#that said this is the only one of these that exists so if you somehow see someone wearing this it will acctually be me probably

[monopurple]

(i agree with op)

this might sound like i'm reaching but i feel like a lot of forcing a binary onto chara/kris/frisk reeks from micro aggressive enbyphobia. a lot of this enbyphobia is just very surface level of a much deeper issue that is rooted in society.

cis people are unable to view things without forcing cisnormative gender norms on everything. this cisnormality results in non-binary not being seen as a genuine identity and just as a weird third, secret unnatural thing. all of this results in a lot of microaggressions and gender debates on heavily-implied non-binary characters (mangle for example). everything outside the binary is stigmatised and seen as unnatural, which leads to people pushing gender norms onto everything.

it is a product of cisnormality being forced onto society. if cisnormative gender norms ceased to exist, would you really still see people debating on identities of non-binary characters? people being unable to comprehend that characters can be non-binary is simply just a surface level product of this issue.

now obviously, are people debating identities on non-binary characters as bad as an issue of real life enbyphobia? obviously not. but it is still a surface level product of enbyphobia. it is a result of people looking at society and all media they consume from a cisnormative lense that when they see something that doesn't fit those lenses, it challenges their thought process that they were usually taught growing up.

the utdr fandom being able to accept that frisk, chara and kris can be their own people and have their interests, but are unable to even comprehend that they might not be either male or female, is surface level enbyphobia. you are able to accept whatever frisk, chara and kris do outside of our control is them being their own person, but gender is where you draw the line of something not being up for interpretation?

maybe back then, i can understand. a lot of people were pre-teens/young teens when they first got into undertale so gender out of the binary was a very new concept to them. so projecting their understanding of gender onto the human characters was their only way of identifying them. but if you are pulling this shit today?? you definitely need to check up on your beliefs.

also did you guys know that toby fox never said anything about the human character's genders being up for interpretation? that was a straight up lie made by undertale fans back in the olden days just to justify pushing frisk/chara into a binary.

there is no way all of this isn't a byproduct of enbyphobia and society being obsessed with forcing gendered roles onto everything. if you see a character, being their own person, strictly using gender neutral terms and you somehow find a way to force them into a binary? that is a product of your cisnormative beliefs. what other reason is there to force gender norms onto them?

i think just accepting that characters can be non-binary and may not fit into the lenses of what makes a person male or female, can be a small but right step towards stepping away from one part of cisnormative beliefs. it can make non-binary representation a lot easier to present in media, and it makes topics about non-binary characters a lot easier to understand and talk about since there's less social stigmatism around it.

Deltarune chapter 3 is gonna start by asking you what Kris’ pronouns are and if you choose anything other than they/them it deletes all your save files and uninstalls your game

[image description: a digital comic. In the first panel, Toby Fox (as represented by a small white dog) gestures towards Frisk and says, smiling “Name this character whatever you want!” In the next panel, he winks as he says “Sike! This character was actually their own person the whole time!” In the third panel, a vague person shape holds Frisk, saying “Oh, so their gender is open to interpretation!”

In the fourth panel. Toby looks to the side annoyed, saying “Maybe that was too subtle…” In the fifth panel, he gestures towards Kris and says “This is Kris. They are their own person who is just being controlled by you. Everyone uses they/them for them.” In the sixth panel the vague person shape holds Kris, saying “Oh, so their gender is open to interpretation!”

In the next panel, Toby Fox smiles blankly at the viewer, and the last panel is a close-up of his face with his dead, stressed out eyes. End ID]

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i grew up into something good

( michael kaiser x fem! reader )

♡ a/n —  for my childhood friends to lovers series! ( please note: i read back through the manga and scoured the internet and couldn't find definite ages on kaiser's past- so i may have got it wrong !)

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — michael kaiser x reader, fem! reader, TW! mentions of abuse ( both kaiser and reader ), SPOILERS! for kaiser's past, nickname 'liebe' used once, goes from ages 8 to 19, slight angst?, slight fluff, childhood friends to lovers

♡ synopsis — you were michael kaiser's god given solace, but were you enough to make him stay?

Snowflakes swirled in the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, the cold gnawing at your exposed skin like a starving animal.

The bruises on your arms and legs throbbed, but they weren’t new. Pain had become as familiar to you as breathing, as inevitable as the cycle of being dragged down and getting back up again.

You walked through the slush-covered pavement barefoot, having been thrown out before you could grab your shoes. Your fingers curled into the sleeves of your too-thin sweater, trying to keep the warmth in, but it was no use.

The winter night bit into your bones, and your body trembled from more than just the cold.

And then you saw him.

A boy, barely eight years old, sitting alone on the rusted swings of the abandoned park down the street.

His lip was split, a bruise already darkening along his cheekbone, and his hands were stuffed into the pockets of a jacket too thin to fight off the winter wind.

His breath came in short, shallow puffs, and even from a distance, you could see the glint of unshed tears in his bright blue eyes.

For a long moment, you just stood there, watching. Because you knew.

You knew what he felt. The sting of rejection, the loneliness that pressed against your ribs like a crushing weight.

The pain of being born into a world that decided you were unwanted before you even had a chance to prove otherwise.

And somehow, he knew too.

“…Hey.” His voice cracked from the cold as you stepped closer, his head tilting slightly. His eyes flickered over your bruises, the red marks on your skin, the way you hugged yourself like you were trying to disappear.

Without a word, you sat on the swing next to him. The chains creaked under your weight, a sharp sound in the silence.

He didn’t ask where you came from. You didn’t ask why he was here.

You simply existed together. Two broken children, sitting in the dead of winter, finding warmth in each other’s presence.

That was the first night you met Michael Kaiser.

And from that night on, you were never apart.

At thirteen, the weight of your shared existence became heavier.

You had each other—that was all that mattered. In a world that had discarded you, the two of you had carved out a place where you could just be. Where the bruises didn’t matter, where the cruel words faded into nothing.

But the world was relentless.

You still had to go to school, while Kaiser roamed the streets, making money however he could, playing soccer like his life depended on it—because, in some ways, it did.

He lived without structure, without rules, without an escape plan. His future was a black void, stretching endlessly in every direction, and you were the only light in it.

“Why don’t you just quit?” he asked one afternoon, sitting on the rooftop of an old apartment building where you sometimes hid out together. A soccer ball sat beside him, spinning idly under his fingers. “School’s a waste of time, anyway.”

“I want to go to university, Micha.”

Something about the certainty in your voice made him pause. You had never sounded like that before—so sure, so determined.

He scoffed, leaning back on his hands. “More school? For what?”

You peeled off your blazer, revealing fresh bruises underneath.

He was the only one you ever let see them.

“I want to be a doctor,” you said simply. “To help people when they’re hurt.”

For the first time in his life, Kaiser felt small.

Because you believed in something. Because you had a dream. And as ridiculous as it was, as impossible as it seemed, he wanted to believe in something too.

It was in that moment that Michael Kaiser realized he loved you.

At fourteen, he kissed you for the first time.

It was his birthday.

To his father, it was just another year spent stuck with a child he never wanted.

To Kaiser, it was another step closer to getting away. One more year survived. One more year closer to freedom—or death. He hadn’t decided which yet.

To you, though, it was the day Michael Kaiser was born into this world. And for that, you were thankful.

You found him at the park, the same place where you had first met, holding a single bread roll with a candle stabbed into it.

You had stolen the candle—and maybe the lighter too—but that didn’t matter.

“What’s that for?” Kaiser asked, amused, as you plopped down next to him.

“I couldn’t find any cake,” you admitted sheepishly. “But you have to make a wish on your birthday. That’s how it works.”

Rolling his eyes, he blew out the candle, and you beamed.

“What’d you wish for?” you asked, voice full of childlike wonder.

Kaiser didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, his breath warm against your lips, and kissed you.

It was soft, hesitant, uncertain. The first good thing he had ever been given in his life.

“What was the wish?” you whispered when he pulled away.

He looked at you, eyes burning with something you didn’t yet understand.

“That,” he murmured. “You. For you to be with me forever.”

At fifteen, he left.

Ray Dark came into his life like a promise, like a lifeline, like the devil disguised as salvation. He was everything Kaiser had ever wanted—a ticket out, a future worth something.

“This man is going to change my life,” Kaiser told you, voice filled with something close to hope.

You weren’t dating. Not really. But you had kissed each other more times than you could count, fallen asleep tangled together, breathed the same air as if it was the only thing keeping you alive.

And now, he was leaving.

“What about…” The words died in your throat.

What about me? you wanted to beg for an answer.

“What about what?” he pressed, tilting his head closer.

What about us? your heart screamed.

You swallowed hard. “Never mind.”

He sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Liebe, don’t cry,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ll be back. I’d never leave you.”

He kissed you then—deeper, more meaningful than ever before. And the next morning, he was gone.

You waited. You waited for years.

At nineteen, you saw him again.

Not in person. On a television screen, in the common area of your dorm.

His hair was different—shorter, the ends dyed electric blue. A tattoo curled around his skin like a brand, like a reminder of who he had become.

He wasn’t the boy you knew anymore. He was Michael Kaiser, the star of Bastard München.

You stood frozen, staring, as the commentator sang his praises. The people around you cheered.

Tears slipped down your cheeks before you even realized they had started.

I’ll be back. I’d never leave you.

But he had.

And maybe you couldn’t even blame him.

Because Michael Kaiser had made it out. And he had left you behind in order to save himself.

And somehow, even after all these years—after all the promises and all the distance—you still weren’t sure whether that was something you could ever forgive.

do i dislike kaiser? sort of. is he still one of my favorite characters to write for? hell yeah.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[demonic0angel]

I found this from one of the accs I follow but I just want to know if you can make a small prompt with it :DD

https://www.tumblr.com/cookiesnotd3ad/775458923428904960/could-never-agree-more?source=share

(LMFAO)

Dick's eye had somehow gained a twitch that he could not suppress.

He took a deep breath.

"So you're telling me... that in the time I was gone, Jason got married, Cass somehow gained the favor of a death god, Tim is suddenly polyamorous, and Damian has now adopted ghosts for pets?!?!???"

All of his siblings and not-siblings looked at each other. Then they mumbled some confirmations. Jason was the only one who didn't look ashamed, proudly displaying his gold ring as he said smugly, "Yep."

Tim spoke up then, "I'm not really suddenly polyamorous. Me and Young Justice have been in an open relationship for a few years now."

Nightwing's eye twitched again. Cass took a wary step back from him.

"Does anyone else have something they want to tell me?" He said, his fists clenching tight enough to creak.

One week.

One week!

He had only left Gotham for one week and already, he felt like he was having heart attacks from his siblings' craziness! If this continued, he was pretty sure that his lucious hair was going to go gray!

Why, oh why was he the older sibling?!

Steph raised her hand. "I'm dating the journalist that makes conspiracy theories about us."

Dick stared at her.

"The one who correctly deduced all of our identities except yours because you're not adopted?"

Steph gulped. Then she said, "Well, Jason married the new psychiatrist who works in Arkham!"

"And I'm proud of it, dammit!" Jason cried.

Dick closed his eyes. Then he turned to pluck Damian off of his feet, pulling him close in a hug before he then pointed at the stairs leading away from the Batcave.

"Get out of my sight."

They all wisely scrambled, except Damian, who pouted as he was being used as an emotional support animal.

"Why me?" Dick complained, hugging Damian as he whined. "I didn't do anything! Why do my siblings have to make stupid choices that I have to suffer through? Why do I suddenly have a sister-in-law too?"

Damian made grabby hands at one of the strange, gelatinous creatures on the cave floor and Dick retrieved one for him with a sigh.

As Damian pet the strange, smooth creature, he said, "Well, if it makes you feel better, Cassandra, Drake, and Todd are dating siblings from the same family. And they're all ghost royalty."

And then he added after a moment, "In fact, I believe there is one more from their family who has gained an interest in you after Jason showed him some pictures. Apparently, he used to conquer worlds. He seems to be quite the powerful suitor for your affection, but I shall not approve."

Dick froze in place.

Suddenly, weeks worth of exhaustion, crime fighting, and nuisances upon nuisances, all caused by his beloved bane-of-his-existence family, was broken by the final straw.

"..... Damian, where are my escrima sticks."

"Richard! Cease this! It's a sorry day in hell when I have to be the peaceful one! Richard! Do not grab Todd's guns! Richard!!"

[lily-jaxk]

MC Twin AU - CALEB'S Spitfire [2]

Caleb was weird.

Not weird as in 'I wanna lock you away from the world.' you actually found that very normal and very, very hot. What the said about you meant nothing, there was a reason you picked him out of all the other options.

No, Caleb was acting weird because he was focusing on you. He had apparently asked for your number from MC, which she had gladly given him, and you had woken up to the sight of an unknown number sending you a good morning text.

"Rise and shine spitfire! You gotta get to work soon 🫵"

You had blinked, then pinched your cheek just to make sure you weren't hallucinating. Seeing that it hurt a lot, you were clearly awake.

