#this isn't even all of them just the most important ones

[tuttle-did-it]

My friend! I would not stone you, I would not eat you over this. You may very well be right about all of this. We're having a conversation, it isn't about who is right. Everything you're saying is valuable and important. I don't know if you're right. I don't know if I am. We're going off what we have, and that's cool. I am always interested in anyone's thoughts, especially if they are different from mine, as long as there is no screaming and bullying going on.

We are both looking at this what-in-the-ever-loving-fuck is happening on this absurd planet right now, and why is the most powerful country imploding, and why does this feel like we are all in 1933 Germany? We're all lost. It's cool. I like hearing your thoughts.

So, I was very curious about some things you said. I went to look up some stats. Here's what I found. (apologies for the numbers. I am NOT a numbers person. I am dyslexic, dyspraxic, and numbers bounce around a page for me. So bear with me, here.)

According to this site https://backlinko.com/tiktok-users#us-tiktok-users-by-age 55% of TT users in the US in 2024 were between 18-34. (This site didn’t talk much about teens. But that’s 55% of known users who are Voting age. So this is NOT just teens. Only a combined 14% of users are 55+. Similar but not exact numbers here https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2024/12/20/8-facts-about-americans-and-tiktok/ that use it, and this one says about 63% of teens say they use TT. I can only assume that combined teens+ under 34 is about 80%+ of their base. And this is exactly why I think he wanted TT shut down in the first place. The boomers and silent generation are already supporting him, 45 is able to control what information older people get through Faux news and Facebook because of Zuckerberg. He’s able to get all the unretired adults of voting age (20s-60s) through twitter because of Musk. For the people under 25, or even under 30, he didn’t have nearly as much control over the one app that younger people use. Silencing the younger generation is precisely what I meant. This isn't just about how fast posts can spread. This is about WHO is getting information he doesn't want. This is about shutting down anyone he cannot control. (get ready for some revolting and frankly soul-breaking stats, here:) According to https://apnews.com/article/election-harris-trump-women-latinos-black-voters-0f3fbda3362f3dcfe41aa6b858f22d12 60% of white men and an unbelievable 53% of white women supported 45 in 2024 (sorry for lots of numbers here, it is what it is.) 51% of voters over the age of 65 voted for him; 47% for Harris. 52% of voters between 45-64 voted for him; 46% for Harris. 47% for him, 50% for Harris for voters 30-44. 47% voted for him, 51% for Harris in 18-29. The ONLY age groups where 45 was beat was in the younger generations. And that happens to be in the age group that is the highest TT users of voting age.

You want to silence these kids? Stop them from sharing facts? You shut down their app.

You want the kids to stop protesting about Israel? Shut down their app.

Stop them from calling out misinformation on other platforms? shut down the app.

You want the kids to stop getting news about what fuckery 45 is up to? Shut down the fucking app.

You want to stop kids who are legally allowed to vote from getting access to voting places, registration places, and places where they can learn if they’ve been taken off the register? Shut down the app.

You want to make it impossible to find out anything beyond the propaganda? Control the media. All the media. That is precisely what he is doing. And, even better: you want to be the hero for 're-instating the app' that you demanded was shut down? shut it down and then say you're going to ignore the law and let the kids have it back. See, kids! I'm on your side! You better support me from now on, or I'll take away your app again.

Agree to your note about American education system, and the dangers and problems of social media in general. But I think what is far more dangerous is having all four of the most influential social medias under the power of one psychopath who compliments Hitler on being a good person. Whose best bud-- literally today--- did a Nazi salute in front of the world to see.

I have NEVER met a country that was SO under-educated, over-inflated importance and so unaware of the absolute catastrophe they are causing not just to themselves, but also to the rest of the world. And I fucking live in Britain— the home of the Imperialist coloniser who rapes countries, destroys their governments, sucks countries with resources dry and then abandons them with no recovery plan. Like, I am used to absurdities. But America? Not a patch on Britain. Which is terrifying.

As for the form of the different social medias… I’m going to be honest… I don’t think it matters. Yeah, a 30 second video with misinformation probably spreads around faster than a tweet. But if 45 has control of the people who control twitter, Facebook, instagram and TT… honestly, I do not think it will matter where the misinformation comes from. Not now. Not that he’s got them all in his pocket. People don’t read blogs anymore, they get their info on social media. If four out of the four most used social medias are controlled, it won’t matter. He can control the oldies from Facebook. He can control the 30s on insta. The 40s-50s on twitter. And now, he can control the teens and the 20s on TT. It just doesn’t matter — not now. All that matters is that he controls them all.

We’re both Europeans, so we are probably thinking more about the apocalypse this is going to cause to not just to america, but everywhere else— far more than many Americans ever think about this stuff.

