#that's just my personal opinion on the matter

[arcadia345]

❃Astrology observations❃

Masterlist

Not a real astrologer just my observations:)

❃ Aquarius moon femmes tend to be more masculine/tomboyish whether it be their personality or fashion sense they prefer loose fitting clothes. They have this nonchalantness/offstandish energy about them, they also are very sensitive and receptive to energies around them esp after one on one interactions but surprisingly do very well w online interactions💀they could feel like their personality shines brighter online than irl

❃ 12th ruler in 7th natal partners could have animosity towards you esp if you prefer men they tend to have secret intentions/lives

❃ Sagittarius in your natal chart is where you tell the best stories, and gemini can show where others ask for advice/tell their best stories to you(and lowkey try to impress you)

♐︎ in 1st -you ARE the story, there’s never a dull moment ,so many memories are made w you, many stories where you had to be reminded that your that GIRL/GUY✨ (esp by your guides)

♐︎ in 8th- they articulate their trauma very well, the ones that talk openly about their abuse, lots of near-death stories, surgery stories that they almost didn’t make it out of, thieving stories

♐︎ in 11th- the type to bring their friends into every situation/story, most likely to do the best story time vids online, their stories can be eye opening for the collective, people love when they predict the future, stories about the future/goals of humanity, evolution stories, stories about you gaining independence(just like 1st)

♐︎ in 12th- they love to hear about your dreams and conspiracies, they love when you talk about your insecurities and spill your own secrets, your paranormal experiences and things about past lives

♊︎ in 2nd- they love to tell you how hard they work for their assets, “You know I haven’t told anyone this but I feel like I can trust you.” They don’t mind telling you about their illegal activities, people have a tendency to think you took something from them, they come to you for advice on how to approach situations

♊︎ in 5th- the type to have kids come up to them and all their parents business (4th house also), the best childhood memory stories, people try to impress you w their sex stories , they come to you for advice on sex and love matters also, asking for your opinion w fashion & aesthetics, you make them want to try new things🥵

❃ Taurus in the 3rd/4th find it hard to leave their family/home

❃ Sending love out to Venus in Pisces/12th house natals y’all are what fairytales are made of🥺 just being in your presence is healing even tho they feel sometimes their deepness and devotion isn’t reciprocated at times idk who needed to hear this but your loving energy transcends the physical barriers you could do a lot of energy work on the other side w/o even realizing it esp while sleeping🧡

❃ I feel bad for Chloe because w that Gemini mars baby everybody always gonna think you doing too much😭 unti you don’t do enough & they’ll still be mad

Finding out Lil uzi has a Gemini mars sent me💀 it reminds of them vids of their security guard trying to keep up w them while they jump all over the place🕺🏽

❃ Sag moon children mom was in her hoe phase when u were conceived. Partying/traveling/drinking/learning was prominent for her at the time

Venus in natal can show you why others envy you

♀ in 2nd- they envy how consistently you upkeep yourself, they see how much money you put into yourself to look good, they hate how materially abundant you are, how easily you make money from your talents/assets, they envy your sugar daddy/baby energy

♀ in 4th- they envy how abundant your family/ancestry is, they envy your mom/your motherly skills, how easily you make a house feel like home, how rich your inner world is, your decoration sense, how easily you’ll be remembered after passing/leaving home, how easily you make money from home

♀ in 8th- they envy how easily others trust you esp w their money & possessions, how beautifully you shed your skin in transformations, sugarbaby placement, how magnetic you are, how easily people become obsessed w you, your way of love making/showing love/spoiling others or vise versa

♀ in 12th- a lot of people don’t even realize that they envy you/ subconsciously send you evil eye, you provoke their hidden desires(this place def has lots of people in their circle wishing on their downfall) they envy how content you are with yourself /and how you’ve healed yourself , your music taste

❃ Prominent Virgo in natal stay cleaning up other people’s 💩💀 like literally tho at some point in your life you’ve had to be some type of caretaker ie. animals, elderly, babies. But 💩 is more prominent/consistent in your life

But if ur a pet owner or caretaker in general you know that a lot of times the only way they can communicate what’s going on w their body Is through their bowel movements so it’s a blessing and a curse cuz it’s not like your obsessed with 💩 (unless👀) but you kinda have to be😭

❃ Every time I have prominent 8th synastry esp moon/mars we always have 🩸 sex eventually 🧍🏽‍♀️ they be feigning so bad for you that they can’t wait a few more days they need it now! But they always end up saying you put a spell on them like no bro u willingly put a spell on YOURSELF💀

❃ 7th house mercury could attract or prefer younger/pettie people or they are seen as such, also prone to have partners w prominent anxiety

❃ Eros/mars in Aries/cancer/scorpio in composite charts shows lots of crying during sex but for different reasons

Aries cries because ur f*cking/sucking them so good all they can do is take it like a champ and cry happy tears 🥲

Cancer cries because you truly touched their soul🥺 they never thought sex could be this satisfying and comforting at the same time (healing sex like Pisces)

With scorpio it’s kinda a mixture of both w sprinkles of trauma bonding✨

❃ Venus in 8th synastry- adoring eachothers beauty marks esp the house person @ Venus , the house person usually adores the Venus’s insecurities/stuff about themselves that they never picked up on which gives the Venus person a new prospective of their beauty

❃ Mercury synastry can tell you how you were first introduced/heard of each other

☿ in 8th- meeting while/before going through a transformational/traumatic period in your life, you could have problems w people owing you money or vise versa, catalyst for spiritual & sexual growth, meeting before/after having a major surgery

☿ in 9th- meeting through college/highschool,being introduced to/by a different ethnicity friend,meeting while traveling esp abroad, catalyst in spiritual journey, meeting through religious community

☿ in 4th- I have this w my mom while her ☿ is in my 1st so you could also share this w your parents, w cancer and Aries basically representing the womb her PUMPUM told her about me😂obvi she had no other choice but to learn about me I was coming weather she liked it or not😎 so w 1st house synastry I feel like they were kinda forced onto you they’re pretty hard to miss🥴with 4th her aunts/women in her family told her she was gonna have another baby before she even knew🤷🏽‍♀️

❃ Jupiter in 1st synastry -even the most stubborn person would hear planet person out w this placement 😏 Jupiter boost house persons ego/outlook on life, planet person just makes everything look good & exciting in house person eyes

❃ Pluto in 11th natal- unfriending someone could really feel like a divorce lmao telling people your not friends anymore and they react so crazy like “NO I NEVER WOULDVE THOUGHT💔💔💔” then splittng up your assets (friends/aspirations)

❃ Gemini Venus-girl next door vibe people watch through your window esp w some Pluto energy on your Venus, the song ‘She by Tyler the creator’ was made about us fr😭

❃ Taurus (2°14°26°)moons people think that they own you or that you’re some object they can use anytime they want whether it be your body or your possessions

Also having a Taurus moon could play out as feeling like you didn’t get the support that you needed in ur childhood, the type to have moms that say “I put clothes on your back, food on your plate, and a pillow to lay your head and you’re telling me I didn’t do enough for you??😠😤” like sorry I needed emotional support and understanding as a child that you couldn’t give me🥲 the mom could see the child as spoiled/ungrateful esp with harsh aspects on the moon, but they could also just feel like they have a right to your possessions esp if you live in the same house what is privacy?😀

❃ 6th house synastry is big on planning together,the type to count down the days till they get to see e/o 🥰

Now offering aura & synastry readings

That’s it for now, have a blessed day ✨

[rainrot4me]

Jeff the Killer General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jeff as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw!

Words: 2.6k

Basic:

- Big isolation guy. He enjoys pestering people or hanging out, but when it comes to personal things like missions or killing sprees, he prefers to be alone. His head’s already loud enough that he doesn’t need to add to it when he’s trying to focus.

- Blunt. Like to the point it’s a drag to even talk to him sometimes. He doesn’t really give a shit about anyone or anything besides himself, so why would he need to hide what he actually wants to say?

- Dangerously short temper. It barely takes one nasty remark or even a hint that you have ill intent towards him before the killer is on your ass. Would rather beat the shit out of you than take the time to reconcile.

- A STARER. Has absolutely no remorse when just boring his eyes into someone, eyes wide and horrifying. He loves to watch every expression as he’s ending someone’s life, every bit of anger or fear, but especially the blank stare in their eyes afterward. You catch his glance all the time, and instead of looking away politely like a normal person would, he just smiles as he glares even harder.

- Loves story based video games that Ben shows him. Life is Strange, Night in the Woods, and What Remains of Edith Finch. Has to play them all in their entirety before he can do anything else, so he’ll be glued to the couch for days.

- Has a difficult time with names, so he comes up with nicknames or terms to make it easier. “Twitch” - Toby, “Sockets” - Jack, or “Glitch” - Ben. Don’t worry, he’ll give you one, too.

- A laugher. When he’s in pain, when he’s sad, when he’s happy, that man is laughing. Choked out dry heaving chuckles or tipsy short airheaded giggles, it doesn’t matter, he will be laughing.

- Terrible sleep paralysis and nightmares keep him up during the night, the most sleep this man will ever get is a little over 3 hours. It really doesn’t help his mood, either.

- The scars on his cheeks used to bleed and get infected so bad he could barely shut his mouth due to the swelling. He would numb it down with pain killers and anything he could find, but it wasn’t until Slender tried to make him into a proxy that they eventually sealed and scarred over, creating wide gashes (weird cryptid powers).

- Thinks about his brother every waking moment. He feels so much pent up regret and sadness concerning Liu, but refuses to search for him or even shed a tear. This sends him into mental breakdown episodes, and sadly, the only relief is just to create more carnage.

- Actually really hates violence unless he’s the one delivering it. Doesn’t like violent movies or music because they romanticize everything he hates about himself. Any media he enjoys is either really bland or really toned down, stuff that won’t trigger him.

- Cuts his own hair, and yes, he’s horrible at it.

- Messed up his appearance to make himself ‘beautiful’, but just ended up so disgusted and ashamed of himself in the long run. When his mental fog gets bad, he’ll just stand in front of the mirror and stare at himself, letting every negative thought wash over. Outside, he’ll brandish it like a weapon, something to get victims to submit. But on the inside, it’s just a nasty reminder.

- Showers only when it gets to the uncomfortable point. He doesn’t have the time or energy or wash himself every day, but when it gets to the point he feels the blood and grime subconsciously, he’ll get over it. Even if he does wash himself, half the time actually in the shower is just letting the water run over him and staring at the tile wall.

- Gets all of his money and random trinkets from victims. Proceeds to spend all that money almost immediately after on a pack of Blue Moons. No orange slice, either.

- Messy, disgusting room. Has no healthy habits of keeping him or his space tidy, so it’s always near disastrous.

- Even though the media and lots of outlets perceive him as this insane maniac killer, those were all big stories from his teenage years. Even though he doesn’t feel like he’s matured, he’s definitely found a happy medium away from spree after spree of slaughter. He still itches to take down a whole neighborhood, but he’s found his ways to cope.

- Very good at hand-to-hand combat. He wields a knife if things get a little rough, but prefers to use his hands to do the dirty work. Makes it feel more personal to him.