"Um, Caleb?"

"😉 One and only"

"Well technically there are many other Caleb's in the world ya know"

" :( well the only Caleb who's food you enjoy a lot"

". . . . damm"

"lol why did you do the ...?"

"dramatic effect. anywho how did you get my number?"

"MC gave me. Now! I'll talk to you later 🫵Get ready for work!"

Caleb was weird because on a sunny Friday afternoon, right after your dentist appointment, you found him leaning against your car scrolling on his phone. You had paused, stared at him, then let out a long sigh. It was best to not dwell on how he knew where you were. Normally you would have said MC told him, but you hadn't told her that your appointment was today.

So yeah. Caleb was weird.

As you approached him, he finally looked up and gave you a wide smile that made your heart flutter. "Hey there spitfire!" He greeted, placing his phone in his pocket and straightening up.

You raise a brow and cross your arms over your chest. "Are you here to steal my car?"

"Precisely." He bobbed your nose making you let out a squawk of bafflement. "MC needs to be picked up and I unfortunately have my car in the shop, soo I was wondering if I could use yours?"

You tap your foot on the pavement. "And how did you know where I was?"

Caleb blinks and brings out his phone, turning it around to show you the screen. "You posted it on your Moments."

. . . . Ah. You did. A long sigh leaves your lips and you turn to walk to the driver's seat. "Get in. And in return, you're getting me mochi."

"Roger that!"

Caleb was weird, because he invited you out once to play Kitty Cards together. No MC, no other friends, just you and him.

You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of your cards, and he smiles innocently at you. "You knowww, I can give you some of my cards-"

"I'll bite you!"

"Ohhh kink-"

"Caleb!"

He laughs, purple eyes sparkling with mirth, and your heart flutters, making you duck your head to hide your blush. No, no you couldn't feel anything for him. This was wrong!

You weren't MC. You weren't the girl that helped him in the labs, and you weren't the girl he dedicated his entire existence for.

You were simply. . . . You.

Caleb was weird, because even when you started to try and distance yourself from him, he kept bothering you. Even when you ignored his calls, ran away with an excuse whenever he was with MC, pretended he didn't exist and hid when you saw him in the wild, he still didn't let you go.

Everywhere you went, he knew.

At MC? He knew.

At work? He knew.

Watching movies at home? He sent you reminders to go to bed early.

At work? Somehow food delivery is being sent to your office.

Caleb was weird.

"I'm not her you know." You tell him after months of ignoring him, months of him chasing you, lurking behind you like a shadow. "We might look identical, but I'm not, and will never be her."

Why couldn't he get it through his thick skull! You weren't MC, you were You!

Caleb was weird, because he simply smiled and dragged you into a hug, placing his chin on the top of your head. "Of course you're not MC." He said with ease. "You're my little spitfire, and I couldn't have it any other way."

Your face grew beet red, and your heart pounded loudly in your ears. Caleb was so fucking weird, because he called you his.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[favefandomimagines]

Now That We Don’t Talk - Alternate Ending (j.b)

Summary: now that we do talk…

AN: here is ‘Now That We Don’t Talk’ with its alternate ending!! Spoiler alert: it’s fluffy lol please read the original work before reading this one!! The lead up is exactly the same as the OG, the ending is just different

Now That We Don’t Talk - Original

The cameras loved them.

They were the kind of couple that seemed plucked straight out of a Hollywood script—Joe Burrow, the golden boy of the NFL, and Y/N, a star who shined just as brightly in her own field. Every magazine, every sports network, every gossip blog had something to say about them. America’s sweethearts, they were called. The kind of couple that made headlines for simply existing.

But what the world saw—the perfectly timed red carpet appearances, the viral social media moments, the dazzling courtside dates—was only a fraction of what their relationship really was.

It all started at a charity gala in Los Angeles.

Joe wasn’t the type to be impressed by fame. He wasn’t the guy who got starstruck, wasn’t the one to fawn over celebrities just because they were on the big screen. Football was his life—his focus. His teammates had to practically drag him to the event, insisting that it would be good PR.

Y/N, on the other hand, had been born for nights like this.

She thrived in the glitz and glam, the cameras, the flashing lights. It wasn’t that she was shallow—far from it. But she understood the game. She knew how to command a room, how to make people laugh, how to charm even the most cynical of hearts.

And that included Joe Burrow.

She noticed him before he noticed her. He was leaning against the bar, dressed in a sleek black tux, perfectly put together but somehow completely unaware of just how good he looked. His jaw was sharp, his lips pressed into a small, amused smirk as he listened to one of his teammates ramble about something.

Y/N was intrigued.

Not because he was Joe Burrow, the star quarterback. But because he was the only person in the room who didn’t seem desperate to be seen.

So, naturally, she made it her mission to change that.

"You're either really mysterious or really bored," she said as she slid up next to him at the bar, her voice laced with playful curiosity.

Joe turned his head, startled for a split second, before a small smirk tugged at his lips. He knew who she was, of course. It was impossible not to. She was everywhere—movies, music, magazine covers. She was the kind of famous that made people feel like they knew her, even if they didn’t.

"I'm neither," he said smoothly, taking a sip of his drink. "But that was an interesting introduction."

Y/N grinned, twirling the straw in her cocktail. "Well, you looked like you needed rescuing."

"From what?"

"From the serious case of ‘I don't belong here’ that’s written all over your face."

Joe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You caught me."

It was easy after that.

Too easy.

They talked like they had known each other forever, like they had been waiting for this moment. It didn’t matter that their worlds were different—his ruled by playbooks and stadium lights, hers by movie scripts and flashing cameras. For that night, none of it mattered.

By the time the gala was over, Joe had Y/N’s number saved in his phone under a simple “Trouble”—a joke, but also a warning to himself. Because something about her felt dangerous in the best way.

||

From that night on, they were inseparable.

At first, they tried to be discreet. It wasn’t about hiding—it was about protecting something before the world could ruin it. They wanted to figure out what they were before the headlines did.

But it didn’t take long for the world to catch on.

The first time they were seen together was at a Bengals game in Cincinnati. Y/N had shown up in the stands, wearing his jersey, sitting beside his mom, cheering like she had been a fan forever. The cameras caught her—how could they not? The biggest pop star in the world was at an NFL game, losing her mind every time Joe completed a pass.

The internet went into a frenzy.

That night, Joe texted her: You made my mom’s entire year, you know that?

Y/N: Good. She’s my favorite Burrow.

It was effortless between them.

Joe loved how she made him laugh, how she pushed him out of his comfort zone without ever making him feel like he had to change. Y/N loved how steady he was, how he never let the fame get to his head, how he made her feel safe in a way she never had before.

They traveled the world together. Italy in the summer, where they drank wine on balconies and got caught by paparazzi on a yacht. The south of France in the offseason, where Joe learned (very poorly) how to dance on a rooftop with her.

And through it all, they loved each other fiercely.

||

There were things the cameras never saw.

Like the time Joe showed up at one of her concerts in disguise.

He wasn’t one for big public displays, but he wanted to see her perform without the pressure of being Joe Burrow in the front row. So he threw on a hoodie, a baseball cap, and sunglasses, and stood in the VIP section like a regular fan.

Y/N spotted him from the stage instantly.

The next morning, there was a viral video of her grinning mid-song and blowing a kiss toward the crowd. The internet went wild trying to figure out who she had been looking at.

Joe texted her after: That was for me, right?

Y/N: Nope. Definitely the guy next to you in the Bengals hat.

Joe: Liar.

Or the time she surprised him after a game, waiting in the locker room tunnel when he least expected it.

He had played a rough game—bruises forming beneath his jersey, exhaustion heavy in his bones. But then he saw her standing there, arms wide open, eyes shining with something softer than the spotlight.

“You did amazing,” she whispered against his shoulder.

And just like that, the rest of the world faded away.

||

For a while, it was perfect.

But even the most golden of couples have their breaking points.

As Joe’s season intensified, Y/N’s career soared higher than ever. There was always something—a game he had to focus on, a movie she had to fly out for. Their time together shrank, their conversations turned into quick check-ins rather than deep talks.

The missed calls, the exhaustion, the unspoken hurt—it started building.

There were nights Y/N fell asleep alone, staring at the empty space beside her, wondering if this was what love was supposed to feel like.

There were nights Joe sat in his locker, scrolling through social media, seeing Y/N at events he should have been at but couldn't because football always came first.

They were still in love.

But love wasn’t enough.

And for the first time, they both started to wonder—

What happens when you realize the person you love the most... is the one you’re slowly losing?

||

At first, the differences between them were exciting.

Joe was all about structure—early mornings, strict schedules, a life ruled by game plans and discipline. Y/N was the opposite. She thrived in the unpredictability of her world. Late-night studio sessions, spontaneous flights to Paris, impromptu performances under neon lights.

They were yin and yang.

And for a while, it worked.

Joe loved how she brought color into his life, how she could make even the most ordinary moments feel cinematic. Y/N loved how grounded he was, how he kept her sane in the madness of fame.

But what once felt like balance slowly became friction.

It started small—missed phone calls, text messages left on read, a growing list of "Sorry, I can't make it" and "Wish you were here."

They promised it would be temporary.

"We just have to get through the season."

"We just have to get through filming."

"We’ll make time soon, I swear."

But time never came.

Y/N’s career was exploding—new projects, new opportunities, a world waiting for her. She was everywhere. Award shows, red carpets, magazine covers. When Joe turned on the TV, she was smiling in interviews, dazzling the world like only she could.

But she was never with him.

And he was never with her.

||

The first time it really hurt was the premiere of her new movie.

It was supposed to be a huge night—her first leading role, a moment she had worked for since she was a teenager.

Joe had promised he would be there.

But the night before, his coach called an emergency meeting. A must-win game was coming up, and the team needed to focus.

Y/N, I’m so sorry. I have to stay for practice.

Yeah. I figured.

Soon, I promise.

But soon never happened.

That night, she walked the red carpet alone. Smiled for the cameras. Gave interviews. Pretended she wasn’t aching inside.

And when she got back to her hotel, she turned on her phone to see Joe’s Instagram story—

A picture of him at the Bengals facility, throwing passes under the stadium lights.

She stared at it for a long time.

Then she put her phone face down and went to sleep.

||

The next big fight came after one of Joe’s biggest games.

It was an away game against Kansas City, a prime-time Sunday Night Football matchup. The kind of game that everyone was watching. Joe had played phenomenally—four touchdowns, a game-winning drive in the fourth quarter. The kind of performance that cements a quarterback’s legacy.

Y/N wasn’t there.

She wanted to be. She had planned to be. But a last-minute industry event pulled her away.

Joe called her after the game, still buzzing with adrenaline.

“I saw the highlights!” she said, her voice bright but distant. “You were incredible.”

He exhaled. He wanted her there.

“It would’ve been nice to see you in the stands.”

Y/N bit her lip. “I know. I tried, Joe, I really did. But—”

“There’s always a ‘but.’”

Silence.

The kind of silence that held too much weight, too much unsaid emotion.

Y/N sighed. “What do you want me to say? You miss things too, you know.”

“I know,” Joe said quietly. “And I hate it.”

The next day, there were headlines: Joe Burrow celebrates huge win, girlfriend nowhere to be found.

She tried not to let it sting.

She tried not to notice that he didn’t text her goodnight.

||

It was after an argument—one of those quiet, devastating fights that lingered even after the words stopped.

Y/N had left for an event, and Joe had stayed home.

He sat on the couch, flipping through channels, half-watching some meaningless TV show, when his phone buzzed.

A text from a teammate.

Damn, your girl is everywhere tonight.

Joe frowned, opening Twitter.

And there she was.

Standing next to some famous actor, both of them smiling under the bright lights. Her hand rested on his arm. It was nothing. But at the wrong angle, the wrong moment, it looked like everything.

The next morning, when she came home, she found him sitting at the kitchen counter, staring at his coffee like it held all the answers.

He didn’t look up when he spoke.

“Are you happy?”

Y/N stilled, setting her purse down. “What?”

Joe exhaled, finally meeting her gaze.

“Are you happy?” he repeated. “With me. With...this.”

Her stomach twisted.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A real one.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Because the truth was—she didn’t know.

And Joe? He could see it in her eyes.

Neither of them wanted to say it out loud, but in that moment, they both knew—

The love was still there.

But the timing? The world they lived in?

That night, Y/N climbed into bed beside him, curling into his warmth like she always did.

Joe wrapped an arm around her out of instinct, but something had shifted.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them said, "We'll fix this."

Because for the first time, they weren’t sure if they could.

They just laid there in the dark, both pretending they didn’t feel the weight of what was coming next.

And for the first time in their relationship, the silence wasn’t comfortable.

It was the sound of something breaking.

||

It happened in the offseason.

They had both known it was coming for weeks, maybe even months. The missed calls. The late replies. The exhaustion in their voices when they did talk. Everything that once felt effortless had turned into something they had to work for. And while love was always worth fighting for, neither of them could deny that they were fighting more than they were loving.

