw as if they were her own. The buzzing in her ears blasted off so suddenly that she tripped and fell backwards, hitting the shower wall and creating a definitive ache in her shoulder. Moments later, as she shakily got up, a knock sounded at the door.

"Are you alright?" Matt's voice, though muffled by the shower and the bathroom room, allowed his concern to run clear.

"I fell. I'm — I'm ok," she called out, shaking the sound of bones cracking from her brain.

She quickly wrapped up the rest of the shower, despite a desire to wait for the water to run cold. Gloves back in place, she was tying the elastic of the sweats as tight as it would go when another flash burrowed itself behind her eyes. A rope that was being used to lower not one, but two caskets, slipped and chafed the hands of the man holding it. The thud of wood on damp soil preceded a muffled scream.

When she snapped out of it, the thin piece of string at her waistband was so tightly wrapped around her index finger that it was starting to turn the skin a different color. Her palms burned. She avoided her reflection in the mirror and left the bathroom before she could stare into the empty sink any longer, feeling the tingle of another flash like roiling ants beneath her skin.

Matt wasn't far away. He stood just at the end of the long hallway leading to his living room, holding two drinks. His gaze lingered in her general direction as he held an orange mug out to her, offering it with a careful smile. Traversing the small distance between them, she grasped it gently, mumbling what she hoped was a solid enough 'thank you' in return. If her voice shook, he made no mention of it.

Her grateful inhale of the cinnamon notes in the cocoa was abruptly soured by a voice laced with sarcasm.

"I ask you if you have hot chocolate every time I come over, and every time, you say no. Did you manifest it just for her?"

"No. I bought it."

Matt's blunt reply stirred a weak chuckle, but the other half of Nelson & Murdock was not amused. Standing behind the couch, Foggy fixed them both with a mildly threatening scowl. He seemed more tired than usual, hands anxiously kneading the back of the sofa like a disgruntled cat. She watched as Matt approached his friend and silently held out the other mug. Foggy's scowl deepened falsely. He was melting on the spot, yet trying to act tough.

"What, no mini marshmallows for me?"

She gazed down into her own cup. Pink and white fluffs filled it to the brim, nearly overflowing.

"You don’t like marshmallows," Matt replied, still holding the drink out.

"Well, I want some," his friend retorted stubbornly, glare intensifying.

She couldn't handle this.

"Here," she mumbled, quickly pacing over to them. Removing a glove by trapping it between her teeth, she gently shooed some of the fluffs into Foggy's mug, careful to avoid Matt's fingers at the edge of the rim.

It was quiet. Foggy took turns narrowing his eyes at both of them, until finally, blessedly, he accepted Matt's offering.

"I want you to know — if she wasn't here, I'd be yelling at you," Foggy declared.

"Well, in that case, please stay," Matt said, angling his head towards her with the hint of a smile. It shouldn't have made her go as soft as the treats in her cup, but combined with the words he uttered, it made for a light fluttering of her stomach.

She was used to this sort of interaction from the two law partners, but her being talked about in this manner, as if she were to be given special treatment — that was relatively new. Foggy and Matt were both wonderful to work with, and while she felt they all shared a closeness exceeding their professional relationship, today was likely to have changed all that. Over a year of diligently trying to fit in, to be normal, to make a new life for herself doing good things… it was all going to crumble sooner or later.

As if in sync with her morose thoughts, Foggy took a seat at Matt's kitchen table and set his mug down with a resounding thud. She jerked involuntarily, gnawing on her bottom lip. She was right. It was all crashing down.

Then, a deep sigh almost deflated Foggy's entire being as a mumbled apology somewhat relaxed her shoulders. She watched him curiously, fingers tightening around the mug and lips itching for a sip she was too scared to take, even if it would calm her nerves.

"Look… this is a mess. I think we all know that, so no beating around the bush. Whatever this is with you, I need to know. I'm sorry these are the circumstances we're in, but you need to tell us right now— "

"She doesn't need to do anything, Foggy," Matt interrupted. It was strange to see him move as he was, almost shielding her from his friend's view, but she chalked it up to his uncanny sense of coordination. She again had a feeling it wasn't quite the whole truth, but more pressing matters were at hand.

"Look, Matt. I know what she means to you. I get it. But we both heard what we heard, alright? She knew that man's name. What he did. In an abundance of detail. He killed five people, according to her, and then himself! I think we're past skirting around the fact that there's something going on here!"

I know what she means to you.

For some reason, those were the only words her mind could accept and focus on as Matt reeled a court-worthy reply at his friend. In the background of her attention, they kept exchanging arguments.