- Late-night kitchen demon. You’ll find him rummaging the fridge or making a bowl of cereal in the complete darkness, but he’ll swear up and down it wasn’t him.

- Annoying, painfully so. Hell wrack EJ’s ear off or pester Toby about little things, but he can’t help but get giddy when he sees he’s ticked them off just enough.

- Really agile. Had a thinner build, but muscle definition and tension really adds to the aesthetic. Really defined v-line and hips bones, as well as carved out shoulders and collarbones. Looks like a beefier skeleton, but hot.

- Lip piercings. Snake bites. They’re not healed and they’re not pretty, but he thinks they look badass.

- Scars and jagged pieces of flesh everywhere on his body. They’re either from mission aftermaths, rough targets, or his own doing, but they’re all gnarly and barely healed half of the time. They hurt terribly, but he’s constantly cracked out on painkillers that he doesn’t even care anymore.

- Enjoys the shoegaze music genre. Aldn, Wisp, Elita, Deftones, and surprisingly, The Cardigans and The Cranberries. They remind him of his childhood.

Dating Him/SFW:

- “Baby” “Babe” “Cunt”

- Big words of affirmation guy. He’ll act disgusted and shove you off, rolling his eyes about your sweet words- but in reality, he’s gushing so hard he can’t stand it. Reassurance makes him feel more loved than anything.

- The fastest ‘enemies or lovers’ troupe you’ll ever experience. It’ll only take one face-to-face argument before you both get too close and he’s pulling you in for a rough make out. He’s bad with emotions, what makes you think he wouldn't be bad at reading love/hate signals too.

- HATES to show any sign of weakness or adoration. If you’re laying with him or holding his hand, as soon as someone enters the room he’s shoving you off. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s a deep-rooted fear that someone will use you against him.

- If he’s spent the night in your bed, he will always be gone by the time you’ve woken up. Out of fear of vulnerability, he will only fall asleep after you and wake up before you, otherwise he just won’t stay with you at all.

- He’s like dealing with a little kid. Yes, he’s been through heaps of mental anguish and trauma, but he’s gone through all of that without a hand to hold. In some sad way, he sees something motherly and comforting in you which drives him to latch on and become dependent. It's weird, but so is he.

- Jealousy problems. Big time.

- “He touched you. So I cut his arm off. What is so hard to understand here?”

- Needs to be bossed around. He can and will rot in his bed all day unless you tell him to get up and do something.

- Absolutely melts when you kiss him unprovoked. When he doesn’t force you or tease you into one, but when you decide to kiss his face or hands on your own terms. It’s his favorite thing.

- In his manic brain, he wants something calm, someone who can settle him out. You offer him stability and a chance to unwind and that’s really all he needs.

- As a nervous response, he’ll intentionally push you away if he knows you like him. He holds a lot of regret, so he doesn’t want to drag you along with the rest of his baggage. Will say and do things he knows will hurt your feelings so you leave on your own.

- “And what made you think I’d want you? Because we kissed? Hah! How cute.” Meanwhile, he’s in his room pining himself to shreds.

- Watches you sleep constantly. Doesn’t matter where you are or how far, he will trek through your window or into your bed to watch you snore quietly against your pillow. He likes the vulnerability of it and acting as your ‘protector’, like you have no choice but to rely on him in this state.

- You are the last person Jeff wants to break down in front of, but when it eventually happens, and you’re there with open arms- the killer can barely breathe from how full his heart feels. The feeling of just being able to sob and bury into your shoulder while you rub his back is incomparable.

- Possessive AND protective to a fault. Wants everyone to know you’re his, but at the same time, really enjoys when you flaunt yourself so he can stare down the wandering eyes and really show them who they’d be messing with. Either way, eats it up when you feel good about yourself and safe in him.

- Nasty, terribly toxic relationship. You both bounce off of each other and are constantly arguing, but you both get over it because you’ve grown codependent. There’s nothing ‘casual’ about the two of you, you’re either fuck buddies or desperately clawing at each other for survival. Jeff is an obsessive guy, he either wants everything to do with you or he’ll hide away and tear himself apart over you.

- Jewelry is such a yes for him. If you’re wearing thick earrings or chunky necklaces that brighten your face, he eats it up. He’s such a sucker for silver.

- Does not ask for kisses, he takes them.

- “C’mon baby, I can’t help it. You’re just so fun to mess with.”

- Since he doesn’t sleep much, likes to lay on his back while your head rests on his chest/shoulder. He’ll tangle his fingers through your hair or brush your cheek with his thumb while he stares at you or the ceiling. Even when he has doubts about you loving him, your body always subconsciously shifts towards him while you’re snoozing, and it makes him feel just a little better.

- Fake punches/hits you when he’s bored. Will hold his hands up and box at your face but never making contact, just enough to have you side-eye him. He thinks it’s funny.

- Shoulder kisses.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Can and will touch you inappropriately no matter the circumstances. His rough hands groping your ass or shoving between your thighs to give flirty little touches in front of everyone, his shit-eating grin when you get embarrassed.

- “Stop glaring, sweet cheeks. I know you want me.”

- Will fight to his dying day that he’s a top, but as soon as you even give him a glint of dominance or snap at him, he’s folding so fast. Dominant person, submissive lover.

- Killing machine on the field, pathetic ass bottom in bed. It takes forever to get to that point, but once he’s mentally checked out and half-drooling on the mattress, he’s so pliable and lightheaded he’ll take it with ease. You have to really work for it, but Jeff trusts you/wants it bad enough subconsciously that he’ll force himself to go into a subspace.

- All-time favorite position is laying you out on your back, one leg up on his shoulder while the other is being held down at your side. It really opens you up and gives the nastiest, most lewd noises that have him pussydrunk. Bonus points for reaching a hand in to choke you.

- “And to think you were beggin’ me to stop while your pussy is soaked. I mean, look at you, babe. You’re suckin’ me in somethin’ awful.”

- CHOKING. Either you or him, he gets off on it so bad. Choking you is so satisfying, he loves the resistance and struggle as you gasp for air, face flushed and eyes rolling with his fist around your throat. Meanwhile, if you’re choking him, his body nearly convulses from the pleasure. He loves the lightheadedness and pressure of it, hoarse chuckles as both of your hands grip around his neck and just squeeze. He thinks he could cum just from being strangled.

- “What’s wrong, baby? Lil’ too much? Ah- You’ll get over it, just open up f’me.”

- Hair pulling, strangling, biting, smacking—really anything that’ll cause pain.

- Standing side-by-side in the mirror, his body is littered with nasty cuts and scars while yours is littered with pretty bite marks and hickeys. He loves it.

- Eating you out is so tiring, but it’s all worth it to look up and see your heavy, glassed-over eyes beaming down at him, lips parted as you’re gasping.

- Hard, quick thrusts that have you gasping and yelping. His hips snap against yours rhythmically until you throw your head back, then he leans in close and shifts his knees closer to really speed up. He never has a set pace, but prefers always adjusting to whatever has you making the most noise.

- “C’mon… Louder- Hah- I’m not stoppin’ till you’re cryin’ for it.”

- A bitch fight every time you two get together. Bickering with the other about ‘who can last longer’ or ‘going until you beg for it’ and it irritates the shit out of both of you. Gets you both riled up that you’re more fighting than fucking, but by the end, you’re both dead exhausted and reduced to panting messed laid out on top of each other.

- Refuses to pull out. He can’t get you pregnant, Slender made sure of that (God help if this heathen was allowed to procreate), so it’s either in your cunt, ass, or mouth, nowhere else. Even if he’s jerking himself off, he’ll wait to cum until he can get to you and finish himself out.

- Stands over you and stares hard enough until you’re reduced to your knees, words never even leaving his lips before you’re unbuckling his belt and shifting his jeans down. He’s fought you enough, sometimes you like to just be good for him.

- Pulling him in by his belt >>>>>>>>>

- Eating you out or sucking you off so much that drool leaks from his scars, eyes so hazed and soft as he hums and moans against you.

- “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

- Fucked you with the handle of his knife because you read something about it in a book and wanted to see if it actually felt good. He was weirded out at first, but when he watched you jerking your hips and mumbling for him to fuck you, he’s never fucked his cock in faster while rubbing the blunt of the handle against your drooling clit. Same thing with running the blade against your skin. It just elicits some reaction out of you that he can’t understand, but it turns him on terribly.

- Has a big thing for cop x prisoner roleplay actually.

- “What? Officer, how am I supposed to finger you with these handcuffs, hm? I guess you’ll just have to let me go, yeah? Or do you not want it as bad as your pussy leads me to believe?”

- Really loves fingering you while he’s buried in your ass. Curling his fingers up to make you arch your back just a little more, having your head spinning from the overstimulation… yeah.

- A 2-3 round champion. He’ll never be able to just cum once and be satisfied, regardless if you’re ready to stop or not, he’s forcing his cock back into wherever it was or in a completely different hole and riding himself out to his next orgasm. If he’s not shaking and on the verge of passing out after sex, it wasn’t good enough for him.

- “Jeff, stop! We could get caught!” “Or you could just shut up and take your panties off. You’re soaked, there’s no point in fighting me when I’m already this hard… C’mon, baby, give me your hand or something…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[writetheidea]

In the Quiet of Us

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. This one was more of a spur-of-the-moment idea, but I hope you still find it enjoyable. As always, I have anonymous ask available for those who would like to express their opinion anonymously.

Pairing:  Lando Norris x named!female character

Plot: Lando Norris learns to navigate his girlfriend's hesitation with physical affection, patiently helping her open up and show love in her own quiet, touch-starved way.

Tag: fluff.

Word count: 1697

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

The girlfriend has a name as I wasn’t able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.

Lando Norris had always been an affectionate person, and anyone close to him would tell you the same. Whether it was a warm hug after a tough day or a playful nudge to break the silence, Lando found comfort in touch. Friends and family alike knew he’d be the first to throw an arm around your shoulders, squeeze your hand for reassurance, or wrap you in a bear hug when you needed it most. For Lando, physical closeness wasn’t just a part of life—it was his language, one he was fluent in and spoke without hesitation.

But when it came to Evie, Lando soon realized that physical affection wasn’t something she was used to. She wasn’t cold or distant—quite the opposite, actually—but there was a quietness to her, a shyness that kept her hands tucked in her lap rather than reaching out. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be close to him; he could see the way her eyes softened when he touched her, how her breath would hitch when he leaned in a little too close. But there was always a hesitation, a space she kept between them.

Their first date had been sweet and simple, a quiet dinner followed by a walk in the park. At one point, he’d offered her his arm, hoping she’d take it. But instead, she’d simply smiled and slipped her hands into her pockets. At the end of the night, as they said goodbye, he leaned in for a kiss. She blushed a deep pink, her hands clutching her purse as though it was the only thing keeping her steady. Her hesitation caught him off guard. He’d pulled back, a soft smile on his face to cover the moment’s awkwardness, but she didn’t move away. It was as though she wanted to be closer but didn’t know how to reach for him.

As the weeks passed, Lando began to notice the small ways Evie responded to his touch. She wouldn’t reach for his hand, but she’d linger if he held it. She wouldn’t initiate a hug, but once he pulled her into his arms, she’d hold on tight, pressing her face into his chest like she was grounding herself in his warmth. If he brushed her cheek with his thumb or let his fingers graze hers, her cheeks would flush, her lips parting in a soft, unsure smile. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be close—it was just that she wasn’t sure how to be.