But even with all the signs, knowing doesn’t make it easier.

It was supposed to be a night to fix things. Joe had just come back from a much-needed vacation, and Y/N had cleared her schedule for the weekend. They agreed on dinner at a quiet restaurant, away from the flashing lights, away from the outside world.

But from the moment they sat down, the air felt different.

Joe tapped his fingers on the table, his mind somewhere else. Y/N stirred her drink absentmindedly, barely touching her food.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

This wasn’t them.

Y/N sighed, placing her fork down. “Joe…”

He looked up, his blue eyes tired in a way they never used to be.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she whispered.

His jaw tensed, his fingers curling into a fist on the table. He had known this was coming. He had felt it deep in his bones for weeks, but that didn’t mean he was ready to hear it.

“We’re just… not the same anymore,” she continued, her voice careful. “I feel like we’re always missing each other, even when we’re in the same room.”

Joe exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to give up. She wanted to hold onto him, to tell him that they could fix this if they just tried a little harder. But how long could you keep holding onto something that was already slipping through your fingers?

“I don’t want to walk away,” she admitted, tears burning behind her eyes. “But Joe… when was the last time we were really happy?”

Joe swallowed hard, looking away. That question shouldn’t have been so hard to answer.

Y/N reached for his hand across the table, squeezing it gently. The way she always had. But this time, he didn’t squeeze back.

“I love you,” she whispered.

His eyes flickered to hers, something raw and unspoken flashing behind them. He loved her, too. He always would. But love wasn’t enough.

He let out a long breath, nodding slowly.

“I love you, too,” he said. And just like that, it was over.

They didn’t make a scene.

They left the restaurant separately—Joe through the side door, Y/N through the front. The paparazzi were waiting, cameras flashing as they shouted questions she didn’t have the energy to answer.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Joe.

She swallowed, pulling it out to see the text.

Get home safe.

She blinked hard, willing herself not to cry.

Y/N: You too.

She wanted to say more.

Wanted to tell him that she didn’t regret a second of it. That she would always root for him. That he would always be her favorite story, even if they didn’t get a happy ending.

But instead, she tucked her phone away and got into the car, leaving behind the only person who ever made her feel like home.

Joe didn’t go straight home.

He drove around the city for hours, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

His phone buzzed again. A text from Ja’Marr..

You good?

He stared at it for a long time before finally typing back:

No.

That night, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Every part of him ached—but not in the way it did after a brutal game. This was different. This was the kind of pain that sat in your chest and refused to leave.

For the first time in his life, he had lost something he couldn’t win back.

Y/N didn’t sleep that night.

She sat on her couch in a hoodie that still smelled like Joe, knees pulled to her chest, phone clutched in her hand.

She kept expecting a call. A text. Something.

But it never came.

And she didn’t reach out either.

Because deep down, they both knew—there was nothing left to say.

The worst part wasn’t the breakup itself.

It was everything that came after.

It was waking up and realizing there were no more good morning texts waiting on her phone. It was scrolling through Instagram and seeing a picture of Joe at practice, looking focused, looking fine—like she hadn’t just walked away from him.

It was reaching for her phone after a bad day, only to remember that he wasn’t hers to call anymore.

For Joe, it was even worse.

Football had always been his escape. The one thing that never let him down. But even in the middle of practice, between drills and film sessions, his mind would drift to her.

He’d hear a song playing in the locker room—one of hers—and his stomach would tighten.

He’d catch himself reaching for his phone, tempted to text her, only to stop at the last second.

He’d drive past a place they used to go, and suddenly, it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Love doesn’t just disappear overnight.

It lingers.

It haunts you.

And no matter how much they tried to move on, there were still nights when they both lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if they had made the biggest mistake of their lives.

But they never reached out.

Because they both knew—

It would hurt too much to talk.

||

Joe didn’t think about her.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Training camp started, and he threw himself into football harder than ever. Early mornings, late nights, extra drills—anything to keep his mind busy. The media praised his focus. Locked in. Unshakable. Ready for the season of his life.

What they didn’t see was the way his thumb hovered over her contact some nights.

Or how he still wore the bracelet she gave him—a simple leather band, hidden beneath his wrist tape.

Or how, when the team played in Los Angeles, he caught himself looking for her in the crowd, even though he knew she wouldn’t be there.

Y/N, on the other hand, convinced herself she was free.

She threw herself into work, into new projects. New music, new opportunities, new people. She let herself be photographed at industry events, wearing the kind of radiant, effortless smiles that made it look like she had never been in love with Joe Burrow.

But behind closed doors?

She still hesitated before playing his highlights when ESPN aired them.

She still wore his oversized hoodie when she was home alone.

And sometimes, when the world was quiet, she’d catch herself thinking about calling him. Just to hear his voice. Just to see if he was okay.

But they didn’t talk.

Not when she was nominated for a Golden Globe.

Not when Joe led the Bengals to another playoff win.

Not when they were in the same city, just blocks apart, but worlds away.

It happened at a charity gala in New York.

Y/N hadn’t planned on going, but her team convinced her. A good PR move. A chance to show the world she had moved on.

She had spent the night mingling, smiling, doing what she did best—commanding the room.

And then, she felt it. A shift in the air. Like someone was watching her.

She turned her head, and there he was.

Joe Burrow, across the room, standing near the bar, his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey.

Her breath caught in her throat. He looked… different. The same, but different.

The suit was sharp, the same cool, composed expression on his face. But there was something in his eyes—something softer.

For a moment, it was like time folded in on itself.

Every late-night conversation. Every whispered “I love you.” Every fight, every apology, every moment that had made them them.

Joe’s grip on his glass tightened.

Their eyes met, held. And then—just like that—he looked away.

He turned, said something to the person beside him, took a sip of his drink.

Like she wasn’t even there. Y/N felt something crack inside her chest.

She knew this was how it was supposed to be.

They weren’t together anymore.

They didn’t owe each other anything.

But wasn’t it strange?

That after everything, they were just two people in the same room, pretending they had never been anything more?

She didn’t look at him again for the rest of the night.

And when she got home, she locked herself in her hotel bathroom and cried for the first time in months.

The headlines started soon after.

Joe Burrow Spotted in NYC, No Y/N in Sight—Are They Finally Moving On?

Y/N Looking Radiant at Charity Event Amidst Joe Burrow Breakup Rumors

Has Joe Found a New Leading Lady? NFL Star Seen with Mystery Woman.

Y/N didn’t click on the articles.

She didn’t let herself wonder if Joe had really moved on.

She focused on her work.

She poured herself into writing new music.

And for the first time in months, she felt something close to herself again.

Until one night, when she found herself sitting at her piano, fingers hovering over the keys, a melody forming before she even realized what it was.

The words spilled out before she could stop them.

“…Did you get anxious though, On the way home?, I guess I'll never, ever know, Now that we don't talk.”

“You grew your hair long, you got new icons… and from the outside, it looks like you’re trying lives on.”

She pressed her lips together, trying not to cry.

Even when they weren’t speaking, Joe was still in everything.

Joe saw the song before he heard it.

He was sitting in the Bengals’ film room, scrolling through his phone during a break when he saw the trending topic.

Y/N Y/L/N’s New Song: Is It About Joe Burrow?

His stomach tightened.

He should have ignored it.

But instead, he put his AirPods in and hit play.

The first notes hit, soft and aching, and suddenly, he wasn’t in the locker room anymore.

He was back in the car with her, driving down the coast with the windows down.

He was in their hotel room in Italy, tracing circles on her skin while she hummed the melody to a song she hadn’t written yet.

He was on the phone with her at 2 AM, whispering ‘I love you’ before hanging up.

And then he heard the lyrics.

You grew your hair long.

You got new icons.

And from the outside, it looks like you’re trying lives on.

Joe exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face.

It was about him.

It was always about him.

And wasn’t that the cruelest part?

That even after all this time, after all the nights they had spent apart, after all the silence—

They were still haunting each other.

||

The night of NFL Honors should have been a celebration.

Joe had spent the evening shaking hands, giving interviews, and sitting through speeches about some of the greatest moments in football. People congratulated him, smiled at him, told him how great he was.

But he felt empty.

Because the one person he wanted to share it with—wasn’t there.

He had spent months pretending he had moved on, convincing himself that throwing himself into football would make him forget. But no matter how many games he won, how many records he broke, none of it mattered if he couldn’t share it with her.

Y/N.

Joe let out a breath as he sat on the hotel bed, running a hand through his hair. His phone was in his palm, the screen illuminated with her name.

Y/N.

He had never deleted her contact. Never even considered it.

And before he could think better of it, before he could talk himself out of it, he hit call.

It rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then it went to voicemail.

Joe swallowed hard, waiting for the beep.

Then—

"Hey."

His voice was rougher than he expected. He cleared his throat and continued.

"I don’t know why I’m doing this," he admitted, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I guess I just… I needed to say this. Even if you never hear it."

He exhaled, his free hand gripping his knee.

"I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. For not prioritizing us, for all the times I made you feel like you were on the outside looking in. I know you’d tell me it’s not all my fault, and maybe you’re right. But I played a big part in it. And I hate that."

His voice dropped slightly.

"I still love you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you, because you were it for me. The one who made all the bad stuff feel like a small footnote compared to the good. And maybe I never said it enough, maybe I never showed it enough, but… it’s always been you."

Joe exhaled, his jaw tightening.

"And I know I don’t deserve anything from you—not after New York. I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve tried. But I knew if I came up to you, if I even looked at you too long, I wouldn’t have been able to hold it together."

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

"I’m not asking for anything. I just… I needed you to hear this. I needed you to know all the things I never got to say that night at the restaurant."

He paused, then softly—

"That’s it, I guess. Take care, Y/N."

And then, before he could second-guess himself, he hung up.

He set his phone down beside him, staring blankly at the muted TV playing some sitcom he wasn’t even paying attention to.

Now, all he could do was wait.

Joe had just about given up when his phone vibrated on the nightstand.

He sat up quickly, his heart hammering.

Y/N.

He grabbed the phone so fast he nearly dropped it before answering.

There was silence for a beat. Then—

"Hey."

Her voice was soft, hesitant.

Joe swallowed. "Hey."

She let out a small breath. "I got your voicemail."

Joe nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. "Yeah. I, uh… I wasn’t expecting you to call."

Y/N sighed. "I wasn’t expecting to, either. But… I wanted to."

Joe ran a hand over his face, his chest feeling too full and too empty all at once.

"Y/N, I meant everything I said," he told her. "All of it."

"I know," she whispered. "And… I’m sorry, too. For everything I did. I wasn’t perfect, Joe. I made mistakes, too."

He closed his eyes, letting that settle.

She hesitated before adding, "I guess I’m just surprised you called."

Joe let out a quiet chuckle. "Yeah. Me too. But I finally had the courage, and I just… I had to do it."

There was a pause.

Joe swallowed hard.

"I love you," he murmured. "And I’m sorry."

Silence.

Then, barely above a whisper—

"I love you, too."

And just like that, the weight he had been carrying for months finally lifted.

They weren’t fixed. Not yet.

But they weren’t over, either.

And that was enough.

||

It felt like a dream.

Joe stood in the middle of the field, his jersey stained with sweat, his heart still pounding from the final whistle.

The Bengals had done it.

Super Bowl champions.

Confetti rained down, the crowd roared, and cameras flashed as he stood there, taking it all in.

Then—

She was there.

Y/N.

She had been in the stands, watching, waiting.

And the moment she reached him, he didn’t hesitate.

Joe wrapped his arms around her, lifting her slightly off the ground as she let out a breathless laugh.

"You did it!" she said against his shoulder.

Joe pulled back, looking down at her, his eyes shining with something more than just victory.

"We did it," he corrected, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She smiled up at him, the confetti catching in her hair, the stadium lights making her eyes sparkle.

Joe cupped her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek.

"I love you," he said, the words feeling even more right than they did a year ago.

Y/N grinned. "I love you, too, Burrow."

Then, in the middle of the biggest moment of his career, in front of millions of people watching—Joe kissed her.

And suddenly, the championship ring, the MVP trophy, the confetti—none of it mattered as much as this.

As much as her.

Because, in the end—she was the biggest win of his life.

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER TEN

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash, competition??

playlist: spotify

You were going to die.

Like, actually, literally, cease to exist because your heart was beating so violently that it was probably about to explode, and your lungs had decided they no longer wanted to participate in the act of breathing.

The girls were staring at you. Correction: three-fourths of the girls were staring at you. Ji-Yeong was standing on the couch, one foot on the armrest, holding a half-empty iced coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, looking like she was about to deliver a TED Talk.

"You guys," she said, eyes wide, voice hushed. "I need everyone to remain calm."

Se-Mi was already grinning, vibrating with suppressed excitement. "Oh, absolutely not."

No-Eul, who was seated cross-legged on the floor, barely looked up from her book. "Just say it, Ji. Before you combust."