What did she mean to him? What had Foggy meant by that? He and Matt were the best of friends. They'd known each other for over a decade. Friends knew things about each other — deep, intimate secrets. To hear Foggy make mention of what felt like one of Matt's secrets, especially when it involved her, was a dizzying experience under present conditions. He'd been undeniably protective of her since she woke up.

And… and before, even. The more she thought about it, the faster memories started trickling back. When he came into the office and ripped the man away from her, beating him into the ground like he'd done it a million times before. His motions were precise, calculated. It was not an act of self-defense, erratic and driven by emotion. It was practiced. Second nature, almost. He knew how to fight. He was doing it now, albeit verbally. She knew where he got the practice for his oral sparring; he was a marvel to witness in court. But the relentless assault of his fists was learned too, and she once again pushed away knowledge that lingered at the edge of her consciousness.

She wasn't going to be the cause of their row. Whatever became of their friendship and of her future at the firm, she wouldn't be the culprit for broken relationships again.

"It's called tactile cognition," she spoke over them both, a small crack in her voice that she quickly cleared away. The room went abruptly quiet. She forced herself to speak before she lost the nerve. "It's… an ability. I was born with it. When I touch things, I see a whole… history of them. Where they came from. How they were made. Who handled them. And when I touch people…" she paused, trailing off in the hope that it might help her gather enough courage. She wouldn't look at either of the men whose attention was fixed on her.

"When I touch people, I see everything they've seen. I know what they've thought, what they've done, where they've been. I feel everything they feel. It's uncontrollable and overwhelming. That's why I need these," she explained, holding up her free hand to call attention to the gloves she was starting to sweat in. It was more for Foggy's benefit. She knew Matt had likely figured it out from before. He got her this pair, after all.

Foggy blew out what sounded like an incredulous scoff, but still she didn't look up. Silence stretched on for what felt like hours. It was broken by the most unlikely statement.

"Great, now there's two of you," Foggy muttered.

That made her head snap from its downward position and straight to the blonde, who was instead looking at the other man and cringing away from him. With good reason, too, because Matt was almost snarling at him in the next second.

"Foggy!"

"Sorry, sorry! I'm sorry, I just thought… You know, since we're all sharing— "

"It's not yours to share!"

"You said you were gonna tell her anyway— "

"Yes, me. I was going to, not you!"

"Well, you took your sweet time with it and look where we are!"

That seemed to make Foggy's mouth clamp shut, eyes going wide as if disbelieving of what he'd just said. As proof that her judgment was correct, a moment later he was parting his lips to speak again, brows pulling together in an apologetic grimace.

"Before you go all Catholic-guilt on me, I only meant that we could've all been in the know with each other and today would've gone a lot smoother."

The gaps in knowledge had become unbearable. No one was saying anything about what she'd just confessed to. Both attorneys seemed more concerned with a piece of information that hadn't been shared.

"In the know about what?" she finally asked, eyeing them both carefully. Matt had gone entirely stiff, as though someone encased him in an ice block to capture the world's most accurate portrayal of rageful fear. Fearful rage? Those were definitely the two most prominent emotions on his face, though which of them took precedence was still a mystery. His jaw was once again locked up, either to hold words in or to prepare to launch them with exceptional precision. He didn't get to do either.

"Matt's Daredevil."

With an exasperated sigh, the blonde threw his hands up, eyes rolling into the back of his head as if he knew what was coming. Another row picked up swiftly.

She looked between the two men with light apprehension, mouth drying up the longer it stayed open. Well. Her secret certainly didn't seem all that noteworthy anymore.

-to be continued-

Part 3 (final)

A/N: Aaaah I'm so sorry but I wrote too many words again so I had to break up part 2 into two chapters. I'll post the last one a few hours after this one and it's going to be (finally) what everything's been leading up to. Thank you for sticking around!

Tags: @dielgonacoffee @sunflowersandsapphires @thespiderthatbitme @whourish @theetherealbloom

I know I said no tag list but since I broke it up again I figured it would be fair to let people know when the next part is up. If you'd like to be removed from the list, please let me know. Also, the strikethrough means I couldn't tag you. Thank you to those who reblogged/commented on the last one, I appreciate you and I hope you enjoy this one :) If anyone else would like to be tagged for the final part, all you have to do is reblog this one. Please don't ask to be tagged if you don't even interact with the story.

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Episode 7 Preview (What would Ray do without Sand?)

Oh thank god, we're returning to Ray/Sand harmony and fluff next week. How many times has Ray thanked Sand for saving his life now? At least three: (1. Stopping him from drunk-driving 2. Preventing him from having his head bashed in 3. Chasing after him to ensure he didn't end up in worse shape after a car accident). Like literally Ray, you owe this man your life on multiple accounts. Marry him already.