It stung a little at first. Lando had always been so open with his affection, so ready to give, but he quickly realized that Evie just wasn’t used to it. And as he got to know her, he could see how deeply she cared for him in all the ways that didn’t involve touch. She’d make him laugh until his stomach hurt, stay up late just to talk about their days, remember every small detail he shared with her. He saw kindness in her every action, even in her hesitance. And whenever he held her, no matter how shy she seemed, she never pulled away.

She wasn’t rejecting him; she just wasn’t sure how to express her feelings through touch. But that didn’t stop him from being patient, from offering her the space she needed while still trying to show her how much he cared in his own way.

Then, as the months passed, Lando started noticing something else. A pattern, little signs that showed she was trying to be close in her own quiet ways. She’d poke his shoulder after a joke or hold her hand up for a high-five with a shy smile, only to linger a second too long. These gestures became more frequent—small touches, like a light brush of her fingers over his, the faintest hint of a hand on his arm. It dawned on him, in the sweetest way, that this was Evie’s version of physical affection. A high-five, a gentle nudge, an extra glance over her shoulder as he watched her laugh with his family. Each small touch felt like her way of reaching out, even if it didn’t look like much to anyone else.

And Lando loved it. Every high-five, every poke on his shoulder felt like a step forward, like she was learning how to show what she felt in her own way. He noticed that these gestures would come at the sweetest moments—after they’d had a laugh, or when she was watching him with that soft, shy smile of hers, or during the quiet times when they were just being near each other. He realized that Evie wasn’t distant at all. She was just... a little touch-starved, perhaps too used to holding back.

So he decided he’d help make up for all the love she hadn’t had, all the closeness she never felt she could ask for. He started pulling her close more often, wrapping her in warm hugs, brushing kisses over her temple whenever he could. She’d always hesitate at first, that little spark of nervousness in her eyes, but then she’d melt into his arms as if they were the safest place in the world. And every time, he’d whisper soft words of affirmation, making sure she knew how much he loved her, how happy he was just to hold her.

---

One afternoon, while they were sitting together in silence, Lando reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Evie’s ear. She looked at him, her eyes soft and a little uncertain, and he couldn’t help but smile. He liked the way she looked at him, like she was always just on the verge of saying something but couldn’t quite find the words.

“You’re so cute when you blush,” he teased gently, his fingers brushing over her cheek.

Evie turned pink, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I... I’m not good at this, Lando,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Being close... I’m just not sure how to... I don’t want to mess it up.”

Lando’s heart ached at the sadness in her voice. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “Evie, you don’t have to know how,” he said softly, his voice filled with love. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me love you. Let me hold you.”

She met his gaze, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and slowly, she leaned into his touch, allowing him to pull her close. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, as if he were the only steady thing in her world.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so soft, he almost couldn’t hear it. “For being patient with me.”

“You’re worth every second,” Lando murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He meant it with all of his heart.

---

As time passed, Evie began to open up in small, quiet ways. She started to initiate small gestures, things she’d never done before. She would reach for his hand when they watched a movie, her fingers gently curling around his. She would rest her head on his shoulder, her breath soft against his neck. Each small touch was a quiet declaration of her love, her way of showing him that she was learning how to trust in the closeness they shared.

One morning, as Lando was making breakfast, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind. He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the warmth of her embrace. But then he relaxed, covering her hands with his and smiling as his heart swelled. They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, and for the first time, Lando felt like they had finally found a rhythm together—one that didn’t need words, one that was just about being there for each other.

Each day brought something new—a gentle touch, a small kiss, a hesitant hug. She would press a kiss to his cheek, rest her head on his chest as they lay together, ask him to hold her on days when she felt vulnerable. Every gesture made his heart swell, and he made sure she knew how much he cherished each one. With every forehead kiss, every squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, never a burden.

---

In the quiet moments that followed, Lando never stopped showing Evie how much he loved her. With every soft kiss on her forehead, every gentle squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, one he treasured deeply. And in return, Evie began to understand that love didn’t need to be loud or perfect—it just needed to be there, in every little gesture, in every quiet moment they shared.

One quiet evening, after a long day, they found themselves on the couch, wrapped up in each other and a warm blanket. The TV played softly in the background, but neither of them paid much attention. Evie was nestled against Lando’s side, her fingers tracing slow patterns over his hand, her head resting against his shoulder. He felt her breath even out, and he looked down to find her gaze soft and peaceful, a contented look he was coming to cherish. It was a peaceful silence, one that spoke volumes.

After a while, Evie lifted her head and looked up at him, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Do you think I’ll ever be as good at this as you are?” she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Lando gave her hand a gentle squeeze, smiling at her with a warmth that held no expectation, only love. “You’re already everything I need, Evie,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Just as you are.”

She leaned back against him, her fingers curling around his as she closed her eyes, content. And for the first time, they didn’t need words to feel how much they meant to each other. They had found their own way, and it was perfect.

In that silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew that love could be quiet, soft, and yet, more than enough.

[betterbemeta]

I think this is a good point and i want to add onto it. I don't think that humans are 'just wired to need spirituality' even if the above statements are pretty true, more like... our world right now avoids and outright destroys relationships with serious concepts we often use spirituality or philosophy to tackle. They are too scary and make people unwilling to submit to The Grind.

one of these concepts is death.

now I don't know everything. but as an example, almost all reactionary bullshit is absolutely terrified of death politics, because death is a serious thing that requires serious collective decision-making.

Reactionary structures like fascism often scramble to build a grand [non spiritual, power-allocating] mythology that is death-proof. They absolutely don't want to cope with how in a single instant even 'the right kind of person' can become inanimate unthinking hamburger.

The 'reaction' in 'reactionary' is to emancipation, which increases the power of human lives. Reactionaries don't want that, because of what people can choose to do with that power. Which in their eyes is nothing humanist or mutual but the freedom to kill you at will. (I guess the structure of exploitation provides a 'framework of immortality' for its owners by extracting security from its victims?)

Not all death politics are that violent, but death is the point at which a human's expression of power is permanently over.

Yeah this freaks us out. sorry if I did just now. It's just a freaky concept, that the world is really real and keeps being real after your perception of it stops and you're not here with us anymore and that's true for EVERYONE. People who don't like us thinking or coping with that context or making humanistic decisions based on it will have to invent some truly wacky bullshit to supplant a relationship with something mandatory.

And i don't want to say this is all on the shoulders of an individual or that some personal journeys can fix our political situation. But the mass discouragement of healthy engagement with 'spiritual' topics has collective consequences, in my opinion. if you rot without actually developing a radically accepting and compassionate relationship with our shared Scenario as human beings... you're gonna be that much more vulnerable to fearing:

'the end of the world/collapse of society.' ("death, but like Big Version")

'irresistible loss of control.' (all feelings of helplessness become 'life or death')

'the decay of what was once good' (terror of handling the corpse of a prior, secure way of seeing the world)

'what people really are inside.' (fear that because other people ARE ALSO meat, they KNOW you're mortal and therefore can't be trusted NOT to hamburger you)

'it's them vs. us.' (All that matters is that both parties are able to die and one 'must.')

And these are just the ones that have to do with 'death.' There are probably other spiritual or philosophical topic relationships that reactionary politics distorts. but for somebody out there, Game Over doesn't mean someone seeing their skeleton. it means the loss of their wealth which IS something that could outlast human bones.

things we need to address:

gen z men getting pulled into alt-right pipelines through andrew tate, joe rogan, elon musk, jordan peterson etc

the gullibility and stupidity of half the country voting against our collective best interests

the broad effect social media has on public and common good

lazy minds and lack of empathy

outside-country interference (trump and elon’s connections to russia and the amount of bots from other countries spreading misinformation)

the long-term effects of AI and rampant disinformation

[jamorbital]

👇

If you'd like to make your own donation to the ACLU, you can do so here. My wife made a $500 donation to the TransOhio Emergency Fund (we've got a friend over there). The Trevor Project is also good.

I rarely speak out on serious topics, partly because I think it will look silly next to my drawings, and partly because I prefer to keep a space where people can get away from that stuff. I know you guys are not here to listen to my personal opinions. Still, I'm making an exception just for today.

Trans friends: Whatever happens, remember that you are never alone. You are not powerless. There are countless people who recognize your humanity, and we will continue to stand by you and fight for you no matter what.

Steady as she goes. 🏳️‍⚧️

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

It’s been one of those days. It’s Time for me to violently defend stephanie brown on the internet beyond what should be considered reasonable or good.

I saw an older anti stephanie brown post which blamed Steph for Robin #87 (when Bruce reveals Tim's secret identity to Spoiler and offers to train her) and all the comments and reblogs and whatever were ragging Steph and it pissed me off and it made me sad so I'm going to break down why being mad at Stephanie for something Bruce Wayne did is insane, why Stephanie is genuinely in the right, and why having the same opinion as Alfred "boy mom" Pennyworth is embarrassing.

This ones gonna be more rambly and less analysis like than my other Steph posts for the record, I just kinda need to get this off my chest.

Let's break it down.

When Batman first brings Steph onto the team as Spoiler he tells Steph Tim's secret identity. When Tim finds out his secret was told to her, he freaks out. Tim's perspective is super understandable. He feels betrayed by Bruce, because he didn't even consult or ask Tim first, a clear betrayal of Tim's trust and the supposed equality of their partnership. Especially in light of how much Tim feels he has sacrificed to keep Bruce's secret.

But lets look at the situation from Stephanies perspective. Because she is just NOT at fault here.

Here are the facts: Stephanie is approached by Batman, who has in pretty much every interaction beforehand been cold and dismissive, and who she expects to tell her to quit being Spoiler again.

This man has only ever shown an ounce of approval towards Steph's vigilantism one time before this, for like one line in Stephs very first appearance. For him to be asking her for help sets off serious alarm bells. Steph is "really scared" when Batman asks for her help to find Robin.

Robin #84

Furthermore, its important we don't take Batman at his word here. Bruce is withholding information, something he does with Steph a LOT. He says "no one" knows where Tim is, and in Robin #87, he clarifies that Robins transmitter went dead.

Robin #87

"No one" is an exaggeration of epic proportions, given that Batman has not checked Tim's boarding school, or contacted Alfred, the location which it is overwhelmingly likely he is at, and the person who would be able to check extremely easily.

Robin #87

Because Bruce didn't want to go to Brentwood himself and run into Alfred, or have to speak to Alfred, on account of their fight in Officer Down, he sends Steph.

While the fear and worry Steph is portrayed with in Robin #84 doesn't really carry over to #87 (one of the numerous inconsistencies between these two issues) the fact of the matter is Steph is misled by Batman about the stakes of Tim being missing, which she is led to believe are much higher than they are.

In addition to this, Stephanie was under the impression that Tim was only ever holding back his secret ID soley because of Batman's wishes, that Tim was just waiting on Batman to change his mind.

Robin #56 #75 #82 #62

Tim will assert this is true later, and he certain says this is true beforehand.