Ji-Yeong took a deep breath, dramatically swiped to refresh the Twitter feed on her phone, and then—

"WE GOT NOMINATED FOR A GRAMMY!"

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

Se-Mi shrieked, launching herself across the couch to grab Ji-Yeong’s phone. No-Eul blinked once, twice, and then set her book down with an exhale like she was finally accepting reality.

Sae-Byeok, who had been leaning against the counter, arms crossed in her usual unimpressed stance, went still.

You? You just stood there, gripping your clipboard like it was the last tether to reality, trying to process the words that had just been spoken into existence.

"Wait. Wait. Wait." You snapped out of your trance, reaching for the phone that Se-Mi was now aggressively shaking in front of your face. "Are you serious?"

Ji-Yeong let out a borderline manic laugh, pointing at the screen. "Does this LOOK like I’m joking?! We just got nominated for Best Rock Album and Best Rock Performance for ‘ROCKSTAR.’"

Se-Mi was already pacing, hands on her head. "Holy shit. Holy shit. We’re actually going to the Grammys?"

Ji-Yeong dramatically flung herself onto the couch, arms outstretched. "We’re actually going to the Grammys."

No-Eul, who had been quietly typing on her phone, finally lifted her gaze. "The official Recording Academy account just posted the list." She turned her screen toward you. "It’s real."

Your brain short-circuited.

Because this? This wasn’t just big. This was huge. This was career-defining.

This was the moment you had dreamed of for them.

Sae-Byeok, still eerily silent, finally moved. She walked over to Ji-Yeong’s abandoned coffee on the table, picked it up, and took a long sip.

"Guess we need to buy dresses," she said, completely deadpan.

Se-Mi screamed.

No-Eul actually laughed. Ji-Yeong started yelling something about how she was going to fight Harry Styles for best-dressed on the red carpet.

And you?

You just smiled, heart pounding, because somehow—someway—this was only just the beginning.

A little while after the excitement died down to a normal level, the girls (as in Ji-yeong and Se-mi) decided that it would be a good idea to start shopping.

And the boutique was insane.

Racks of designer gowns stretched wall-to-wall, the air smelled like expensive perfume and wealth, and Se-Mi was already trying on sunglasses that she absolutely did not need.

"We are literally shopping for the Grammys," Ji-Yeong announced dramatically, twirling in front of a mirror. "Do you understand how unhinged that is?"

Se-Mi, now wearing a pair of oversized Gucci shades, nodded solemnly. "I think I blacked out the second we walked in here."

No-Eul was flipping through a rack of sleek suits, completely unfazed. "Try not to pass out before we actually get to the red carpet."

You chuckled, trailing your fingers along the fabric of an elegant dress before moving toward the accessories section, letting the others lose themselves in their respective fashion meltdowns.

And that’s when you saw them.

A pair of heels—sleek, timeless, perfect. They weren’t too flashy, just the right mix of elegance and edge, and something about them just called to you.

You picked one up, checking the size.

Too small.

You frowned, scanning the display, but every single one was either too big or too small.

Figures.

With a sigh, you set the shoe back down and turned away, pushing it from your mind. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

But No-Eul had seen.

She had been flipping through a rack of blazers when she caught the way your face fell—the tiny frown, the way your fingers lingered on the shoe before you walked away.

At first, she assumed it was the price. This place was ridiculously expensive, after all. But when she subtly checked the tag, she realized—

It wasn’t the price.

It was the size.

No-Eul, being the quiet observer that she was, didn’t say anything. She just turned on her heel, scanned the boutique, and sought out the store owner like it was a mission.

"Do you have these in another size?" she asked, holding up the shoe. "This size, specifically?"

The boutique owner, a well-dressed woman with an expert eye, nodded. "Let me check in the back."

Minutes later, No-Eul had them. The perfect pair. The right size.

She paid for them without hesitation, taking the sleek designer bag and tucking it behind the counter for later. No grand gestures, no need for attention—just a quiet, simple act of kindness.

Sae-Byeok had seen the whole thing.

She had been pretending to browse scarves (which she did not need) when she caught No-Eul’s little mission. The subtle way she checked the price, the quick decision to buy them, the way she didn’t even tell you.

And it annoyed her.

Not because she didn’t want you to have the shoes—no, that was actually kind of sweet.

But because why hadn’t she thought of doing something first?

Sae-Byeok had spent so much time watching you—watching you be there for them, watching you take care of everything, watching you never ask for anything in return.

And now No-Eul was out here being thoughtful and sneaky, and Sae-Byeok was just standing there like an idiot.

Unacceptable.

So, naturally, she decided that if No-Eul got the shoes—she was going to find you the perfect dress.

"Hey." She appeared beside you, hands in her pockets, her usual unreadable expression in place.

You blinked up at her. "Hey?"

"You found a dress yet?"

You sighed, gesturing at the endless racks. "I have no idea what I’m doing. This is, like, next-level fashion, and I am but a mere mortal."

Sae-Byeok smirked. "Come on. Let’s find something."

And just like that, she took over.

Before you knew it, Ji-Yeong and Se-Mi had joined the search, the three of them pulling dresses from racks like it was their sole purpose in life.

"This one," Ji-Yeong said, holding up something dramatic and covered in sequins.

"No," Sae-Byeok and Se-Mi said in unison.

Se-Mi held up a sleek, elegant gown with a thigh-high slit. "This is hot."

Sae-Byeok gave her a look. "She needs classy, not ‘I’m about to murder my rich husband for his inheritance.’"

Ji-Yeong gasped. "That’s a great aesthetic, though."

You just stood there, watching them bicker, warmth blooming in your chest.

Because, for the first time in a long time, they weren’t just dragging you along for the ride.

They were taking care of you.

And for once—you let them.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25@monroesturnns @laurenkens @yenyu1s @idontliketoread2137 @bitchybananaflower @lyuuw

[luvfae]

I have a request for Thanos x Fem

Reader is the toxic red flag and ofc thanos is cause his thanos but reader is like 10 times worse and everyone can see it but him since his whipped- but then again his a shit human to.

Can be outside of games or in games up to you..

He low-key follows her around like a dog, and Nam gyu tries to help him see but thanos is a dumbass, addict and just wants HER so bad. No matter how bad she acts. (Not like his a saint 😭)

BLINDED

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: toxic situationship, swearing, mention of drugs

Thanos never understood when people told him he was being used. It didn’t compute. He had his own demons, his own issues, but when it came to you—there was no question in his mind. You were the only thing that made him feel anything, even if it was pain, even if it was constant chaos.

You were a toxic fucking mess, and everyone saw it. Everyone knew it. Hell, even Nam-Gyu, who didn’t care about much, could see you were playing him. But Thanos? He was blind to it. He couldn’t help but be obsessed with you. It was like his addiction, like the drugs he had been fighting off for years—except this time, you were the high. And it was getting worse.

You treated him like shit, and he loved it. Every time you tossed him aside, he came back crawling. Every insult, every time you pushed him away, it only fueled him more. He thought you were different. He thought you could be his, even if everyone else saw you as a trainwreck waiting to happen.

You didn’t need to try hard. You knew how to manipulate him with a smile, with a glance. You had him on a leash, even if you never fully acknowledged it. Every time you told him to leave you alone, every time you screamed at him, called him names, it was like a twisted form of foreplay. And somehow, he didn’t care.

When you looked at him, even if it was with disdain or contempt, it felt like validation. You could tell him he was worthless, make fun of his fucked-up past, but the way you said it, the way you touched him after, made it seem like you didn’t really mean it. At least, that’s what he told himself.

He’d follow you around like a lost puppy, watching from the shadows, waiting for a chance to make you see him the way he saw you—perfect, special, a bit broken, but just the way he liked it. If he could just prove his worth, maybe you’d stop treating him like trash.

You’d go out, meet guys, flirt openly in front of him, knowing it would drive him crazy, and he’d just stand there, swallowing his jealousy. He had no right to say anything, not after the way he had treated women in the past. You’d laugh in his face, brush him off, pretend he didn’t exist—but when you needed something, when you were feeling low, when you wanted attention, he was there. Always.

One night, after a particularly harsh encounter at a bar, you turned to him with that twisted little smirk on your face. “You know, I think you’re the only guy I know who doesn’t know when to quit,” you said, taking a drag from your cigarette. “God, you’re so pathetic.”

And yet, he loved it. The way you tested his patience, how you broke him down and built him up. It was sick. And he loved every minute of it. You were the high he couldn’t shake.

Meanwhile, Nam-Gyu watched this all unfold, and he couldn’t help but get frustrated with his friend. He had been with Thanos long enough to know that this wasn’t just some casual fling—this was a fucking mess. But Thanos, true to form, was too stubborn, too wrapped up in his feelings for you, to even see it.

One night, after watching Thanos trail after you at a club, following you from across the room like some lovesick dog, Nam-Gyu couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer.

“You need to fucking wake up,” he snapped, grabbing Thanos by the arm and pulling him aside. “You can’t seriously be this fucking blind.”

Thanos just looked at him, confused, his expression so naive that it pissed Nam-Gyu off even more. “What the hell are you talking about?” Thanos muttered.

Nam-Gyu took a breath, trying to rein in his frustration. “You’re letting her walk all over you, man. And I don’t even understand how. She treats you like shit. You’re just another toy for her.”

Thanos shot him a defensive look. “You don’t get it, okay? She’s… different. She needs me.”

“No, Thanos,” Nam-Gyu hissed, staring him dead in the eye. “She doesn’t need you. She fucking uses you. You’re just a fucking idiot for thinking she’ll ever see you as anything more than a lapdog.”

Thanos didn’t respond right away. The words stung, but he was too far gone to process them properly. He shook his head. “She’s not like that. I know she’s fucked up, but I can fix her.”

“You can’t fix her,” Nam-Gyu snapped. “You’re not her fucking savior. You’re just a pawn in her game. She’ll leave you behind the minute she finds someone new to fuck around with. Wake the hell up.”

Thanos clenched his fists, his jaw grinding. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t care. He wasn’t going to lose you, no matter how badly you treated him. “I’ll take my chances,” he muttered, brushing past Nam-Gyu. “I’m not giving up on her.”

Nam-Gyu watched him go, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He couldn’t help but feel like a broken record, repeating himself over and over. But nothing ever got through to Thanos. Not when it came to you.

The next few weeks were just more of the same. Thanos kept following you around like a ghost, watching you from the shadows, hoping that if he just tried hard enough, you’d finally see him for what he wanted to be to you. He’d do anything for you. He’d put up with every insult, every moment of neglect, because somehow, in his messed-up mind, it was worth it.

Meanwhile, you had no problem letting him chase you. He was just another way to get attention, to have someone at your beck and call. When you wanted something—money, comfort, or just someone to fight your battles—you knew exactly who to call.

But when you didn’t need him? When you were out having fun with someone else? He was nothing but a ghost, a background character in your life that you didn’t give a second thought.

Still, no matter how bad you treated him, no matter how many times you pushed him away, Thanos stayed. He didn’t see it, but you had him wrapped around your finger—and you always would. You were the poison, and he was addicted. And no matter how many times Nam-Gyu tried to tell him, Thanos couldn’t break free. He didn’t want to.

[princesscolumbia]

Just a reminder; we could have started living in the post-scarcity society of Star Trek years ago now. You know, money has no value because we all treat people regardless of circumstance or features as though they're sentient beings experiencing a mortal experience? Where healthcare is a basic thing that's just provided to people because they've earned it by being people and alive and existing? Where food isn't metered because we not only have plenty of it (which we already do) but because hoarding a basic resource is the human failing that rightly deserves to be scorned and mocked? Where we just let people have basic shelter because we refuse to buy into the Malthusian lie that we're somehow disadvantaged by simply giving one of our fellow people-in-this-timeline basic shelter? Where we're only required to be our own best selves rather than the slave class to the wealthy? Where it's not seen as a moral failing to not have a specialty in acquiring fiat currency?

We could have had all that, but nope. Had to vote for racists and their policies because some people don't like seeing people with more melanin in their skin. Had to vote for the fascists because they promised you they'd get the trains running on time lower the price of eggs and, look at that, the price of eggs went up...and everyone's freedoms were put on the chopping block. (And the trains never were made to run on time, no matter what the fascist propaganda claimed.)

I happen to know a little more about what's going on with Nyssa than the average Tumblrista because we share a paramour, though we don't know each other personally. I know that part of the reason she's constantly in crisis is because she's never able to escape the crisis. We live in a world where Shit Happens and the worse your economic condition the more likely that Shit is going to Happen on a downhill where it keeps gathering shit as it rolls. She's also hamstrung by a culture that says that if you're not constantly able to buy a yacht at any given time then you, personally have offended God, every angel, all of your fellow humans, and even the demons of hell are offended. She's trying, and by goddess she's managing to keep going every day even when she's being hit from multiple angles.