So predictions were correct, Ray ends up with his arm in a sling due to a car accident after the events of Episode 6. Sand says, "I'm your emergency staff anyway" which is a nice call back to Ray referring to Mew as his emergency contact.

We'll also be getting Sand taking care of Ray whilst his arm is out of action, which will no doubt deliver some sweetness. I know Sand joked about this a few episodes ago, but is there anything this man hasn't done for Ray yet? He really is becoming Ray's designated caretaker through and through.

We get this line "you're more addicted to me than alcohol now." I wrote a previous meta on precisely this very premise if you fancy a read HERE.

But truly, Ray is increasingly learning to rely on Sand (like a crutch). Sand is there for him when he has no one else. The things Sand does aren't particularly remarkable but they come from a place of genuine care. Little by little, that impact is going to add up. Ray will wake up one day and suddenly realise how he can no longer function or operate without Sand in his life. How quickly Sand has become a permanent fixture that Ray can't do without.

(I have a feeling this will not happen) but my hope is Ray addresses the things he said to Sand at the bar. "You don't want to be a singer. You just want to make money." "Or I need to pay you, whore?"

From Episode 3 onwards, Sand declared that he would no longer take Ray's money as he now considers him a friend. For Ray to phrase it in this way, as if Sand has only spent time with him for this reason is completely untrue - and Ray knows it. Though Sand is amazingly patient and forgiving as per usual, I'm sure those comments stung. Ray needs to be really careful he doesn't get into a habit of saying things in a moment of anger and not realising the impact of his words.

[matan4il]

Hello, am I crazy or do the majority of news sites report mostly on what the Hammas claims, what Egypt claims, what Lebanon claims, what Iran claims and Israeli voices don't get shared nearly as much? Am I just biased or does it feel to anyone else like even the 'reputable' sources from countries that are officially 'pro-Israel' share mostly one-sided stories? I feel very disillusioned and shocked at the reactions of people on the internet. People who call themselves tolerant, liberal, human rights activists... I've lost respect for many. I truly wonder how many of them even knew anything about Israel before Hammas attacked. Sorry for pushing my feelings onto you. I hope you are as well as you can be.

Hi Nonnie! Thank you for the ask.

You're not crazy. It's partly because Hamas, as a terrorist organization, is not accountable to anyone, it doesn't have to tell the truth. Neither do Egypt, Lebanon or Iran. They can say whatever they want to, they can make any claim, and if it turns out to be untrue, no one will hold that over their heads.

And these leaders KNOW that the first report people will hear is the one that's most likely to be set in their minds.

If there's a correction a few hours later, people might hear it, or they might not. Either way, the dramatic impression and emotional impact of the initial report are likely to last if I they do hear the correction.

Take the claim about the hospital explosion, for example. Hamas right away said it was Israel's fault. (BTW, Hamas also immediately said Gaza had 500 dead. From experience on Oct 7, it took HOURS to confirm 100 dead. There's no way that within a few minutes, Hamas could accurately report 500 dead. The number could be very high, even hundreds of people, even 500 or more! I'm just saying there's no way Hamas could reliably know that within the period of time it published that number) Hamas knows it would take Israel hours to check this. In the meantime, for several hours, this false, demonizing report circulates online, on every news channel and so on. Even if a few hours later, Israel has proof that it's Palestinian terrorists killing their own, will anyone hold Hamas accountable? Is anyone going to punish it in any way? If they say it's Israel immediately, without even checking, they only stand to gain condemnation and hostility towards Israel, even if it's a total lie.

Why do news channels collaborate with that? Because they're running a business. And if there's an emotionally loaded headline that will get them rating, they will run it. And if there's a headline like that which their competitors will run right away, then instead of waiting for confirmation from a more reliable source, they will run it in order to not get left behind. When it turns out to be false, at the end of the day, they can just run a correction, and that's enough. That's considered doing their journalistic duties. Who cares that the damage to Israel has already been done?

So yeah, it's a good idea to be careful, and wait for confirmation when the only source for a certain anti-Israel story is an antisemitic terrorism organization, or an anti-Israeli regime.

And in conclusion, I think this is a really good point to tell apart people who are actually pro-Palestinian from those who are just anti-Israel. The pro-Palestinians will call PIJ out for killing its own people.