If he's telling the truth, he doesn't have an issue with Steph knowing his identity. He has an issue with Batman telling her without checking with him first.

How is Steph supposed to infer this?

Steph has no reason to think it's important that Batman checks with Tim, because Tim has made it abundantly clear to her that he does want her to know but has just been waiting on Batman's approval.

Let's look how Steph acts when she meets Robin knowing his identity for the first time.

Robin #87

Steph enters the situation seeming to believe Tim will feel happy for her and relieved that their relationship no longer has to be as one sided as it has been. She still leaves room for Tim potentially having conflicted feelings, by mentioning she "hopes" that it's okay with Tim that she's finally on the main team. Tim, as mentioned early, freaks out.

Again, Tim's frustration is understandable. But let's look at Steph's dialogue for a second.

Robin #87

She says "we can be together now". This is weird and really interesting choice, because Tim and Steph have been dating for the entirety of No Man's Land and over the course of her entire pregnancy. This is a substantial amount of time. So what does Steph mean by "now"? There are two explantations.

Steph and Tim were not on speaking terms before this, because Steph was under the impression Tim had been cheating on her. He isn't cheating, but it surprisingly never gets resolved. Like the many other threads which were brought up in Robin #84, it gets completely ignored in Robin #87 and onward. Steph could be referring to the fact that she believes they couldn't be together because he was supposably cheating, but now that she knows his secret identity, he has no reason to cheat anymore. This is a super flimsy idea however, and given the fact that no character brings up how Steph believes Tim was cheating with Star after Robin #84, the logical conclusion is that it was either resolved off screen, or retconned.

The second explanation is much stronger. Steph says "now" because despite the fact that they have been dating for so long, their relationship has been extremely unbalanced. She's been closed off to half of Tim's life, something she agrees to when they first get together, but clearly has taken a toll on her. To the point she says "now" because, to her, the relationship never really truly started.

Robin #80

This isn't a stupid or petty complaint, for the record. Tim has seen her at her worst, he was there for there immediately before and after childbirth, but she doesn't get to know anything about an entire half of his life. This is especially true when you consider much Tim was in control of their communication.

He can show up at her house anytime, but if he doesn't initiate contact Steph's on her own. In Robin #80 for instance, Steph is presumably just hopping around rooftops hoping to bump into Tim, because she has no other way to find him.

Robin #87

And after Steph expresses excitement that they can finally be in the balanced relationship, a real relationship, she is rebuked with a violent "No!" that she seems to lean away from. And in the next panel, she asks, confused: "What?" in a small speech bubble which gets entirely ignored. In fact, neither Batman or Robin speaks to, or even addresses directly Stephanie for the rest of the encounter.

When Robin storms off without even a look to Stephanie, Stephs reaction is (big Shocker) to blame herself. Batman uses neutral language to place the blame on Tim, stating that Tim feels betrayed. In direct contrast, Steph actively disagrees, clarifying that Tim was betrayed, and more than that, she directly places the blame on both her and Batman's shoulders.

Robin #87

But Stephanie is a prop in the plot. Tim doesn't yell at her, he runs from her. Because she isn't Stephanie Brown, his girlfriend who has been in a massively unbalanced relationship, who is overjoyed at finally getting to be in a "real" relationship with him, she's the person Batman told Tim's identity to. He's not angry at her, he's angry she knows his identity and Bruce didn't bother to ask if Tim could tell her. He's angry at Batman. This conversation, this whole drama, is about the partnership between Bruce and TIm.

Stephanie Brown, who believed Tim was just waiting for the Batman go ahead, had no reason to think Tim would be anything but as happy as she was. Importantly, Stephanie Brown is seriously just not to blame in this situation, even if she blames herself (which as I've discussed before, is a running theme with her characterization, her low self-esteem and occasional tendancy to blame herself for the actions of others).

Not to mention, Tim doesn't blame Steph either. So if you're reading Robin #87 and somehow coming to the conclusion that Steph is a monster, please reassess.

Robin #92

How does Alfred factor into this? I'll make it quick.

Robin #88

Oh no Alfred, I'm so sorry that your loyalties to Master Timothy run so deep that you HAVE to yell at the teenaged girl who was more of a prop than anything in that encounter and had no reason to think Tim would be hurt. Oh no, really that must be so hard for you. Well, at least we know he's consistent, I'm sure if he's this mad at Stephanie, he's fucking fuming at Bruce Wayne, right? Right? Right?

No, of course not. Alfred Pennyworth, hypocrite extraordinaire is out there actively defending Bruce to Tim. Which no one asked him to do.

It's all "in his defense" and "you knew the perils" and "master bruce's crusade ill afford the delicacy of privacy required in affairs of the heart" and "stop feeling sorry for yourself"

I cannot believe he has the gall to yell at Steph for this. Talk about wounding Master Tim deeply bro, just wait until its Tim's 16th Birthday Party and Alfreds applying his stupid latex mask with a smile on his face. Sorry Alfred, you’re not always wrong, but when you’re wrong you’re really wrong.

That’s all. Goodnight 🌙

[wombatwisdom]

Great and Spacious

I

When I came out at work, I simply changed my pronouns in my email signature and on zoom. Immediately a co-worker reached out and asked if I changed my pronouns, and I said yes and she was excited for me.

Within two days others noticed too and the reaction was professional and compassionate--I felt seen, supported, and safe. My people manager and I met and we discussed the systems in place and the resources available, she didn't really understand what being trans or non-binary really was, but she knew what policies of inclusion had been put in place by corporate and in our local office to support me. She was open with me and always supportive--even after she left for other opportunities, we still stay in contact.

It was not perfect. Bathrooms were tricky, due to the lack of single occupancy options. Some if my co-workers still mis-gendered me. But I've had people apologize when they get it wrong and do better. And knowing I have the support of so many that I work with helps me navigate the small group of less agreeable co-workers (and to be clear, I've never had anyone aggressively disrespect me).

But the real proof in the pudding is how non-performative the support is. I am not the "token office trans", I am part of the team, fully integrated. My opinions and questions are considered and appreciated. People have told me they enjoy collaborating with me. In many ways, despite transitioning in plain sight, I have never felt that it was a source of burden or concern in my workplace.

II

When I came out at church, I wrote a letter. It was detailed and gruesome. It highlighted my disphoria, my anguish, my pain. I had seen the stories of other trans people crushed by the wheel of leadership roulette and knew I had to be clear and deliberate in my language. The letter was hard to write and hard to read, so I am told. I needed to focus the reader on my pain in attempt to appeal to their sympathy.

I sent the letter to my Bishop; I was Ward Clerk at the time. He was kind. He genuinely took my letter and read and thought and prayed. He prayed for two weeks, and I prepared for the worst. Obviously, the temple recommend would be gone, with it the calling. Hopefully, there wouldn't be too much blowback on my family.

Finally we met, and we spoke for hours. His position was that he didn't feel like this should matter--in his mind being non-binary was fine and I was still worthy of a temple recommend. He said he had read the handbook so many times (which at the time was pretty sparse on how to work with non-binary people, arguably it still is) and felt like he wasn't sure what to do. Due to his upbringing as a non-member he felt like he has known many queer people who were good and deserving of love and he wished the Church were different. He is one of the good ones, but even still, I was at his discretion and thankfully he was benevolent.

My Stake President needed a month with my letter. He has never known a trans person before me and admitted to being at a loss. He, too, prayed and read the handbook and also felt the same confusion my Bishop had expressed. We had only one meeting, where he said that my femme presentation was not in alignment with holding the priesthood and would not sign off on my recommend. He was kind, but firm and I was frank in return. I asked him to draw the boundaries and lines--could I speak in classes? Could I pray, if asked? What callings could I hold? Could I give talks? Bare my testimony? Wear garments? Take the sacrament?

I could tell he was uncomfortable with my questions, but I needed to know so that I could be safe. I let him decide, and he was generous, I could do all those things, just not hold a temple recommend and my calling.

My Bishop was upset at the news. We would meet more times and he would express his frustration at the outcome. I was released from my calling, which felt like a public shaming, and I wasn't ever asked to pray, or speak, or teach. My new calling was to prepare the weekly bulletin--and I did, and I made sure that all my quotes were from female leaders (a fact that no one ever noticed).

I was thanked profusely for showing up and staying. People were kind but uncertain and it showed. Some were kind in ways that felt unnatural and disingenuous. My Bishop often told me of the complaints he got for not being harsher with me. A couple told him they would no longer attend while I was permitted to come and take the Sacrament. Another man told him the I suck the spirit out of the room just by being there.

There were some who were angry for me and how things had unfolded. There were a mix of people with a mix of reactions. They had no guidance or support in how to integrate me into their community. I was at their mercy. I didn't feel empowered to participate, I felt like a problem needing to be dealt with.

III

I share these two experiences to highlight a disparity. My workplace experience has been smooth and a delight. Policies were in place to give direction and support to those who needed it and I was still treated as a respected member of my team. When I asked my team leaders if they wanted me to not interface with clients, they said if that ever was a problem to talk to them and they would handle it.

My experience at church was the opposite. It was grueling, exhausting, and soul crushing. I watched people struggle to know what to do with me. It was messy and frustrating.

In one of our many conversations, my Bishop mentioned that he has clients that he works with that use they/them pronouns and he tries to be inclusive. It made me realise that many of the people at church likely come from workplaces similar to mine that have policies, guidance and systems in place for trans clients and co-workers, so they know how to behave in the work place. But at church, it was everyone for themselves, and it was disappointing.

At church, a lot is said about the world, the great and spacious building, Babylon. We are told to fear it and to believe that the world is mocking us and trying to do harm. But I have seen a world that behaves with compassion, empathy, and love--one that I didn't have to fight for acceptance or give my agency and pain away to a man across the desk from me.

The great and spacious building has come up with a lot of the philosophies our Church has rejected and now is trying to catch up to. But it pains me when people say that the members and leaders don't know any better--because they need only look up and outward to find places of inclusion to model themselves after. My workplace did it, likely without God's inspiration, so why, with God does it take us so long?

There are places of refuge out here in the world--community is what you cultivate. Our leaders and members are not innocent lambs ignorant of what is around them--but there is a cultivated ignorance that permits them to wallow in the mire of their biases. I was there once too. It is comforting to never have to open your eyes or confront your ignorance--but the world can help us do it.

Perhaps the great and spacious building isn't the pejorative we make it out to be. Perhaps it is truly great and decidedly spacious enough to incorporate all of God's children. Perhaps not. I only have my experience--but I have seen both the world and the church in action, and I can say with confidence, which more readily offered me fruit to sustain life.