And Musk is being handed the checkbook to the US Government and given a mandate from the 57% of the country that's either a Nazi or a Nazi sympathizer (but then I repeat myself) that it's 100% okay to set things up for people like Nyssa (and me, I'm only a paycheck or two away from being in the same level of crisis as Nyssa, let's be honest) are killed through casual disregard.

The Muskrat and his Traitor-tots have been given carte blanch to simply kill as many people as possible who are infirm, weak, or simply experiencing financial hardship because 57% of the population said they were okay with it. They'd better hurry up and die, after all, so the surplus population is appropriately reduced.

Give help to Nyssa if you can, please, if for no other reason that her continued survival against everything being rallied against her pisses off the Nazis that surround us.

Hey guys Nyssa's low on food again so it would mean a lot if you could boost and help her out. She needs $290

[panlight]

speaking of Bella centric, I personally never understood the justification when defending the writing in BD that the reason the Cullen's seem so chill now with their existence is because Bella being so happy and all "I was born to be a vampire wheee!! :D" is what made them rethink their view on their lives or whatever. ESPECIALLY with Edward and Rosalie. Especially x2 with Rosalie.

It's just doesnt make sense when i look at it outside the Bella bubble. Carlisle kinda made do with himself long time ago, and so did Esme. Emmett is pretty much fine with it. Jasper and Alice are the most "vampire" among them, so they dont really feel bad about missing their humanity and whatnot. To say that it took Bella being high off her overwhelming ecstasy in this new life or whatever she said in one of the chapters (i might be misremembering LOL) to get everyone to be all "see, being a vampire isn't so bad!" screams Main Character Energy.

and it doesn't really resolve Edward's issues with them being soulless? Like if you REALLY want to make a reach and say that he saw that Bella was happy being a vampire to convince him, he has family members who he's known for longer have fun despite their vampirism (see: Emmet). And even on a moral issue, which he's looking at it from, it's as if his concern for Rutabaga and her preference for human blood and having a vampiric diet and lifestyle is now a nonissue SOMEHOW??

As for Rosalie, wasnt one of her main issues not being able to have babies, not being able to see them grow and having grandkids? imo I call bullshit that she's fine with just being aunt to Bella and Edwards kid. it's still not her own kid, said "kid" is growing too fast so she's not able to have a proper mother experience with her anyway. also does smeyer expect me to believe that Rosalie is just happy now settling for crumbs from the brother she butts heads with the most and his girlfriend who was so dismissive of her pain of having no kids? please... 🙄

OMG, yes, this.

The idea that people who have lived as vampires for decades and even CENTURIES in some cases, should instantly reevaluate their feelings about it because one (1) girl who has been a vampire for literally 3.5 months is having a Good Time will never make sense to me.

Of course she's happy??? She knew what she was getting into, she wakes up in a mansion with the man she loves and his supportive family, she gets to keep Jacob and Charlie, she has a daughter and cool cars and nice clothes and a fairytale cottage. She also hasn't been a vampire long enough to experience the ennui of watching the world grow and change while you stay stagnant, she hasn't watched everyone form her youth grow old and die yet.

No one else had anything CLOSE to that experience. PLUS they all HAVE lived long enough to experience being "frozen, never moving forward." Carlisle can go visit London if he wants, but it's not the London he knew anymore.

And yeah, the souls thing is totally unresolved. I mean I think the idea is supposed to be that Edward now thinks he has a soul because how could a soulless monster have created anything so wonderful as Renesmee? And like, I guess. But Esme's open, loving heart wasn't enough to convince him vampires might still have souls? Carlisle's centuries of working as a doctor wasn't enough? This blood-drinking baby is? Renesmee herself kills things and drinks blood and prefers human blood and will age only for 7 years until she, too, becomes "frozen, never moving forward" and no one has a problem with that? Edward and Rosalie are cool with that? Carlisle, who still wonders if turning the others--who were all dying--was the right thing to do or was dooming them, isn't bothered that Nessie is basically 'doomed' from birth? It really does feel like that since Bella is like "phew! I'll get to have her forever!" about it, everyone else has to feel that way, too. By all means love the kid and be happy she's not going to age up to an old woman in 15 years and die, but you can still be concerned about her quality of life.

re: Rosalie, I agree, I don't believe she's going to be content being aunt to this kid, who isn't even really a kid. She skips all the baby milestones and basically doesn't even have much of a childhood. She just taught herself to talk and read and walk and dance all within 2 months. And Rosalie's thing wasn't "I like babies" it was "I want to be a MOTHER." Those are two different things. Bella continually asserts her place as the Mother, Renesmee recognizes her as the Mother, wanting her upon their first meeting even though other people (like Rose) had been caring for her for two days. Rosalie gets to brush her hair and feed her human blood from a bottle and I just don't think that's going to lead to lasting happiness.

I mean if Bella's still blissfully happy in 50 years THEN the Cullens can reasonably take a hard look at themselves and their views of vampirism but she's literally in the honeymoon stage now and her experience was basically as ideal as possible. She picked up her life where she left off; everyone else had to start over.

[cheeeeseburger]

What I used to call you

Sidney Crosby x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Sidney Crosby in Montreal. Playing where his favourite team as a kid plays. That's it. That's the whole inspiration behind this. English isn't my first language, apologies for the mistakes! Enjoy!

A faint halo lights up the whole crowded bar. A girl in a short dress is dancing, and Sidney wonders why no one else is blinded by the sun wearing high heels. There’s a faint buzz in his head from the beers he’s had, but nothing could make him turn away.

The girl looks like she could explode from happiness. She throws her head back in laughter, then illuminates the room once more with a smile. She’s definitely the sun incarnated, because Sid can’t help but gravitate towards her.

Then he sees the girl jump into the arms of another man, and he remembers. He remembers everything.

You’re not his anymore. You haven’t been his in a very, very long time. Well, officially. In Sid’s mind, you’ll always be his girl, but he knows that’s just the jealousy talking. He takes a sip of his beer, and the condensation dripping helps him cool off a little.

Deep down, he knows that jealousy or anger are not the leading emotions in this situation. It hurts less to pretend they are.

Sadness is taking over him in waves, and he wishes he would choke on it, just to bring him back to reality. Somewhere far away, someone is screaming his name, but he doesn’t know who, and he doesn't care to find out. Because you’ve just noticed him.

If this was a movie and he was the director, you would slam your drink on the table and give your purse to your friend then throw yourself into his arms. You two would hug for a few seconds, then have a staring contest. The whole room would disappear. Sidney would give you a chaste kiss, which you would then deepen. Finally, after a few minutes or hours, he would manage to say: “Want to come to my place?” The sex would be phenomenal. He’d have his hand on your thigh the whole drive, his fingers slowly pulling the seam of your dress up. He wouldn’t even be on park yet that your seatbelt would be unfasten, your lips on his neck. Sidney would pull you up and make you straddle him while praising your whole existence. In a frenzy, you would manage to get inside and make your way over to his bedroom, where you would be reunited with the familiar sheets, the blanket you bought him, the mirror you used to fuck in front of. Sidney would worship you all night long and keep you forever. Everything would go back to what it was.

Except that’s not what happens. Instead, you try to hide your shock with a quick sip of your drink, but you can’t quite manage it. Instead, you give Sid a shy wave, but make no move to get closer to him. You smile, and Sid’s heart drop in his chest, because he knows your smiles, and this the friendly one. It’s not the “I love you so much” smile or the “You turn me on so much right now” smile that you used to rock around him. The music is loud, but Sidney hears your friend trying to gain your attention back, but your eyes never leave his. Slowly, your smile fades. A whole love story happens during that stare. It’s full of memories and words you both wished you hadn’t said and some you should’ve said more. There’s a glimpse of that time when you surprised him at his game, or when he sent you a long love letter, but there’s also flashes of endless phone calls filled with tears when the distance was unbearable.

Sidney wants to fill the gap between your two bodies, but this is not what neither of you need right now. He thinks he sees a few tears in the corner of your eyes, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't close to choking up, and only a few seconds have passed.

Somehow, he manages to be strong for you and gives you a small smile. You smile through the tears and laugh a little while wiping your misty eyes. A thousand words have been exchanged in an instant. That scene in La La Land? Yeah, that’s what it feels like.

“Want another drink, sunshine?” A man puts his arms over your waist and instead of pushing him away like Sid expects, you lean into his touch. Just like that, he has lost all your attention. Your eyes are now full of adoration, but for another man.

Sunshine. That’s what he always used to called you. He used to joke that you couldn’t come too close to the ice, or else it would melt. His vocabulary was made up of puns all related to you being hot or illuminating.

From this whole encounter, that’s what hurts the most. He should be the one using your special nickname, the one to snake his arms around you, the one to give your ass a little squeeze and buying you all the drinks you want.

It seems like you’ve built a whole life for yourself after your relationship with Sidney, while for him, there’s only a before you, or a during you, but never an after.

The man kisses the top of your head and leads you towards the bar. At least, you turn back to look at Sidney, and for a millisecond, your connexion from earlier is back. Your body is getting away from him, but your eyes tell a whole other message.

Finally, you two share one last smile, and somehow, Sidney knows it’s the last he’ll be seeing from you in a while. There may be a coffee date in the future, after you encounter each other by chance in a mall or restaurant, when you only have enough time to say hello but not to catch up, but this will only happen in a couple of years.

Sidney follows your silhouette with his gaze until he can’t tell which shadow is yours and pays his tab. He drives back to his place, alone, and everything feels too dark, too lonely. He makes a mental note to buy vitamin D and book a vacation somewhere warm when he can.

He’ll have to get his sunshine somewhere else, one way or another.

[macsimagines]

Yandere!Mikey W/ BabyTrapped!S/O

MINORS DNI WARNINGS: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, PHYSICAL VIOLENCE, BABY TRAPPING

MANJIRO (MIKEY) SANO

He swears up and down you're an ungrateful bitch. At one point, he'd never say that to your face but as his world kept getting colder and darker Manjiro had become a more aggressive and cruel version of his former self.

God forbid he let you go and end this torment for the both of you. But misery loves company and he likes to think he loves making you miserable. The truth that you're too hurt to see and he's too in denial to accept is that he loves you too much to let you go. Mikey needs you to save him from himself and all you want is for somebody to save you from him.

So now you're trapped. He keeps you in a nice apartment with everything you need or want, not like that will keep you from feeling cooped up and trapped.

The isolation isn't even the worst part. Its his bipolar mood swings. He goes from pretending you don't exist to venting all his anger out on you. Whether that's through sex, insults, intimidation or on the very rare occasion violence, always varies.

That all changed when he found out you were pregnant. Suddenly he's back to being soft and gentle with you. Mikey had turned into some kind of unfeeling and abusive monster then somehow went back to being normal? No he was... so much more compassionate.

Rubbing soft circles into your muscles like he hadn't left bruises on that very same skin only a few months prior. He speaks with such tender care and love like he didn't used to spit how worthless you are. He looks at you like you're the answer to the universe like you're the most precious thing on the planet. Like you could break him.

It makes sense then that the complete 180 had nothing to do with you and everything to do with your baby. The one you didn't even get to decide to have. You honestly aren't even sure if you love it or not.

The sad thing is that the only feelings of affection you have for the growing life inside of you is actually just lingering emotions that this new version of Mikey is bringing up.

A sick ugly part of you believes that maybe this means there's hope for you two yet. That you could use this baby as a chance to pull Mikey out of his insanity. Like you could have a normal life and family together.

The logical part of you tells you that you're sick and demented if you honestly think love and care can fix what's been broken. Its like you're making excuses for a version of him that's been dead a long time.

His criminal empire is too huge for him to back away from, and you know that Mikey will become even more unhinged if his precious child is ever put in danger.

But he's been so careful with you. Attentive to your needs and comforts and just... relaxed when caring for you during your pregnancy. Like it's what he's meant to do.

Maybe its because he's soo sidetracked that he forgets to secure locks. That's why when you get up to go to the bathroom and find the door open that you're gunning for freedom.

You make it one waddled sprint to the door and feel your feet abruptly stop by the foot hold. Mikey's big and child like eyes enter your mind and you find yourself frozen.

Every terrible thing he's done or said runs through your head all at once. "I didn't mean to." "I won't ever hurt you again." "Quit actin' like you're in pain, Y/N. I barely even touched you." "You're fucking worthless." "You mean the world to me." "I could replace you in a heartbeat." "I can't live without you." "You'd die without me." "I love you."

You should leave. But you can't. You can't find it in yourself to leave all these demons behind. One in particular needs you. Loves you. How could you ever be so selfish as to throw that all away? Whose going to love him when you're gone?

He finds you like that at dawn. When its too cold in the bed and his hands aren't holding your belly. His baby. Mikey is out of breath when he catches you just standing there at the threshold. You look how he feels. Ice-cold.

How long have you just been standing there? For one ugly second he thinks of breaking your legs. Snapping the bone in his hands and choking you when you try to scream. But then his eyes travel to your belly and he bites back those dark urges.

Mikey needs you. He loves you. Both of you. He won't hurt you. Not anymore.