Thank you again for the kind words, Nonnie! I'm as safe as anyone in Israel can be right now. I hope you and yours are good! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[hero-israel]

i know i'm stating the obvious but:

the thing that gets me is that. erasing jews' indigenity to the levant and casually claiming israel is committing genocide and apartheid… it's all untrue and completely wrong and horrible. and obviously that needs to be recognized.

but at this point there is a part of me that is like "it doesn't even matter whether or not israelis are Colonizers."

because even if it WAS true, even if israel was doing every horrible thing some of these people claim, NONE of that justifies celebrating rape, mass murder of civilians, child murder, and harassing and committing violence against jews globally.

i don't know how to talk to anyone who thinks labeling people "an oppressor" means you can justify anything to them, even war crimes and the worst kinds of human rights violations. i thought it was obvious that was unacceptable, at the very least among people who purport to care deeply about human rights.

i suppose it's naive of me, but it truly was a shocker to find out how much of the Left's commitment to human rights was a complete lie. i expected antisemitic responses in the form of "whataboutism," in downplaying what happened, and even denial, but not this. i thought there would be some people acting like hamas were oppressed freedom fighters and denying their atrocious tactics... i didn't expect SO MANY people to outright celebrate the horror.

i guess it's just making me realize how many of these people don't actually give a damn about human rights, about human suffering and justice, they care about being Right, and finding righteous targets to hate and attack. i always knew that existed, but i assumed that was a small, vocal minority mainly online. the rot goes so much deeper than i realized, and i have no idea what to do about it.

While it certainly does matter that the "colonizer" frame is a complete lie, you raise a good point about the significance of a supermassive surge in leftist advocacy for the death penalty and corrective rape. These are often the same people who want prisons and police abolished, but it turns out they held far more enthusiastic lust for gory revenge than your average Texas governor. They increasingly talk like abortion clinic bombers.

They have no principles, only a vocab list. Every woman Donald Trump grabbed was a colonizer, as were all the protestors Kyle Rittenhouse shot in Waukesha or James Fields rammed with his car in Charlottesville. John Wayne Gacy preferred targeting white males. It would take perhaps 3-6 words to make them into left-idpol heroes. What happens when a school shooter figures out to say "colonizer"? No, really. The man who beat Sarah Halimi to death in her Paris apartment said he saw Hebrew writing on her walls and it made him feel persecuted and oppressed.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting to talk about a fandom with a friend?

We've been friends for 6-7 years, but we're not close. Just your regular internet friendship where we both have close friends and seperate friend groups, but us two were in the same fandom initially and that's how we know each other.

She's in a lot of fandoms casually but her ult fandom is massive, I'm in a smaller but still big fandom. We're both fandom olds, we both know fandom etiquette and behavior, we're both adults with our own lives etc. Please don't assume we're unattended teens in a petty fight.

We have both shown interest in each other's fandoms, we both understand we can't be more involved there than we already are. That's all fine.

I used to talk about my fandom with her initially, about 2 years ago, but I gradually stopped since she's not that interested and I have other friends to talk to who are already into it. Besides I have a short social battery, so I don't *need* to talk to everyone all the time.

The issue is: After not showing that much interest for months and me not talking to her much, she's trying to talk to me about it now. But all she sends me are theories from people I have blocked or people dragging this media and expecting everyone to laugh with them, outlandish mischaracterization, hot takes that are just fans insulting the creator over their own piss poor reading comprehension, memes that have been done to death etc. All in all it's things my fandom friends and I are sick of.

And it's particularly bugging me because my friend here faces and rants about the same shit in *her* fandom! She gets my issues with mischaracterization or creator bashing etc same as I do with her! But it's as if she never paid any attention when I said 'This and This are untrue or hurtful' or 'I hate when This is said' or correct her on anything that from insider pov is borderline offensive. Ofc I wouldn't expect her to know... except I *have* told her many times and I share a lot of posts talking about it so anyone following me would have a general idea even if we never spoke?

This is partly why I stopped talking to her about it because for the last full year and some more, every few weeks she brought up the same bad fanons. And after I debunked them she said 'Oh that's terrible!', then after a couple weeks same old same old. Ofc that's really frustrating.

We stopped talking about it like I said, but she's now back on it and I'm not reciprocating. When she wants me to look at her memes or talk about the ships I make it clear that I don't want to do that. She has other friends from my fandom who are into those tired takes she shares, she's not speaking into a void. I'm free to talk about anything else but her behavior for over a year is pulling me away from her tbqf.

I feel like I'm being a bad friend, it's just fiction. But she takes her own fiction just as seriously and rags on people she disagrees with way more than me. So I don't know, I like my friend but I hate talking to her about anything fandom related. Did I make it bad for myself by sending her things in the beginning when she was probably saying odd things to signal she wasn't interested? I think so.

PS: If any of you think about replying with 'Eh who cares fanon is fun, take a joke' etc, control yourself. Thank you.

What are these acronyms?