[red-velvet-0w0]

okay so a lot of people seem to have not gotten what i was trying to say with this post so i just want to make my point clear

No, i do not believe a Vance presidency would be as bad as trump. yes Vance is just as bad a person as trump. however, without trump, he will not be able to command the same support as trump had. He is a competant grifter, but nowhere near on the same level as trumps ability to command attention, and I truly believe that the right would quickly fall to infighting over who would become the "Next Donald Trump", leading to them having a largely innefective term. you may dissagree with me, but this is my belief

Yes, i am aware that the "first trans congresswoman" is a zionist. no that does not detract from the point of the post. i am not saying that she is a perfect person. my point is that, no matter what this election might seem to demonstrate, people have started to change. i do not believe a decade ago that a trans woman could become congresswoman. like her policies or not, this does prove that even if it is slight, even if it doesnt seem as significant next to trumps victory, people have grown more accepting of trans people. No matter what trump might do in the next 4 years, the fact is that people have had time to meet trans people, to know trans people, to love trans people. Even if its only baby steps, and even if it might seem like were going backwards, trump cannot change that forever. it will take time, but I promise that while we are going to get set back, support for trans people will continue growing. we have made so much progress in the last few years, and we will continue doing so for years to come. Just remember that the opinions that make trump an extremist today are opinions that were considered the default not too long ago. He is an extremist not because he has grown more hateful, but because we have grown more tolerant, and he can only do so much to fight that.

TLDR: yes, there is hope, and we, trans people, queer people, POC people, Native american people, have made it so many years, and have fought so hard to get where we are today. we can survive 4 more years. we cant afford to just give up, we have to keep fighting

okay listen heres the thing

i was panicking too when i first woke up and heard the news and honestly i still am

but the facts are this

unfortunantly, Donald trump won the election, However:

Donald Trump is getting old as shit and while hes been doing a lot to hide it its going to start weighing him down

Donald Trump is the entire bedrock of the right at the moment, and once he is unable to continue being in office (whether he is impeached, he dies, or simply becomes too old to manage everything) the right will lose a lot of the support it has

A trans woman is in congress

two black women are in congress

several states voted to protect abortion rights

And most importantly:

Even if he does set back LGBTQAI+ rights and minority rights of all kinds, we have been here before. no matter how vocal or active bigots are, I genuinely believe that overall people really have never been as supportive of minorities as they are now. we have made so much proggress in terms of acceptance and representation in just the last few decades, and even if he manages to take all of that away from us, we will come back. No matter how hard he tries, he can only hold back the proggress we have made in terms of acceptance we have made so far and only for so long. No matter how hard he tries, it will get better. We need to have faith that no matter what he does it will get better

[screams-in-writing]

When I hammer out another long one shot to an ask with a prompt:

I wrote this is in 1st pov, because I unabashedly enjoying writing Mr. Puzzles in this pov.

-

This was a disaster in the making.

I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to have you visit my home with me.

It only allowed let you to get close to Smg4 and his crew of miscreants!

You were even having fun with them!

Which I wanted you to, yes, and I loved the way you looked while having fun but…you were having fun without me!

Me!

I knew it was an eventuality that you’d meet Smg4 and the others in person, but I wasn’t prepared for all the dark thoughts and a tightening in my chest as I hung back and watched from a distance.

Jealousy?

Perhaps.

But wasn’t I allowed to feel that, when my only actual friend, someone who’d become more to me in such little time, was taken away from me, practically the instant you and I came to my home world?

Wasn’t I allowed to feel sucker-punched over the way you so quickly got along with so many of Smg4’s friends?

It didn’t seem fair.

Then again, you’d never caused them any psychological or physical harm, so of course Smg4 and everyone else didn’t seem to mind your presence.

But they certainly minded mine, if the mistrustful stares and accusing glares were anything to go by.

Because of this, I kept myself on the sidelines and just watched as you interacted as easily as I couldn’t after all I’d done with my past actions.

Apologies would only get me so far, and I doubted that Smg4 and many of his friends would be interested in forgiving me of my actions any time soon, if at all.

I was under no illusion that, were I to do anything that might be seen as aggressive, I’d be seen out of the showgrounds in an unflattering and likely embarrassing manner, no matter what you might say in my defense.

But I knew better now.

I knew that much of my previous interactions weren’t acceptable, while I was in your world, and was able to reflect on my actions and what I wanted to do going forward.

Here, I was very well aware that I had my work cut out for me.

When you went into the castle, I couldn’t help but want to follow, but remained outside.

I’d gotten the very clear message that I was I only being tolerated in the showgrounds for your sake. Though there was clearly distrust in that many didn’t believe I could ever have a real friend, let alone have an actual relationship.

Let them believe what they would.

I was more interested in your opinion than Smg4 or the others.

But therein lie one of my concerns.

What if your opinion of me changed if you spent too much time in the castle, talking to everyone else but me?

Despite me confessing to what I’d done, both behind the scenes as well as directly, I still held the low-burning fear that you might decide that the trauma that lingered with Smg4 and his friends might not be something you were willing to let slide after all, so long as I made an effort to make up for it, and apologize in my own time.

The longer I stood in front of the castle, the more I began to fidget nervously.

Would you stand up for me if I were to enter the castle uninvited?

I began to pace, the fidgeting and mumbling growing louder as static began to grow and layer over my voice when I spoke audible words.

Soon, I could simply no longer bear to wait out here for your return, so it was with a determined straightening of my posture, and squared shoulders, that I walked confidently to the front doors of the castle, and let myself in.

When I wasn’t immediately punched in my face, my confidence grew that I would be able to mask my presence, and be able to locate you.

Just to make sure you were all right, of course. 

One could never be too certain with that pesky plumber about.

Much to my pleasant surprise, it was so easy to find you, as you just so happened to exit one of the rooms.

By yourself.

A happy bounce entered my steps as I approached you, face flashing to a cheery technicolor smile and excited digital eyes. 

Oh, I couldn’t believe just how much I missed you just these past few hours. 

I was even happier when you smiled at me in return, even raising a hand to give me a little wave. I closed the distance between us, eagerly hoping that this meant that I could now spend time with you.

“Finally decided to come into the castle?” You asked, a slight reading tone to your voice.

“I don’t believe I’m exactly welcome here.” I replied with a soft sigh, reaching out to take the hand you offered to me. I pet the back of your hand with my fingers pensively.

“I do think that Smg4 is wary around you, but I can’t really say for sure about everyone else.” You move closer to give me a half hug with the arm that wasn’t having its hand gripped firmly.  “I haven’t exactly gotten to spend time with them before, apart from asking them about their…past interactions with you. So I’m just starting to get a feeling about who they actually are.”

I listened to you.

I really attempted to listen to you when you began to detail the things you’d noted in the past few hours, but all I could think was that I was slowly losing my time with you.

I needed to do something. 

I wanted you to pay attention to me.

I didn’t want to share you with the others if that meant that I would be spending less time with you, and therefore have attention from you. 

It was petty, childish, to think such things. 

You weren’t a toy to be stolen, and I knew that I had to respect that you wouldn’t spend all of your free time with me, as much as I loved having your undivided attention.

But I just couldn’t help myself. 

I needed some way to reassure myself that I wasn’t somehow losing you when you visited my home world going forward.

When you took a breath to continue on, and I saw that no one was in the area, I was quick to make my move. 

Using the hand around yours, I tugged you closer to my body, and in the same motion, hoisted you up and into my arms to lean into my chest. I chuckled when you ended up wrapping your arms around my neck with a gasp of surprise. 

Perfect.

And now, for somewhere to have a quick little heart to heart, before I ‘bottled’ things up and let the negativity in my mind get to me.

The closet.

Not the best place for a serious conversation, but it was a convenient place to lavish you my own undivided attention. 

“Mr. Puzzles, where are you-“ 

I hugged you closer to me, my television head crackling with static but unable to respond as I swiftly walked over to the door, and let myself into the closet. 

And locked it, the cramped dark room only lit by my screen, as I sat you down on a small desk in the corner of the closet.

I found myself unable to speak when you looked up at me, clearly exasperated with what I had just done, yet interested in what I had planned.

Leaning in closer, I braced my hands on either side of you, and rested my upper screen to your forehead as I just looked at you, my expression surely softening as you looked at me in return, with a bit of a squint from the light. 

Toning it down so you could look at me properly, my hands slid to press into either side of your hips. I pinioned you legs between mine as I boxed you in, curiously tilting my head to see if this was all right.

My answer was hands rising to either side of my metal head, and you turning your head to leave a lingering kiss to my screen.

Eagerly, I returned the kiss with a gentle spark of fuzz from my screen. 

When your arms went around the back of my wired neck, I growled low in my throat, the area of the spine still there with vocals, as well as my speakers. I hunched over you and slowly moved my screen to lay a series of kisses from your lips to either of your cheeks, and then slowly down the side of your neck. Just to tease you, I gathered enough static and concentration to layer the fuzz of my screen enough to make it feel like I ‘licked’ a stripe along the side of your throat.

“What’s wrong?” You asked me, a little breathlessly, as your fingers lightly dig into my wires. 

“Nothing.” I said a little too quickly.

“Puzzles.” You sighed into another quick kiss, before you let go of my neck to push me away enough to stare at my face. “You don’t usually do these unprompted make-out sessions unless something is wrong.” A pause. “You also wouldn’t normally want to do this unless there was no way someone would come to interrupt us.”

“They won’t.” I said. 

“We are in a castle that’s full of people. One of them is bound to notice I’m not back yet, and someone is likely to realize that you’re not outside anymore.” You pointed out, dropping your hands to press down into my one to prevent them from shifting to your thighs. “Please tell me?”

“I-“ Looking away, my shoulders slumping, I look back to you, with an admission. “I don’t want them to take all of your time away from me.”

“I’m not replacing you with them or anything, Puzzles.” You said after a moment, expression showing that you realized what exactly I feared without me even knowing that was what it was, in the end.

Being replaced.

Moving on.

Leaving me behind 

Alone.

I didn’t want to be alone.

“You won’t be alone.” You said, voice softening. 

I hadn’t meant to say that aloud. I didn’t like to admit that an old fear of mine was coloring my interactions with others, even after so many years had passed. 

“We can spend time together alone when you come to my home again. We could even hang out later today, here.” You tell me. “It would be kind of rude of me to be invited to hang out with smg4 and everyone but then not do that for at least a little while longer.” You sounded so reasonable.

And yet. 

And yet-

“I think several hours seemed to be enough time with them all.” I said immediately, desperately attempting to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I wasn’t jealous. I was jealous. “Why can’t you spent time with me right now? We’re already out of sight.”

“You’re doing it again, Puzzles.” You said in a firm tone, implying that I ought to pay very close attention to your words. 

I already was, because you were with me.

“The possessiveness over me and my time with you can’t go out of control like before. Remember? I can’t spent all of my free time with you every single day. We both need space for ourselves, and we need to be able to meet up and hang out with other people. Please don’t make me have to make those boundaries clear again by having us have to spend time apart for us both to cool off.”

I’m so torn.

“I know that.”

I don’t want to give up the extra time I had to spend in your company and yet-

“I know it is wrong of me to want to take up more of your time. To want to have all of your attention on me, and me alone.”

I was afraid. 

“I just don’t want to lose you.”

Afraid to be left behind.

“I…must admit that I do find it difficult to accept you interacting with my former adversaries, even if I was at fault for making them adversaries to me with…with my own actions. My plans.”

To be alone.

“I can’t…I can’t let that happen.” I found it harder to form words as I dissolved into the start of a panic. That perhaps I was overreacting to you hanging with Smg4 and his friends.

“Mr. Puzzles.” You cut in before the doubt could fully sink in. “Take a moment to breathe.”

I let out a hitch of an unsteady laugh.