He's gently guiding you back inside wrapping his shaking arms around you and resting an unsteady palm to your stomach. Like physically feeling the bump there will bring calm to his beating heart. He hates the shell shocked look on your face, stress is bad for the baby.

Don't worry. Mikey will take care of everything. He just needs you back inside your gilded cage nice and safe. Forever.

[read-marx-and-lenin]

Your understanding of the politics and government of the Soviet Union is severely flawed. I see no point in debating the topic with you when you clearly do not know what you are talking about on this front. I recommend reading Pat Sloan's "Soviet Democracy" to get a basic understanding of how workplaces and elections worked in the Soviet Union.

When I said "alternative forms of decision making", I was not referring to non-democratic forms. I was saying that majority vote is not the only possible form of democratic decision making. The rights and interests of minorities and individuals can and should be protected under a democratic system, and simple majority vote does not always ensure this. Majority vote can often be undemocratic as a result. There have been many methods used in the past and present to make up for its shortcomings, and I see no reason to believe that this goal will not be further explored and improved upon in the future.

A society that abandons modern technology and demands that each individual engage in solitary subsistence labor would mean a tremendous loss of freedom and autonomy for everyone, not to mention the millions of people that would suffer and die as a result of a lack of social support and necessary medical interventions. I disagree with your assertion that industrial labor must necessarily be monotonous, but even if that were the case, I do not see why such a massive collapse of social networks and increase in burdensome labor is preferable to monotony.

Again, I must stress that I find the idea that individuals cannot achieve psychological fulfillment through pursuit of social goals to be absurd. What are you basing this idea on?

I do not find the idea of socializing and coercing people into not killing each other to be abhorrent or undesirable. The freedom to murder is not a freedom I think people should have. I don't think people should be free to act on amoral and anti-social desires. It's obvious you disagree on this front, so I don't know what more there is to say here.

Industrial society is not synonymous with capitalism and the market economy. That capitalism has historically brought with it advances in industry is not in dispute. But that does not mean advancing past capitalism and towards a freer and less coercive mode of production while also advancing science and industry is impossible.

The idea that advancing past capitalism requires abandoning industry and reverting to a pre-industrial mode of production is ridiculous and self-contradictory. The structure of society is dependent on the material conditions of society. Returning to pre-industrial material conditions would mean returning to a pre-industrial social structure. The Adam Smith-esque society of individual artisans and craftsmen acting autonomously that you describe has never existed. What you would get if you were somehow able to achieve this impossible goal of returning to a pre-industrial level of production is a feudal agrarian society.

A one-party state is not undemocratic, and there have been multi-party Marxist-Leninist DotPs (e.g. the German Democratic Republic and the DPRK.) Your idea of a "decentralized revolution" has never succeeded in the real world. You can say "just do it decentralized" all you want, but that doesn't mean it's a realistic and achievable concept.

The egoist society you describe is poorly thought-out and impractical. It cannot possibly exist in reality, and even as a thought experiment it is wholly unimaginative and deeply misanthropic. Humans will be dependent on other humans for generations to come. You don't have to like it, but it's reality.

alright.

I'll start with Lenin first, then move to Marx. Lenin was an autocrat and a dictator. There's no way around it. He was unelected and created a one-party state. This was due to the fact that the revolution was led by a vanguard, which the members of, once they succeeded in overthrowing the old government, could easily set up a self-serving dictatorship. He's not a Marxist, and he's not a Socialist.

Since Lenin obviously did not in any way uphold the vision of Marx, I'll tackle him separately. A (stateless) communist society does eliminate many hierarchies, but leaves the most coercive systems untouched. Those being: the hierarchy of the collective over the individual and that coercion required of industrialism. In a commune, one's individual vote is negligible, since the outcome is only affected by one person's vote in very rare circumstances. Once the votes are tallied, the individual is expected to conform to the decisions of the majority, and to accept the commune's laws and customs. This leads to the individual becoming feeling helpless and weak.

Secondly, Marxism fails to address the coercion required to make an industrial society function. In order to have products, you must have a payroll of workers to stand where they are told to stand and do what they are told to do and go home and show up to work when they are told to do it. Instead of working towards goals that are immediate, which directly affect one's condition (such as building a house to live in), one must do a task or set of tasks that ultimately has little to do directly with one's own material well-being. Instead, the hyperspecialized work required in an industrial society is made livable indirectly via trade. This leads to a dependence on the industrial system as a whole, which requires a massive amount of cohesion to function.

Humans are no longer permitted to act autonomously since doing so would be a hindrance to the system. Behaviors which are not conducive to the system are disallowed, but all unimportant facets of our life which do not interfere with the functioning of the system are permitted to grow within said limits.

Lenin was elected as Chairman of the Council of People's Commissars by the Congress of Soviets a total of nine times before his death. His position was not one elected by the people directly, but rather he was elected by the congressional representatives of the soviets who were themselves elected by the people. You can argue that his position should have been directly elected if you want, but you cannot say he was unelected. Regardless, while the Chairman of the CPC was the head of government of the RSFSR, and later the Soviet Union, the CPC was not a one-person council and the council as a whole was subordinate to the Central Executive Committee, which was in turn subordinate to the Congress of Soviets. Lenin was not an autocrat or a dictator; he did not hold sole legal authority and the Soviet government had numerous checks and balances.

I see no reason to believe a vanguard party or a one-party state is undemocratic. The USSR was a dictatorship, but not a dictatorship of one person. It was a dictatorship of the proletariat, as the bourgeoisie were stripped of the right to vote and to be elected. You can object to this if you like, but I personally don't think that was a bad decision.

You seem to be arguing that Lenin was neither Marxist nor socialist because the nascent Soviet Union was not yet classless or stateless. Yet why should it have been expected to be? Communism is not something that can be achieved overnight, or even in one generation. In the meantime, there must be some mechanism for suppressing and overthrowing the bourgeoisie. No matter how democratic, how horizontal, and how people-oriented that mechanism is, it still constitutes a state insofar as it constitutes an organ for the oppression of one class by another. Unless you are arguing that the rights of the bourgeoisie should be maintained and protected, you cannot escape this fact.

At the point of achieving a stateless, classless communist society, I don't see why decision-making would necessarily be performed through simple majority vote. While it's rather pointless in my mind to be speculating about how a hypothetical communist society of the future might function, I think it's safe to say they'd be far more capable of exploring alternative forms of decision-making than we are now. In any case, the question of how a future communist society might function is entirely separate from questions of past and present systems of government.

You are right to point out that the industrial mode of production requires collective and specialized activity in order to function, but I fail to see what the alternative is. Humans are a social animal, our production has always been collective and we have always benefited from specialization in labor. The advancement in industry has made possible a reduction in socially necessary labor time, not an increase. It is capitalism and the profit motive that has mandated long hours and low autonomy in the workplace, not industry itself.

People are not inherently stupid or self-centered. They can understand very well the relationship between one sector of industry and another. You do not need to be building a house to understand how, for instance, the nails you are manufacturing will be used to build houses and other goods. You do not need to be manufacturing nails to understand how the iron you are mining will be used to make nails and other goods. The idea that it is alienating to be engaged in a task that is socially beneficial rather than merely individually beneficial is absurd.

You talk about social cohesion as if it is impossible or undesirable. But again, what is the alternative? An incoherent, fragmented society? No society at all, and people just fend for themselves as individuals? I fail to see how anything less than social cohesion is desirable.

You say that industrial society is coercive and prevents people from acting autonomously. I say, what does it mean to act autonomously? Humans must satisfy our basic needs before we can think about engaging in autonomous activity. If you are starving, you are compelled to seek food. If you are freezing, you are compelled to seek shelter. Individual freedom is subordinate to our material conditions, and only through improving our material conditions can we satisfy our basic needs and guarantee individual freedom.

If we are to have a society where the individual freedoms of everyone are maximized, then we must have a society which guarantees everyone their basic needs. Food, shelter, clothing, medicine, education, transportation, communication, etc. All of these must be secured before a person has full freedom to act autonomously. Improving the quality of these things and the efficiency of their production improves the standard of living and reduces socially necessary labor time, which allows for greater degrees of freedom.

You say behaviors which are not conducive to the system are disallowed. I do not necessarily disagree, but I feel you are intentionally obscuring the nature of such behaviors. What is “the system” here? The system is society. So a behavior not conducive to society is an anti-social behavior, a behavior that impedes or harms other members of society. Why should these behaviors be allowed? Is it maximizing autonomy and freedom to allow someone to steal or rape or murder with impunity? No, it is merely trading someone else's freedom and autonomy for your own.

You can certainly maximize your own freedom and autonomy at the expense of others, but if we are to live in a society where the freedom and autonomy of everyone is to be maximized, then there must be certain limits to individual behavior for the sake of others. Maybe someday humanity will evolve to a state where one can live in their own private world with maximum freedom to do as they please without worrying about impacting others, but until that day we will have to live in a society with other people and the social restrictions that come with that. Personally, I don't think it's such a burden to have to care about other people.

Society as it stands today is indeed imperfect and often oppressive. Socialist states in the past and present have yet to achieve the classlessness and statelessness that marks higher-stage socialism, i.e. communism. They too are imperfect and have restricted people's behavior in various ways, some I would argue are necessary, and some I would argue are unnecessary. However, I believe that socialism offers us the greatest opportunity to improve society as a whole and liberate humanity from oppressive structures. I believe that capitalism remains the central impediment to the advancement of society and the pursuit of human freedom. I believe that a vanguard party and a dictatorship of the proletariat have been the most effective means of combating the bourgeoisie so far. And I believe that the advancement of science and industry has been the most effective means of securing and improving the basic needs of the people as a whole.

My question to you remains: what is the alternative? You can criticize all you want, and thoughtful and rational critique of all things is both important and beneficial, but unless you have an alternative to socialist revolution and industrial society, then you're just throwing the baby out with the bathwater. How are we to combat the bourgeoisie without a vanguard or a state? How are we to provide people with their basic needs without industrial production?

[oceangirl24]

Fandom drama finally over (next chapter on the way).

Well, this month has been surreal.

For those of you who have been following me for a while you know I have dealt with plagiarism and harassment by a fandom writer since October of 2022- exactly twenty years after I posted the first chapter of AiP on FFN.

Totally gone.

Everything has been deleted everywhere.

The name has been scrubbed, even on pages that tagged her. Only a few gift fics on FFN and a few stories on WhoFic.com remain.

Gone like she never existed.

I've held off saying anything in case it was a just a dream, but it's real.

She is gone!

It's over.

Finally!

I cannot tell you what a massive relief this is.

I have never named her publicly through all of this, although I know some of you figured out who it was.

MrsFizzle. Kaylie Night.

I never shared the extent of what went on for several reasons, but mostly because I knew my socials were being watched and I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that what she was doing was so badly affecting my physical and mental health.

I was already dealing with a severe bout of depression and anxiety when she contacted me on FFN in October 2022. At that time, I did not have any socials linked to my FF accounts other than my art account on FFN. I was just getting back into fandom and hadn't decided how I wanted to engage yet. We had been talking in comments on AO3, and instead of asking me if I wanted to talk privately, she just appeared in my dms saying she wanted to talk so she "found" me. This was disturbing, especially since she indicated she was aware I likely did not want to hear from her, but I brushed it off as anxiety talking. I had said I wanted fandom friends after all. And I had no reason not to talk to her.

I should have listened to my instinct.

She straight up told me what she was going to do and how she was going to do it- take my work and Audrey to chop up and use as she pleased. She immediately began to gaslight me by saying she had all of this already written and was giving me a heads up so I wouldn't think she copied. Later, she insisted she would not change anything about Ashley, which made her previous offer to change her name not sincere.

I felt I couldn't say anything about this, not even saying yes, please change the name. What right did I have anyway? It's fanfiction. Mine is the only story like it in the fandom and recognizable, so she'll credit me, and I'll get over it.

I hated it, though. I hated what I thought she was trying to do, and I hated myself for thinking that of someone new to and excited about the fandom. I've been in BMW fanfiction since 2002 and have always had a great experience with it and the people in it. I convinced myself that I was reading into things, and that depression and anxiety were skewing my perception.

Over a year later, while putting the report together, I saw her own words in comments with the dates on them telling me she read AiP and Flashbacks before writing her story, I just didn't catch it. I also saw all the lies she told her readers about the situation. I saw the little comments picking at my characters and story line, the ones she said she loved so much to make herself look better. I can't imagine what she was telling people privately with how bold as she was publicly.

She lied to me about everything from why Ashley's name was so similar to Audrey's to the plot she had planned for her "little family". Told me our OCs had to be the same because they were written for the same character. They had to be younger than Jon, had to have a traumatic backstory, and had to be good with teens, very pretty, etc. There were differences: her character wasn't as young as mine and "had more of an edge to her".

Also she said she couldn't tag Ashley as an OC because she wasn't. Not really. To say she was original would be "presumptuous". She existed in GMW.