“I know that you don’t actually need to breathe like I do but please take a moment and take some slow breaths?” You asked while I continued to let out unsteady breaths and little hitches of not so sane laughter. “I know you’re having trouble right now, so take some slow breaths, for me?”

That helped draw my attention back, enough that I freed one of my hands to rest on your thigh, while my other cupped one of your cheeks to trace my fingertips lightly along. 

A breath.

Another. 

I leaned my head to the side so that o could rest it lightly on your shoulder to do as you asked. 

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Slow.

Breathe. 

I ‘closed’ my eyes, focusing on slowing my breathing down to acceptable levels while I felt you begin to curiously pet me along the back of my shoulders. 

I let out a final noise of frustration, but breathed it out soon after while my breaths leveled out with facsimile huffs of breath in and out.

Once my breathing finally went back to normal, if one could call it that with someone who didn’t actually need that breath, I finally began to calm down.

Slowly, I lifted my metal head up, and leaned back so that I could gaze down at you. At the same time, you lifted one hand to rest over mine cradling the side of your face. I issued out a rather interested hum when your other hand moved to lightly grasp the fabric of vest and shirt just beneath my bow tie to give it a little yank as you met my digital eyes.

“Oh? What’s this?” I instantly gained a leer as I made as if I were biting my ‘lips’ with technicolor teeth, fixing you with a hooded look. “I thought you said that you ought to be handing out with those losers in the other room?”

“You’ve calmed down.” You pointed out while tugging the fabric again. “Do you feel a little more steady now?”

I gave it the thought it deserved from the concerned furrow in your brow. Then, I gave my metal head a tiny jerk of agreement. “Better, yes.” I issued out a moment later.

“Good.” 

You surprised me when you moved your hand from mine over your cheek, using it and the one fisted in my clothing to yank me closer to the desk. 

I leaned further in without further prompting as you planted a kiss that was much more heated than the one before. A kiss that lingered on my screen as I froze up briefly in surprise. 

“You can enjoy about five minutes of my presence before I go back and join the others” You said when you took a breath.

I couldn’t help it when my expression shifted to an unhinged one before it quickly flickered to heart eyes with a heart rate monitor. 

And a flush my technicolor grin widened and curved up in a stupidly happy manner.

Then, your words sank in and I shifted ever closer to you, as I uttered in a low tone that ended on a slight growl. “Oh, my dear, five minutes in a dark closet all alone with me, and I’ll be able to convince you to not leave me for the other’s company.”

Most unfortunately, I was unable to follow through with my promise. 

As it turned out, my luck had run out when it came to a certain Italian ruining my plans. 

The door to the closet bust open despite being locked. 

“Hello?” Mario peered inside curiously. “What’s-a going on here?”

I froze, as did you.

Even Mario went silent as he presumably took in the scene he’d walked in on.

Me, bracketing you in against a wall of the closet.

You, sitting on the desk in front of me.

I was currently leaned over you, crowding in to press into you, one hand lightly gripping your thigh while my other carefully cradled you behind your head, so you didn’t hit the wall and hurt yourself. 

Right before Mario had so rudely kicked the door in, I’d been eagerly  kissing you in return as best I could with little lingering static zaps. 

But the moment I processed Mario was there, interrupting me?

My metal head snapped to the side in a distressing angle on my wire neck. I fixed the plumber with an expression of upmost loathing that went ignored, much to my mounting exasperation.

“Ooooo.” Mario let out, as his face shifted from confusion to one of sly amusement. A smile beneath that damned mustache of his began to grow bigger by the moment. “Somebody’s-a being hands-on.”

I wondered, at times, just how stupid Mario truly was, or if he was acting like an idiot to not disrupt the status quo. In this very moment, I didn’t particularly care to pursue the thought, because I was much more concerned and irritated by the interruption than the comment.

Mario’s smile became a smirk as he suddenly lifted a phone, and, before I could move, or you could even say anything, the flash of the camera flared brightly in the dark closet, backlit by the light of the castle behind Mario himself. Humming his theme song, Mario pocketed his phone nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just taken a rather compromising photo of you and myself in a closet together. 

A photo…

I abruptly let go of you as Mario’s actions quickly sank in. I lunged for Mario without a word; just a furious expression and a warning static growl of wordless fury for Mario daring to intrude on alone time with you.

Unfortunately, so caught up in catching the culprit, I failed to notice you flail your arms and wince as you dropped backward into the wall.

Mario was wise enough to keep well out my grasping range. I continued to laser focus on attempting to catch the shorter man anyway. But because of this, I again failed to notice the way you emerged from the closet with a flushed face and the way you made a beeline right for me. 

I didn’t notice, until you finished sneaking up behind me and then yanked me backward by where my suspender straps met at the middle of my back. Futilely, I attempted to twist my head to one side then the other as you proceeded to walk, forcing me to follow or risk falling over and being dragged along the floor. My dignity wouldn’t allow that, so follow you I did.

“Bye-bye.” Mario said unnecessarily, waving. 

I was torn about easily slipping out of your hold to go continue to pursue that irritating Italian. But I relented and just matched your steps with my own, at least until I realized with a jolt that you had come to a halt outside of the room you’d emerged from earlier. 

“I don’t. I.  This likely isn’t the.” I stood in place, resisting your tugs for a moment as I attempted to explain why me in a room with Smh4 and all his friends want a good idea. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell you no when you opened the door, let go of my suspenders, and grasped one of my hands tightly instead. 

You might have given my shaking hand a reassuring squeeze.

But I was much too caught up over the reception I may receive. 

Keeping my gaze, and in turn my screen, on the floor meant that I didn’t have to focus on Smg4 and his crew’s initial reaction to me entering the room.

I kept quiet as you led me over to the couch and, remaining mute in the face of your expression between disappointment and pleading, sat down. I was pleasantly surprised when you end up on my lap, but not so happy that you won’t allow me to wrap my arms around you to hold you closer. Restlessly, I  grasped the couch cushion on either side of my legs, because as much as I’d like to hold you, I’d rather you stay near me instead. 

It appeared that this was done on purpose, as if this were your way of letting Smg4 and the others in the room know that you did want me around. 

That was how I chose to interpret it as. 

Mario reentered the room, going over to where Smg4 and 3 are, as well as Meggy and Tari, who were competing on some game. Mario glanced to you and I, then, in a loud whisper and a mischievous grin and in a loud whisper. “TV man is-a whipped, yes?”

“Yeah.” Smg4 agreed, without even having to look. “That tracks, with no one getting sucked into another Puzzlevision show lately.” 

“‘course he is.” Smg3 concurred. “It’s obvious.”

I twitched as if to get up to correct them, only for you to suddenly flop back into me. I was completely sidetracked as you comfortably rested yourself against my chest and shoulder, and even dragged one of my arms up to grasp my hand with one of yours. I gripped couch cushion harder with my other hand when you began to lightly pet me with your free head along the side of his metal head, lingering on the vent area.

“Totally whipped.”

“Yup.”

“Mmhm.”

A light scritch under my head’s casing had me  sagging forward into your touch, a soft sound into the touch. My digital eyes closed so that I could pretend, for a short time, that it was only you in this room with me.

I could handle the jabs at me, so long as you kept lightly tracing the outside of my metal tv head so gently.

And while I’d honestly rather just be all alone with you, this day turned out to not be as bad as I expected it to be, especially when no one demanded I get out, and I got to spend time with you, even in questionable company.

[pnfc]

here is some train-of-thought writing that came out today while i was thinking about labels/identity for d&p, sexuality and gender.

18+ for (brief) sex scenes, you’ve been warned, door is over there etc

When Perry laid out the realities of his private life to the Flynn-Fletcher family it was not, in his preplanning mind, a gay coming-out. That was like the 9th or 10th layer of the curtain he was pulling away in the grand reveal, a flimsy one attendant in its connection to Heinz Doofenshmirtz and all the messiness he embodied, mortal threats on Perry and tristate domination schemes and more than one cringeworthy viral video.

So it’s sweet and befuddling to Perry when Phineas and Ferb gift him a handknitted rainbow pride scarf for his birthday that year, maybe the last people he’d expect to take that particular tack.

“Phineas is really taking to Home Ec,” Ferb tells Perry as they refill at the coffee table. “I don’t mean to devalue our shared gift in your eyes, but he made that in just half a period, it was his first project. And I think,” Ferb continues in his low voice, as he retrieves the creamer for Perry. “He might be just a little excited to have a gay family member.”

That’s what Perry is, now that he and his connection with Heinz are out for the world to see. He’d never thought of it in those terms before, nor had Heinz used the word to describe their still-new romantic partnership. Perry’s gay and his former nemesis turned agent-partner is now his boyfriend, is the buzz at the office.

Perry thought it might have a welcome insulating effect, word spreading that Agent P isn’t into women, on an official basis this time. But it didn’t stop Agent Lyla from flirting at him, in fact seemed to goad her on, like Perry’s stony indifference to her was funny, fun to poke at. And it didn’t stop women from cooing over him in public, even with the enamel flag pin from Stacy pinned to his hat band -- again, that may have only exacerbated the situation.

But it did spare him from at least one Monogram holiday present, a profoundly haunting OWCA calendar starring female models in states of Christmassy undress, posed with plush animals. He’d yanked it back out of Perry’s hands, with what might have been bashfulness, and muttered “Gotta get a male model calendar for next year, too, so HR doesnt get on my keister. Carl! You’re in charge of the gay one.”

Perry accepted the designation of gay man, even if he didn’t feel it in his bones. It fit on him like a well tailored suit, the rainbow aesthetic was appealing, queer human history was deeply compelling and Stacy et al were so excited to share in his education on the subject, to share a place with him behind the marching banner. It affirmed Perry’s lifelong indifference to the human and non-human women he was assumed to feel attraction for. But it all felt a bit specious, since Perry harbored attraction for one person only. He couldn’t in a century feel for anyone else the way he does Heinz.

Still here he is, a man with a boyfriend, and if the fact that he’s a platypus threatens that definition, that opinion is not possessed by the people in his life who matter. So he’s gay.

Heinz shares Perry’s ambivalence around labeling, but out of a long legacy of experience that Perry lacks, so he’s a refuge in this. “Bisexual, yeah, that was the rage back in college,” he waxes nostalgic to Perry, during their nighttime couch convos. “The only way to be, unless you were a college republican finance major. But there’s pansexual now too, right? And so many flags -- Vanessa’s friends were over here trying to explain it to me. That girl Laci had so many flags on her bag, it was like the Olympics back there. Or like the last 50 years of Drusselstein regional flags from the warring states -- except like, in more colors than just grey and brown. Drusselstein had a serious dye shortage. They finally cut a deal with the Ukraine in 2006 for green, it was a real gamechanger, but it only complicated the flag design wars.”

“…Anyway it was fun to be bi, in the 80s,” Heinz says. He’s sprawled along the couch, Perry sitting against his bare bent leg, idly rubbing a paw around his knee. “Guys really put themselves together back then, they were electric. And if you slapped on enough liner and eyeshadow to partly obscure your weird shaped face maybe one of them would give you his number, if he had enough cocktails. And sometimes that number would even be legit.”

Pausing, Heinz looking up at the lofty ceiling, his head on the armrest. “I don’t know if I am bi anymore, Perry the Platypus,” he says with a note of regret. “Everyone’s just so sad now, so Linkedin and Panera Bread, even the evil scientists of the day are so sexless -- I dunno, maybe I’ve aged out of the crowd. Once I hit 30 it just seemed easier sticking with women. They can be a lot kinder, in my experience. Or at least more liable to pity a guy like me. Plus they’re, y’know, really hot -- trust me on that one, Perry the Platypus. So I dunno if I’ve got the right to be all ‘loud and proud’ just because I knew how to party in my 20s. …At least, I didn’t have the right for a good decade there.” Perry’s smirking across at him, elbow propped on the bend of Heinz’s knee. “You don’t need to give me that look,” Heinz scolds. “I know what you are to me. You don’t need to rub it in. “But, you know what I mean: you outgrow the bi phase, you get married, you work with a lot of cute dancers, accept an arduous future of heterosexual post-divorce dating efforts -- and then you, ah -- meet a very attractive platypus,” he says, struggling because Perry is pressing his hands into Heinz’s thigh, trailing a leisurely path upwards. “And it, uh. Gets confusing. …Oh my god, Perry.” His splayed leg shakes and he props it up on the back of the couch as Perry focuses on worsening the situation in his cotton workout shorts. He told Perry not to rub it in -- that’s always annoying, being told what not to do, what not to rub.

Despite all of Heinz’s wordy equivocating he is loud about Perry’s role in his life, the first to introduce Perry as his boyfriend or himself as Perry’s, though he tends to prefer the word partner, maybe for its alliterative quality. “Yes, Perry the Platypus is my partner,” is the line trod out to whichever party guest, since more often than not Perry is the one who needs no introduction. “And I mean romantic partner, just to be clear, so there’s no confusion. Because we used to be work partners too, and we still are. But we’re an item.” And if Heinz deems the partygoer in question to be sufficiently magnetic and therefore threatening he will follow this up with the even more unnecessary “So don’t even think about it.” Perry should find this more mortifying than he does, probably, except that it’s cut short conversations with a lot of people who turned out not to be worth Perry’s time. Quite efficient, letting your boyfriend trim the homophobic tallow off your social sphere with his blunt-sheared social crudity. More than one social blowout has turned into a furious makeout session back behind the venue, Perry dragging Heinz’s back down a brick wall so he can suck his tongue, so Heinz’s pleas of “Perry we’re parked right over there” muffle into whimpers under a canopy of evening cicada call.

Perry came up in OWCA right when they were transforming their internal messaging, making it superficially friendlier. Some changes were Carl’s well-meaning suggestions that became enshrined. “The agents shouldn’t be shamed out of exploring their natural desires,” was the gist of his plea to Monogram -- Perry retains a fuzzy memory of the scene, he couldn’t have been older than 3 then, was delivering a hot beverage to Monogram’s office as part of his daily duties. “Even the ones who aren’t, um… intact, they still feel things.”

“So we tell them not to. Anything less is insanity. It’s sick, Carl.” He took the heavy coffee from Perry’s hands. Perry’s palms were wet and burning. “The animals need to focus on one thing, and that’s the mission. Lord knows I don’t need to hear about whatever nasty business they get up to back at the zoo, in their off-hours. But we’re dealing with dumb, wild animals, Carl. We need to stamp out all that mating distraction with a vengeance. This is a war, Carl, against evil itself, and they’re humanity's front line.”

But Carl must’ve gotten something through, because the recruits younger than Perry endured less scare mongering around sex, fewer militaristic tirades from Monogram about the primacy of the fight and the evils of carnal temptation. Mono’s coffee mug featured a hula dancer whose bikini vanished at high temperatures -- it had always been difficult to take him seriously.

And one day they’d all been gifted a Carl-designed asexual pride tee, the OWCA logo in purple and grey, and a “Be who you are!” platitude written in Carl’s loopy cursive. This messaging was muddled to say the least. This was a human designation, asexuality, of which Perry had only partial comprehension -- and Carl seemed to be prescribing it to the agents even as his words encouraged free identity. But the design was nice, Carl had a flair for that -- the flag colors were classy and austere, not quite to Perry’s taste where t-shirts were concerned, but definitely suited to Heinz. Except Perry knew even back then that if any human pride flag fit Heinz, this was not it.

He still has that shirt bunched in the bottom of a drawer with the other old employee tees, including one with Carl’s face and chocolate stains on it. Maybe that human designation does fit Perry, in a certain technical sense. In the fall and winter. Seasons when he sits with Heinz watching trashy old 70s flicks that burgeon and bulge with more nudity than the plot demands. “You see how they filmed skin back then, Perry the Platypus?” Heinz will lament. “It’s crazy, her legs are like glowing -- people don’t look like this anymore.” He works himself up trying to explain the magic effect to Perry, while Perry just leans into his side and gazes up at him. Human attraction is cute, defanged like this, watching Heinz helpless in the thrall of some chainsmoking director’s bad movie about a city cop taking down apocalyptic gangs. And just to be mean Perry won’t touch Heinz’s hard-on -- but he’ll touch everywhere else, as the movie plays, nose his bill up the side of his shirt and kiss his hot skin, and he’ll watch Heinz shudder his way to breaking point, whereat he digs himself out of his pants and pulls himself off in a few fast strokes. Perry doesn’t need to get off to enjoy this. It satisfies just like the old thwartings. Perry’s just hitting other self-destruct buttons, on Heinz’s body -- he’s really one big button, if Perry’s honest, and Perry savors pushing it again, and again, and again.

So he could take or leave the labels. He likes that he and Heinz cut a different shape, one that doesn’t slot neatly into a human-made hole. But they mean a lot to the kids, Perry observes, as they grow into high schools and colleges, as they get passionate and motivated, as Vanessa breaks up with Monty and doesn’t look back. And Perry, Perry’s not even a person to so many of the humans he encounters, much less one with an orientation worth caring about. So it’s nice. He carries the cheery rainbow umbrella with the London skyline that Lawrence brought back from across the pond. He wears Ferb and Phineas’s snazzy rainbow scarf, Stacy’s hat pin. It’s not borne deep in Perry’s bones, this identity, but it’s a lovely accent, fortified by the people he loves. No depth required.

Which is why it does not seem too jarring, many years in the future, a decade onward, when his partnership with Heinz looks different. After they’ve danced through years of late night karaoke, hitting up gay bars and the vanishingly rare sapient-animal-friendly club, both of them growing loose and happy in their linkage to each other, holding each other’s hands and feeling the clink-clink of their rings. It was just more playtime for both of them, Heinz bustling around Perry to deck him out in 70s throwback fits with the big cheesewedge collars and migraine stripes, Perry standing tiptoe to zip up Heinz’s dress as he sits craned forward on the floor, holding frizzy wig ringlets out of the way, before Perry smooths his hands out across Heinz’s shoulders and he lets the hair bounce back down.

It’s still play, maybe, until the year that Heinz’s mousy hair is long and shoulder-brushing. Perry lounges in the balcony hammock with one hand trailing on the ground, as he watches Heinz pull it up into a ponytail before tearing into a vintage radio repair, an ongoing collaboration with Lawrence. And something that wasn’t serious now is, because even now, dressed down in oil-stained sweats and a holey tee, with wispy silver hair and no 80s eyeshadow on to obscure her charming face, Perry sees that she’s beautiful.

Perry wants to tell her this, when they’re getting in from an anniversary dinner out. He has the words in his hands, he’s already told her several times, because she needed to hear it those first few staggering attempts to hit the daytime streets in skirts, that she looked right in them, looked cute. Perry says it differently now, as he presses her down into the pillow with a hand, leaning across her skinny torso. Heinz’s natural hair fans the pillow, heat-curled and sprayed for the special night. Perry presses his soft bill to her forehead, trails down to her rouged cheek, further down to her lips, where her plum purple lipstick looks black in the dark. Perry says it with hands down her face, trailing into her soft hair and gripping it tight as she touches him. He says it with clawmarks trailing up her thighs and snapping the net of her tights as he swallows her down, the ritualistic tearing of Heinz’s fabric newly modified into a synthetic cherry pop, and if in the dark beads of blood flower up under his claws Perry licks them too, with love and apology, with a want to get more of Heinz into him. And he says it one more time when she’s asleep and curled around him like the crescent moon, and he reaches in to unhook her earrings, puts them on the nightstand.

Is Perry gay now, when the shape of him and Heinz seems so the same, despite her changes? Well, it’s not the most pressing question. It’s hard enough contemplating how Perry will introduce his girlfriend to his family, when he used to swear up and down the day would never come. But not girlfriend, wife, and not wife, partner -- so he’s circumvented it rather ingeniously, actually, a fact he hopes Phineas and Ferb appreciate. They decide to do it that week, packing the fixed-up radio and a few fresh loaves of zucchini bread, decoratively ribboned, into the truck. Perry helps smooth Heinz’s hair in the driver’s seat, and Heinz smooths her floral skirt down before taking off the brakes. Perry adjusts his hat in the mirror, and judges the scarf around his neck. It still looks cute on him, now flaming more vibrant in hue against the greying fur of his chest. It’s still his boys, hugging around him, all the unrestrained cheesy love they felt for Perry as kids preserved in rainbow yarn. So he wears it, as he and Heinz drive ahead together through the rest of it.

[buff-muffin]

I'm by no means a Garp defender. i think he's a pretty shitty person and that's why i enjoy him. but i saw a post about him and calling him a shit parent (fair enough) but one thing at least in my opinion I wanna point out is this scene.

because a lot of people rightfully say he should have comforted Ace in that moment and told him he does matter cause he is no older then ten in this moment and thinking he should be dead and Garp says nothing. which again you're right, shit parent moment here.

But i genuinely believe there was nothing Garp could say that would convince Ace any different. Ace has thoroughly convinced himself and believes he does not deserve to live and Garp saying any different would either not be believed or simply treated as pity and hated. that "you just saying that to make me feel better" mindset. And i think Garp knows this. he knows this stubborn angry kid and knows he cant convince him any different. Ace needs to decide who he is as a person and maybe he will find the love and acceptance and ANSWER to the question. That doesn't mean Garp is blameless. or a good parent or ANY of that praise. Garp sucks but he knows this was something Ace had to decide himself and so, he told him as such. even if he should have said more.

[felikatze]

I think Happily Ever After and The Cage both explore some similar topics in inverse ways and once again the Prisoner and the Damsel are twisted mirrors of one another

Pristine Cut spoilers and discussion of abusive relationships below. One suicide mention but it's STP what do you expect tbh

Compilation of rant I went on on discord 👍

prisoner and damsel are very much always parallels since u take the same path to get to them so they're both versions of the princess that you the player Trust, right. and the Greys are a betrayal of that trust if you kill them, and all that. obvs w the prisoner being reluctant trust and the damsel being unconditional because Knife.

but HEA and Cage are both about being Trapped. In Cage, the Princess has seen the same thing happen twice now, she's disillusioned, she's never going to escape. It will be The Same Thing, Forever.