Somehow Audrey did not nor did any other OC love interest for Jon even though they too were nurses like in canon. Unbelievably, she even told a reader Ashley was a canon character.

We talked for one week.

It was a miserable seven days. I set my discord status to invisible to get rid of the pressure to respond right away when she messaged. She didn't like this and wanted to know why she couldn't tell when I was online.

No one else ever shows up like that she said, why do you?

I made something up and said a bunch of things to appease her, but I was worried about why this was such an issue, especially since many of my friends were also permanently invisible. The fear she was watching my online movement just had to be my anxiety driving paranoia, right? She couldn't be. Who has time for that?

A fandom friend I had been talking to about the conversations as they happened advised me to get out. She said I shouldn't be afraid and anxious when talking to someone about fandom things.

I finally got the courage to end it. She didn't like being cut off. I tried to be nice about it and took all the blame on myself for this fandom friendship not working out, but that wasn't enough. I finally had to be forceful (or honest I suppose) and tell her I felt like I was being lied to because what she told me was different than what she was telling other people.

She denied it of course and was very offended.

"May God deal with me as He sees fit if I have intentionally decieved you."

This closed out one of her last FFN messages and always bothered me. Was it purposely worded like that or a Freudian slip? In hindsight, now that she's deleted everything, maybe He did just that.

I found out later that the "repetitive stress injury paired with hypermobility" in her wrists that left her unable to type for a year was not her story. See I have hypermobility in my lower body, really bad in my hips. In talking to her, a lot of what she said didn't make sense and she often wouldn't give direct answers. Later on Reddit she announced that her wrists were suddenly healed, all better now. I had no clue you could be cured of hypermobility (you can't).

When compiling the plagiarism report, I came across the AN on a story written by a close friend of hers (I was blocking all close associates). What was it about? A repetitive stress wrist injury paired with hypermobility. It looked like it went up during the time we were talking.

She told me one thing about why she left her job in the AO3 comments. Then she used my own AN about why I left teaching (internal school politics) to come up with a different reason for leaving education on FFN that honestly made no sense to me but I didn't question her. She then told Reddit something different.

There were other instances where she took someone else's story and claimed it as her own real-life tale. Some of this was public, too. Either she thought no one would pick up on it, or she thought she could say anything she wanted and not be held accountable. I don't know.

Then there was the drive to push me out of the fandom using what weaknesses she knew I had to do it. Looking back, she was very good at it. Too good for it to be the first time she'd done this to someone. She claimed I was the first person since high school she'd had drama with and the first ever online. I highly doubt that now.

I had Cameos from Tony Quinn and had spoken to him in dms. I mentioned these to her, and she insisted on seeing them. I didn't want to share them. They were special to me with a lot of personal things said. But I was selfish by not sharing, right? So, I gave in, edited out the personal stuff, and sent them to her.

Immediately I regretted it.

As soon as she indicated she's seen them, I deleted them. Then she said she hadn't seen part of one and none of the others, could I send again? I ended up making an excuse as to why I couldn't - too much personal info. Truthfully, I had the inexplicable fear she was going to take the videos and claim them as her own.

You see, she didn't care anything about Tony whom I've been a big fan of since 1994 when we first started talking. He was just some old guy to her. Until she found out how much I liked him. Then suddenly she was his biggest fan and just had to meet him because he was so wonderful. They lived in the same state after all. Oh, but don't worry I would get to meet him too someday for sure, she told me... on the other side of heaven. 🙄

When I told my friend about this one, she said to cut contact.

(Ironically, by the time we started talking, Tony had already moved back to my home state, where he and his wife are from. Learned that from his Pod Meets World interview that came out a month after we stopped talking. I cried-laughed the first time I listened to the interview.)

She liked to point out how old I was. I never told her, she did the math and figured it out she said. She was wrong, but it didn't matter. She was aware of personal insecurities and liked to push this one. I told her things I should not have but I was desperate for another friend and I convinced myself that all the warning sirens I was hearing in my head was just anxiety.

Towards the end of our time talking on Discord, she had started the subtle dismantling of my confidence in AiP. I was very aware that my work was outside of the norm for the fandom at the time and was often insecure about it. With little feedback at the time, I didn't know what to do.

It's a trilogy, split it into three parts maybe, so the word count isn't so intimidating?

She told me the story was too long, and even splitting it into three parts wouldn't help- no one reads sequels or will go back to read the first parts. On the other hand, no one would be interested in giving it a chance because of the length. Also, the story wasn't healing- and that is why people read, you know. Her attitude toward Audrey grew chilly and very, "she's an OC, people don't like OC main characters." This was a drastic departure from her comments on AiP.

Then she started bragging about how well her story was doing and all the comments she got. Fans were just begging her for more.

After I cut contact, she blocked me on Reddit and purposely took over the Jon and Jon and Shawn threads so I couldn't participate. This continued until I blocked her. She didn't like having her participation limited.

Blocks on both sides were lifted for awhile. I wish I hadn't lifted mine. But I had been so looking forward to season 2 of PMW and wanted to talk to others about it and Mr. Turner. I thought I could handle dealing with her more out there takes.

During this time, I noticed a sharp drop in interaction on my stories.

Readers not from Reddit or FFN disappeared. I always wondered about the timing. Readers gushed over her, though, and several indicated they were talking to her on Discord, too.

She knew how much fandom connection meant to me and took every opportunity to flaunt hers, whether in her comments or on Reddit. She had a thing for following me around and posting where I did, including on other people stories.

I mentioned this feeling of being left out and wondering if there was a Discord server for BMW I didn't know about. She said there was none she knew of and told me no one wanted to talk about BMW in a discord server anyway. All the people she talked to were uncomfortable with that. They only wanted to talk to her privately.

Turns out that was another lie.

Not only did I find that people wanted a discord server, in a comment thread with her and another reader about wanting to discuss head canon offsite, one of those readers "uncomfortable with discord servers" created one of their own and dropped a link inviting them to it some months before that conversation.

It wasn't the existence of a private server that bothered me so much. If there was, there was. It was the way she told me: everyone wanted her, nobody wanted me.

Had it not been for readers alerting me to the stolen work, I would never have known any of this. I'd still be wondering why the fanfiction side of the fandom wanted little to do with me when I sincerely tried to give back as much as I got and tried to welcome/encourage writers, especially new Jon & Shawn writers.

Then she contacted me on Christmas Eve 2022 on Reddit. After I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with her. As always, I was too nice. I still blamed myself and the anxiety for everything that happened. She offered friendship and apologies and then abruptly ripped the offer away when I expressed having reservations. When I didn't do what she wanted, she got mean.

Admittedly, her hurtful words about having "tons" of fandom friends to talk to when I didn't upset me. Since she liked to talk about God and being a Christian, I shot her some Bible verses about words and told her how cruel she was.

That didn't go over well.

Later I felt bad about it. Maybe I was too harsh, too judgemental, too sensitive. Blaming my anxiety for my reaction, I stupidly reached out on Valentine's Day 2023 to try to make peace with her.

She was even meaner and now saying she was afraid of me. She said I had hurt her so much she couldn't trust me. She admitted that she'd hurt me too but wouldn't say how, just that we kept hurting each other, so she was too scared to talk to me.

What?

I was talking about her, she claimed. And that was too much. She couldn't take the pain and stress of being talked about online. Oh, and her depression was worse and she struggled more, so what I was going through didn't matter.

Did I talk about her online?

In the aftermath of the Discord chats, I was angry she wouldn't leave me alone when asked. I resented her trying to push me out of a fandom I've been in since I was a little kid. I vented my frustration by making a wildest opinion that fans had heard over the years post on Reddit. Mine was that Jon was a coward for letting Shawn go back to Chet. I never named her or how I'd heard this opinion. I didn't think she was even still around the subreddit.

She outed herself.

I think the biggest problem with the post was that no one agreed with her take. I deleted the post not long after it was made and apologized to her for it later, but it wasn't good enough.

The next thing wasn't even about her. I told her that when she contacted me on Reddit. Someone had posted about having to block someone online and why. I responded sympathetically, referencing something that had happened before I met her. She refused to accept that my comment wasn't about her. Of course, I was talking about her, how could I not be?

Everything was about her no matter what the topic was.

But these were the terrible things I did to her that made her afraid of me. She couldn't come up with anything else. Turns out what she was really afraid of was that I would find out what she was doing and what she was telling others.

For 16 months I was so stressed and depressed that I started having panic attacks again. @lizettevanessa and later @mrsmungus virtually held my hand and talked me through these. They spent hours trying to help me calm down and get me to think rationally over that time.

I have type 1 diabetes and stress is a killer for me. Throughout this ordeal, my blood sugar was stuck at over 300 for hours on end and it seemed that no matter how much insulin I used it wasn't enough. And then the bottom would fall out and my blood sugar crashed. It was a never-ending cycle of trying to bring down highs and bring up lows. This led to stomach problems, constant migraines, and eventually hair loss. I had so many nights where I couldn't sleep. I was so depressed I couldn't work out and I couldn't cope with online or rl situations that shouldn't have been a big deal.

It also triggered the ED.

I hadn't had a relapse in years.

Online I was always looking over my shoulder wondering if the people in fandom were being honest with me or if they were pretending to be my friend while reporting back to her. I know for a fact one person in the BMW server was doing this. I know at least a couple of readers/friends were involved and that she created alts impersonating others.

Trying to run an inclusive, welcoming fandom server while trying to protect myself was a nightmare.

I honestly can't put into words how much damage she did. It was only because of my chaos family and sis @mrsmungus that I didn't quit everything. No exaggeration. I came very close several times to deleting over 20 years of work and history because of her.

What I've just told you is a just a part of what I've dealt with since late 2022.

The worst part is I think she'd be pleased to know how effective her tactics were. I don't know what was going on in her life that drove her to do this. I don't know if she is just that jealous, entitled, and petty a person or if she was lashing out because of something done to her and this was the only way she could get revenge- by going after an easy target and inflicting the same hurt she'd suffered.

What did she gain by doing all of this? If if I had left the fandom, what was the end goal? There were/are a lot of Jon and Shawn adoption writers out there. Would she drive them out to so she could be the BNF of BMW?

I've been in online fandom for over 20 years and I've learned that fandom is cyclical. Favorite tropes, characters, etc. change over time, falling out of favor and then becoming popular again. It would be a full-time job plus overtime trying to stay on top.

As for me, all she had to do is admit where her inspiration came, just once, just a note. Instead, she chose to lie, manipulate, and harass me just so she didn't have to admit it.

It's incredibly stupid if you stop to think about it.

But she is gone now and all of that is gone with her.

I don't know what happened that made her nuke everything and I do not care. It doesn't matter.

I used to want that story rewritten or gone. But in all honesty, I am ecstatic to see she's gone.

Good riddance.

Looking back, I get the feeling she is a very privileged person who has been sheltered from having to deal with the consequences of her actions for a long time and not just online.

Going back over all the private correspondences with her, the ones she had a with a mutual reader that were sent to me, and her response to AO3 that was removed by staff, in them is a trend in claiming something awful happened to her making it impossible for anything to be her fault when confronted with something negative. Flu, injury, baby, computer theft, ID theft, etc. There was always an excuse. She was always the victim.

She got away with it until she didn't.

I really do hope she deals with whatever caused her to act this way. It's terrible for those who cross her path who aren't her constant cheerleader, but it's worse for her in the end.

You can't be like that and be happy.

You know what is sad?

She's actually a talented writer. She could have taken that story and really done something special with it. The foundation was there. She could have taken Ashley and made her into a fully developed, living, breathing character who could have shaped her family unit in a way that didn't look anything like mine even if the same basic elements were there. It would have been so easy for her to do. Instead, she picked what she wanted from mine, minced it up, and harassed me over what she was doing.

AO3's verdict on my report, which was still out a year later, no longer matters since she deleted everything.

If by chance Kaylie is reading this or does read this someday, let me be very clear: Do not think I feel sorry for you in any way. Do NOT contact me for any reason, not even to apologize. Do not come at me with new accounts anywhere. I do not care if it's ten years from now. I want nothing to do with you.

Yet out of all this mess, there were some incredible things that came of it. Because of her behavior, it drove me to get involved with fanfiction outside of the fandom and find my online family. If I had the chance to go back in time and avoid her, but it meant not finding my family, I'd decline. Her nonsense was worth finding them.

Because of her, I did become afraid to get involved with fandom people and very nearly missed meeting someone who is very dear to me. @justanotherpersonwhowrites posted her story on FFN and I completely panicked when I saw the description of her OC. Thankfully she posted on Tumblr and AO3 later on as I was finding my family. I reread her story and fell in love with her OC. I got up the courage to reach out and I am so glad I did. She is an amazing person, a talented writer, and an incredible friend.

Also the BMW discord server happened because of Kaylie. I didn't want others to be isolated from the fandom like I was and Reddit is good for some things but not others. Not only is it an archive for the show but a place for fans to find each other. It is also a safe place for fanfiction writers to get together.