WHICH IS. THE EXACT SAME AS HEA. The Princess believes she is never going to escape. That it will be Just This, Forever. And both of them believe that it *has* to be Just This Forever even if they don't *want* it to be.

Both of this is shown through an Externalized Force. in Cage, that is the Princess' body, which she has conceived as separate from herself. The body simply acts as it must, which she has no input over. Ignoring, of course, that she can *make it stop.*

And that's the same way HEA can't imagine she'll ever escape the Smitten! She's afraid and scared of change, of the torches going out!! But she wants it more than anything!!

Yet these two routes are foils for each other, too. Bcuz in Cage, it's the Princess who enforces the pattern, and in HEA it's the Hero. (part of him, anyways.) What's interesting here too that both of the routes result from a breakdown of communications.

I said in my big long rambly Cage post, but Cage route doesn't happen bcuz Fate, it's bcuz the Princess wants the Hero to carry her head out and he just *doesn't get it.* He just didn't understand what she wanted.

And the leadup to HEA, everyone in Hero's head is upset because they can't communicate to the Princess what is freaking him out, and Smitten tries to... well... show her, I guess.

(Post-rant addition: Hey, both the Prisoned and the Smitten kill themselves to get their points across. Add that to the parallels tally!)

also like abusive relationship metaphors on both ends tbh. Smitten doesn't respect Princess' autonomy at all. I think part of that is the end of Damsel means he doesn't think she *has* any interiority when it's Hero + Paranoid/Opportunist who want the Princess to be a person instead of a doll, which causes her to be a Person Again in HEA. But Smitten is, again, just so stuck on the vision of Damsel who no longer exists.

+ you could also read Damsel chapter in the context of HEA as just seeing that this is the first person who could conceivably save her so she is leaning in HARD to the romance angle because she sees it as the best way to finally get out. Got herself into the romance out of desparation and now she's stuck and regretting it.

So TLDR Smitten doesn't actually respect Princess as a person and just wants her to be this perfect image he has of her, and we see also in HEA how he literally restrains Princess + Hero and deliberately scares Princess when she even dares voice her own opinion. Smitten sucks so bad in this one and it's shit of him but also thematically interesting and again a good escalation of his character.

Cage on the flipside is the typical "I can't help myself" excuse. See, *she's* not at fault here. It's her *body* doing this! Really, nothing could change this. And u see the rebuttal of that angle from the Hero's dialogue options ("You're making a choice. You're choosing violence *right now.*)

No matter how often she says she's just a head, she's still the one who physically restrained the Hero (wow, just like the Smitten!), it's her who refuses to listen to anything the Hero has to say (wonder who that reminds me of), and it's her who is hurting him, on purpose, to feel better about herself.

the "good" endings to these chapters (as much as there are no wrong endings) meaning leaving with the cage's head / dancing with hea under the stars, both of these only occur once Hero/HEA are finally heard and acknowledged. Cage is so rattled that the Hero didn't bring the knife that she finally actually listens to a single word he's got to say and the two can break out, and the final torch in HEA only goes out once Princess says "I'm so tired of this." and has the courage to say what *she* wants and is *listened to.*

in conclusion (x2): STP good 👍 i love you missus the cage

[sokoneedsagun]

Let’s talk about “replacement”

If you’ve been in the dc fandom for longer than maybe a week, you’ve probably seen it before. It’s present in fanfics, tumblr posts, role plays, and fanart. On the off chance that you somehow don’t know about it, “replacement” is a sort of nickname often used for Tim Drake by Jason Todd

This post is going to be cut, I’m going to leave the explanation out but there should be two other sections under it as well

Where did it come from?

There are two possible places that the use of it came from

The first is from a Batman comic series from 2002 called “hush” and I’ll spare you most spoilers about the comic but the part of it that’s important to this conversation has to do with Bruce, Jason, Tim, Selina, and Clayface

While catwoman is fighting huntress (Helena Bertanelli) who is currently drugged by poison ivy, Bruce is worried that Helena is going to force Selina to kill her so he tells Tim (who is Robin at the time) to stay where is and look for someone

Before Bruce can tell him who he’s looking for a figure appears behind Tim and says he’s the one they’re looking for, before hitting Tim and calling him “pretender”

When Bruce finds Tim he’s being held at knifepoint by “Jason” who begins lashing out and then fighting Bruce. Eventually he melts in the rain and is shown to be only made out of clay, and the real Jason Todd is still dead.

The important thing about this, is that Jason never called Tim “pretender,” he never held Tim at knifepoint point (if you ever see anything about Jason “slitting Tim’s throat” that’s where it’s from, Tim was fine all he needed was a bandage), all of it was done by Clayface who was mimicking Dick Graysons movements and using what he knew about Jason to manipulate Bruce.

As to where “replacement” specifically came from, the only time I’ve ever heard about its origin was in a TikTok where the person who made the video said it came from a fanfic (which is very likely true), in the comics Jason has never called Tim by that name

Why does the nickname not make sense?

The nickname doesn’t make sense because if anyone would be a pretender or replacement, it’s Jason. Jason Todd is one of the original robins but he isn’t the original Robin. That title will always belong to DIck Grayson.

And in brining up something like this you have to acknowledge the origins of the moniker in the first place. The name “Robin” came from a nickname that Mary Grayson had for her son, I’m fairly sure the original reasoning was because he was born in the early spring. The reason DIck chose to go by Robin is because the name was important to him, it let him feel closer to his late mother, similarly to how the original Robin costume is based on his flying Grayson’s outfit.

But when Dick was 17 or 18 he was shot in the shoulder by the joker, and Bruce tells him that he can’t keep risking his life as Robin, so he fires him. Dick moves out to Blüdhaven, starts working almost solely with the teen titans, and gets a new moniker (nightwing) given to him by Superman.

And then Bruce adopts Jason, and he gives him Dick’s name and uniform, putting a new child in the way of harm. And yes, Jason did make Robin his own but it was not his, he would have no right to put a claim over the name.

Why does any of this matter?

In short, it doesn’t. There is nothing inherently wrong with writing Jason using the term but in my opinion for their relationship, it just dosen’t make sense.

In the comics Jason has a complicated relationship with everyone in the batfamily, he’s grappling with coming back to life and trying to find a place for himself while also working through his own grief and anger

When you read comics though, when they’re together they often work well together and even hang out a few times, there’s one panel where Jason is trying to take tim out to get a drink (underage drinking is bad don’t do it/lh), and they have a fairly normal sibling dynamic with each other

Which is why I don’t understand where the concept of all the hate and resentment came from in the fandom, I’m genuinely curious as to know why it’s so prominent everywhere

[royalberryriku]

Yes, but in the grand scheme of things blaming them instead of using that energy in other, more meaningful, actions have dampened resistance. At least in my opinion. And it could lead to far worse consequences if we choose to divide ourselves over something like this.

Yes, you're absolutely right to feel the way you do and it makes sense you're angry at those who didn't vote, but my main point here is that, specifically; focusing your rage on them rather than the system itself for allowing a felon and war criminal to run at all is unproductive and will only create more issues rather than fix anything. I know it's easier to blame those who are more accessible; leftists online, but the real enemy who created this whole entire issue and who wrote up Project 2025, led to this situation, etc. are the real enemies here. Again, Hilary did get the majority vote and that's really important to remember. Again, this year, there was a record turnout of young leftists again according to at least the earlier polling. Even then, Trump won by a lot and it's very important to value how much worse it is that individual votes aren't being counted and how badly the system actually functions. Blaming individual leftists (who make up a very small number when the majority of blue votes are lifetime democrats who are liberal) just isn't sensible and will only distract from acting towards meaningful change.

The whole point I've been making here is that the system itself is inherently fascist , regardless of who is running and when, and has been long before Trump even began running in just 2016 (very recent), and it's very important not to lose sight of that or risk dividing ourselves to the point any action we could take would be snuffed out by the police. My entire point in the above is to note how useless and a waste of energy it is, no matter how much a Kamala may feel like the best candidate to you and how much you personally feel that it's privileged for others to let the opportunity to stop Trump slip though their fingers by refusing to vote at all or voting third party, to blame such a minority of people for Trump getting in hole letting go of the long extended history of horrors commited by this system itself. Doing this only restricts your own ability to actually work with these same people because there is safety in numbers when it comes to the larger job of fixing this system (something that can't be done through simply voting) AND actually staying safe amidst it, rather than doing what we can to barely survive in it on our own without our respective communities and voting being out only method of engaging with politics. When activists say "voting is the bare minimum" it's because it only restricts worse cases like Trump and that's it, never actually fixes. What is needed is for people like us, who aren't tied to a corrupt system, to end that corruption with the power of numbers, disruption and resistance.

TLDR, I understand emotionally and I empathise with wanting to lash out at people who may feel or seem "privileged" in my own view, but logically it's more productive to work with those same people who are going to have different stances on voting because, historically, we have always won victories with solidarity and loved through genocides by sticking together rather than blaming each other. We relied on lesbians in the AIDs genocide and, at least for me in Australia, the disabled community here has ties to other activist groups for support. We need to trust and hold onto that unity right now rather than let this crumble any activism or potential actions we could take to self advocate for our own rights. Sorry for the long essay thing I just really wanted to be clear on what I meant.

As the final votes are counted in the US election and the results draw near, I want to warn once again:

Don't blame other leftists for whatever happens.

Remember, it is the electoral college, propaganda and the system at fault here. Please do not use your energy blaming other leftists, rather, use that energy to hold the system accountable.

I know it's easy to fall into the line of thinking that "others must be privileged and so I should blame them first and foremost for any struggles I face under Trump" and to hate all those who didn't vote at all. I know that perspective may feel satisfying when you need to blame someone material, accessible and easy to hold accountable, but they are not the root cause of what is happening. And no, there is a way to fight back and to use the power of your voice, actions and resistance to harm this system and hold it accountable.

Please, please remember that it wasn't any other leftists not voting in 2016 who led Trump to get in and it wasn't them who designed the electoral college to be unfair, all when Hilary did get the majority of the individual votes in 2016 but the system appointed Trump anyway because of the electoral college and because the US system is inherently unfair.

I want to remind everyone that the same backwards laws were still passed under Biden after Trump was replaced in 2020. The same aggression towards democracy existed as evident from Trump's fanning of flames even away from the presidency, the appealing of protections under Biden's watch and racism still increasing after 2020 and to this day.

And I want to remind everyone that it is the system that allowed Trump to run again, that allowed a felon to run at all in 2024.

I don't say this to dismiss voting, bit to remind despite any result that we have to remember who the real enemy is, and it isn't each other; it is the system that pits us against one another so that we are too distracted to fight it.

Regardless of who we voted for or didn't, we must all work together to resist.

[godofautism]

I don't like talking about politics or my opinions but if this election hasn't made it anymore clear, let me help

Trump wants to build everything with your blood

It doesn't matter if you're queer, disabled, a person of color, or even just an average Joe.

If you don't support him, he wants you dead on the pavement.

Fuck him, fuck capitalism, and fuck politics.

Why is it so hard to not get your hands dirty with bloody money and hate? Why is it so fucking hard to not slowly kill off minorities.

I fucking hate it here. I don't know how long I'll last before I fucking snap

[atoriv-art]

older designs for my specialest guy