So what happens now?

Autumn in Philadelphia will go on, without a doubt. And I will be picking up my other stories that were more lighthearted and fun. I have a series of Jondrey one shots that I really want to do too. A lot fun stuff and art. I'll be more active on here and in the BMW server.

The AN that's on every story will be changed to link to this post.

As for blocks, they will remain for now.

The reason is I've been through too many bouts of silence only for her to resurface. Although she can't return in the same way, I don't know that she doesn't still have former readers acting as her eyes and ears. Eventually all blocks will be lifted except on those I know to be her friends because she named them as such.

I still have the report, the screencaps (soooo many screencaps), all her messages, and a copy of that story. I took screenshots of all the places she used to exist but doesn't anymore because it still doesn't seem real. I thought about purging everything, but they are now a part of AiP's history. Someday I'll get around to building that neocities site as a tribute to the era this all began in and I will include everything: the fantastic, the strange, and the nightmarish.

I want to extend my eternal gratitude to one of my dearest friends, @lizettevanessa, to my sis @mrsmungus, to little sis @justanotherpersonwhowrites, to @lena-hills @kayedium-writes @hylianjo @sliebman10 @axolotlsupremacyowo @udaberriwrites @fattybattysblog @narcissasdaffodil @danceswithdarkspawn and the rest of my Chaos family for your love and support during the past two years. I owe you everything.

And to my readers, who've been with me whether from the beginning or just joined, THANK YOU. I love and appreciate you more than you know.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

-Aria

[third-king-of-salmonids]

DUE TO JOEPHOBIA THEY SENT MY SHIRT TOO SMALL SO I HAD TO GIVE IT TO THUMBS CREATURE NOW I GOTTA FIND A DIFFERENT DISGUISE FOR THE HOT TOPIC AT SHORT NOTICE >:V

[necrotic-nephilim]

I started in DC by reading fanfics, but as I began to read actual comics, I started to be unable to read the actual fanfic that got me into it in the first place because it's so out of character.

But there are still some stories that I love to read because I love the found family trope so much, even if it isn't really accurate to the source material.

As a comics purist (sometimes), are there tropes that you like enough that you'll still enjoy a fic even if it's not accurate to canon?

oh my god this is SUCH a fun question. bc while i started with the comics, there were certain characters and/or character dynamics where i was exposed to the fanon before the canon (just bc it's hard to read everything when you start out just to read some fanfic) and so i've definitely experienced the fanon to canon transition. (*especially* with Jason Todd. i had only read 80s/90s stuff where he was already dead or the New-52 bc that was on-going when i got into comics and man. the fanon misunderstandings i had about him before i got frustrated and sat down to read all his pre-Flashpoint stuff were absolutely bonkers.) and aside from that, whilst i tend to prefer canon over fanon, i'm not past giving fanon its flowers for occasionally having really interesting insights. occasionally. so some of my fanon "guilty pleasure" tropes would probably be

Morally Grey Tim Drake - this is one where if you try to back it up with canon, i *will* get salty about it. of everyone in the Batfam aside from maybe Bruce and Cass, Tim has the *most* black and white morals. often his internal conflicts are routed in such an inability to compromise his moral views and it can cause him to clash with other characters. he's *very* stiff and rigid in his beliefs and is *rare* to compromise in even the smallest ways. i mean, DC has repeatedly used Tim Drake of Tomorrow/Savior/Gun Batman!Tim for a reason. it's to demonstrate that of everyone, Tim *cannot* have his morals compromised. there's no grey area for him. he's zero or a hundred, so if he tips over the edge of "too far" he tips *all the way*, and doing so is one of his worst fears, how he could go "too far" if he let himself. a couple panels out of context from Red Robin (2009) (which was a grief spiral for Tim to begin with) don't change that. now that said. if it's done *right*, i sort of love Tim being morally grey in fanfic. it takes a specific flavor for me, and it's incredibly important to include that mental spiral along with it, of him struggling to justify it. i don't have any interest in "Tim Drake is loosy goosy with Bruce's morals and has the highest kill count and no one knows teehee" bc it doesn't play with the interesting parts of making Tim morally grey, which are fracturing his psyche. but all in all, i think it's fun to put Tim in a morally grey area and i will read it in fanfic and i enjoy writing it a lot

Joker Junior!Tim Drake - i've not written it on this account (yet) but on my main ao3 account one of my biggest fics surrounds this concept. this is one of those "well *technically* it's canon but only in a specific very divorced from the comics universe and would not work at all in the main timeline" so, i categorize it as fanon in that 95% of fics exploring the concept are not doing so within the Batman Beyond universe, but the main timeline. i just love it. I'll take any excuse to whump Tim, but this concept is so fun. psychologically breaking Tim will always be my favorite pastime. there are so many ways to explore the long-term effects this could have on him, how it could affect the Batfam. i'm not a fan of it being used as a "gotcha" to Jason or Babs' trauma with the Joker to paint Tim as the Ultimate Victim, but it is fun to see how their relationships would be affected by being mutual victims of him. (i have a vague JayTim idea where TIm fully retires from being Robin after being Joker Junior and killing the Joker, making Steph Robin for most of his typical Robin era and Jason still tracks him down out of curiosity bc he wants to know what happened and all. very underbaked but i've got thoughts.)

Renegade/Apprentice of Slade!Dick Grayson - this is another one where yes, this happened *sort of* in canon, but i highly doubt most people writing Renegate!Dick have read or are actually pulling from Nightwing: Renegade. it's just an exploration fo the concept fo Dick being Slade's apprentice and i will always eat it up in any capacity. whether Dick grows up with Slade from a young age, or chooses Slade for whatever reason later in life. it's not anything that works in canon bc it compromises Dick morally (similar to the above with Tim) and therefore will always come across incredibly fanon in most fics. but i can't say i don't enjoy it. it's fun to make Dick a little morally fucked up and see what you can make him under Slade's tutelage.

Jason & Damian Meeting in the League -there's no world where i believe this could work in the canon comics. (maybe in the Young Justice cartoon i suppose, but even then i think it's iffy) i would go as far to say it's wildly unrealistic. i don't see a world where Ra's would let Jason anywhere *near* Damian, bc Jason was Talia's pet project that he didn't approve of. that all said, there's something very interesting about how they *could've* met and them potentially bonding during that timeframe. them being somewhat brotherly during this time because Jason sees Bruce in Damian and sort of latches onto the kid and Damian is full of wonder hearing real stories about Batman and Robin, then that getting violently ripped away by Jason leaving the League is fun to me. it's fun how that could affect them within the Batfam and all. it's super fanon to me, but i do not care. i will eat it up

Bad Dad Clark Kent/Good Dad Lex Luthor - i will admit as a late, i've been less and less kind to this particular fanon bc of everything i've argued with people about, *this* one seems the most pervasive as misunderstood fanon. i don't mind when fanon exists, my gripe is when ppl try to claim it's canon. and the *arguments* i've had over this with people who can never seem to cite an actual comic are... frustrating. but that said, i think there is something fun to this strictly in fanon. the duality of who you expect to accept Kon and who you expect to hurt him being flipped is just sort of fun for the occasional guilty pleasure fic. it can make Kon's internal conflict a bit more interesting. the same goes for the Jon favoritism from Clark, it's not a canon thing (and i rlly wish ppl understood how complicated the timeline of Kon and Jon is and any distance from Clark toward Kon isn't malice, it's that Kon is from a timeline that Clark does not remember in the current canon so Clark just straight up doesn't know the poor kid.) but it's sort of fun to give Kon that complex of being overlooked and forgotten sometimes. making Kon just a *bit* more Luthor than Kent will *always* appeal to me in fanfic, especially if he *knows* it's wrong but craves approval from anyone who will give it.

Good Dad Bruce Wayne - i'll die on the hill Bruce is canonically a shitty father. maybe not to the extreme some people write him as, but he's not great at it. that said, i enjoy it in fanfiction. sometimes, i just want silly fluff or hurt/comfort where Bruce finally gets it right and manages to comfort whatever Batkid is in the fic. one of my favorite fics of all time is hinged on Bruce being a good dad, so i think it's just fun to explore how good the relationships *could* be, if Bruce was slightly less of an asshole. i usually prefer him as an asshole, but there are times i want low stakes nonsense.

Gotham Rogues Having Soft Spots for Robin(s) - just about every Rogue in Gotham has done something absolutely irredeemable, and most of them don't like or care about anyone in the Batfamily. but if there's a fic where one of the Robins inexplicably is sort of close with a Rogue and they have a cute silly relationship out of it? I'll eat it up i fear. Steph and the Riddler are besties? I'll believe it. Tim and Scarecrow get along pretty well? give me ten of these. Rogues protecting Robins just hits a spot. the unexpected nature of the relationship, as well as the fact they see each other regularly, can make a lot of good fodder.

[witchytakes]

conservative GC's since 2019 you said

Look how you guys do everything as possible to blame trans people, peak abbusive parent behaviour "you asked for rights and now everyone is hating you, it's your fault" Yeah sure they turned conservative because of trans people? Like WTF? That's fascist logic using a scapegoat to blame people being shitty? Not the whole right wing propaganda? Shit like "the immigrants are taking your jobs", "because of a certain country our prices has risen so you should vote for conservatives", "gay people are grooming our kids to be gay", "the woke mob wants to control people", "feminists will kill your babies" and shit like that, and now the reason for them to become conservative is suddenly trans people? Hello?

I'm gonna tell a story, sex based spaces begin as a patriarch construction, before that it wasn't separated by sex, men did the separation in order to make women take more time, see the old buildings where women toilets are very further than the men ones? That's the thing, it wasn't to protect women, but to control them Like Transfeminists wants to ban these kind of spaces for gender neutral ones, why we should have rules about sex and gender at all? Sex based spaces are still a form of gender and you guys still don't get it? Yeah men are dangerous we know, but they are because of patriarch, because of society, and you guys aren't ready to confront that yet, while trans people do take some effort in order to at least challenge this

everything bellow until the ID is correct, ironic how you bring how bad and gendery is this, but still wants spaces to be gendered at all, so much for gender abolition

ID's should be whatever the person wants, if a trans person don't want to be clocked fearing their own integrity, they should have the right to the ID of their own identity "because your ID is meant to help people identify you accurately." "We can always tell" but suddenly trans people should disclose they are trans on their ID somehow Why only trans people should be the ones who should disclose about themselves and being othered? Why they shouldn't just be normal people?

"If someone wants to ask people to use specific pronouns, that's their right too. If other people decline to do so, that's also their right." Yeah it's also the right of the trans person to say that this makes them unconfortable and ask the person to use the correct pronoun, this is a matter of respect honestly, if the other person insist on that, they are just a regular asshole

"Government agencies don't need to enforce gender ideology - not the trans version or the conservative version" Which one is the trans version? Do you guys really think government at some kind supports us? The same one who in the US banned trans healthcare from 1981 to 2012? The same one who's making waiting lists longer for a single appointment on UK? The same one who does nothing when doctors are prescribing bad treatment to trans women on purpose? The same one who's in most countries being trans is a crime? The same one who's banning trans people from existing? Like don't make me laugh, Government wants us dead

"The secret to a civil society isn't about getting everyone to agree with each other, it's about learning how to get along when you disagree" Same energy:

Letter from a radical feminist to trans people

Feminists have tried to sound the alarm about trans overreach and how it harms women, and we've been attacked and ignored by the left as a result. However, the issue leaked into the broader society and normies - who are only vaguely aware of these issues - have turned to conservatives to lead the push back. However, conservatives are not opposed to gender ideology, they just have their own version and want to impose it on everyone.

Feminists stand against gender ideology of both stripes.

Protecting women's rights is important, and sex-based segregation in places like prisons, washrooms and change rooms is vital for women's protection.

Protecting women and girls participating in female only sports is necessary and fair.

Banning trans people from the military is unacceptable discrimination. Some military units are sex-segregated (sometimes just in the barracks and in training at other times), but your gender identity doesn't affect your ability to serve your country. Your sex-segregated unit can handle a little more diversity in the ranks.

Forcing people to wear uniforms based on their sex is sex-based discrimination. If there are optional uniforms available, they should be available to everyone.

If someone wants to legally change their name, that's their right.

If an adult wants to medically alter their bodies and can find a doctor to do so, that's their right.

If someone wants to add a notation that they are trans to their ID, that's their right - because your ID is meant to help people identify you accurately.

If someone wants to ask people to use specific pronouns, that's their right too. If other people decline to do so, that's also their right.

Government agencies don't need to enforce gender ideology - not the trans version or the conservative version. Government needs to protect the rights of women and of minorities and let society function in all its chaotic diversity.

The secret to a civil society isn't about getting everyone to agree with each other, it's about learning how to get along when you disagree.

Gender identity is no different than any other religion - it doesn't matter if we personally agree with it, we should still defend it against government overreach.

I know this is a tricky conversation to have, but I couldn't let this go unsaid.