We can see what's going on from the outside-- because, as stated, they just use social media for news, and now all 4 SM sources are under this man's control.

As they are in the most powerful country in the world, they don’t always see (or care about) the ramifications of all if this on their own country-- let alone the rest of us. If they are not marginalised people (POC, queer, disabled, immigrants, neuroatypical, etc), they don't even have to think about it.

They get all they ‘yay america! We’re the best!’ And see none of the chaos and destruction their own votes cause. If they’re not impacted, they don’t seem to care. Which is somehow worse to me, but that’s neither here nor there. Honestly, even if they are impacted, they just seem to blame immigrants and people of colour, queers and disabled people sooooooo....

Reminder for when he “saves” it. He was the one who wanted this, and now he gets to be the hero and win favour with young constituents. Don’t give him the credit for fixing his own problem.

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

how do you find public spaces to fuck (re:the rooftop + dyke)?

sincerely, horny lez

Good question, I will answer it in this response eventually, but first, you have to sit through me intellectually jerking myself off for a moment because I think it may provide some useful perspective.

Public sex has been part of my life for as long as I've been having physical sex at all. As an adolescent it was mostly out of necessity, but these days it's mostly out of convenience. The vast majority of the sex I've had in the last year or two has been public.

I think it's important to clarify that for me at least, public sex is not an act of exhibitionism. If there's any sort of philosophy behind it besides sheer utility, I'd say it's something like not allowing our society's mores and hangups around sex and privacy dictate the terms on how and where we (especially as gay people) engage with our sexuality.

I think there's this gut impulse many people have--including many gay people--around public sex, and I think it speaks to the reactionary view of human sexuality that is unfortunately the stock standard in these times. For many, the idea of people having sex in public gives them some sort of 'ick' that they can't seem to articulate.

Often discussions around public sex are framed like this: "if I walked in on people having sex, it would make me uncomfortable, I didn't consent to that, so people should not be having sex in public." It would be fairly reasonable to experience discomfort in this imagined scenario--in fact, I think most people probably would--and that discomfort isn't a problem. The problem is that the premise assumes a few crucial points, notably that 1. Walking in on public sex is a common occurrence and/or the desired outcome for those engaging in it 2. Discomfort is a form of harm 3. Exposure to (non-hegemonic) human sexuality is capable of causing some kind of nebulous psychic damage to the witness.

To the first point: in my decade or so of regular public sex, I can only think of one instance where I was actually walked in on. It was an alley off of a major road and probably only at around 1030p. I mention this because we absolutely would have chosen a different, more secluded location/time if we were doing anything other than fully clothed kink and maybe some kissing, because again, the goal for most is not exhibitionism; no one really wants to be walked in on, so we choose locations where it is less likely that we will be.

To the second point, I have little to say besides that it simply isn't. Discomfort is an everyday part of life and is something all people experience regularly without calls to stop every potential source of it. So what is it about this topic that makes people react this way?

This leads us to the third point: non-hegemonic modes of sexuality are treated as degenerative and caustic and therefore must be hidden (or eradicated) entirely from the public sphere. It is the classic double standard; think of things like the "Don't Say Gay" or "DADT" laws or more broadly the attempt to remove even the mention of the existence of gays from curriculum. Most of the people who fight for such measures likely don't take the same issue or action with a 48 foot billboard for the local strip club or with a heterosexual couple kissing on screen.

And while the spot that people place the line may differ greatly, this ire against public sex still draws from the same well of reaction against perceived degeneracy that the fascist draws from. If this is not self evidently a negative thing to you, I have little I can say to convince you.

Some may be thinking 'okay, even if it is not harmful or degenerate, why do public sex?' To me, it is just as strange that so many keep their sex lives confined to the home and I could posit the same question. Neither way of doing things is any more natural or unnatural than the other, one is just the societal default. If it would bring you joy, why not engage in public sex?

The world is large, and if you know where to look, there are countless spaces you can carve out and stake the pervert's claim to. Alleyways, parks, bathrooms, rooftops, and beaches are the first to come to mind for me. To answer your question directly, you find them by making them and taking them.

Time is a large factor here as well. A given spot in a park at 9p may not be suitable, but might be more so by 11p, and even more so by 1a. My experience is that the later it gets, more spots become viable with less heavy precautions.

Another factor is coverage. An open field is riskier than behind a tree. The middle of an alley is riskier than behind a dumpster. You want to limit the amount of vectors through which you could be exposing yourself. I value coverage from sight lines over seclusion.

Something else you want to think about is whether or not you are on private property. If you are, it's possible that there are security personnel sitting in a car somewhere nearby or a resident who notices you. At that point, the issue is not even the sex, it's the fact you're there at all.

Finally, you always have to be ready to dip. Be aware of your surroundings as best you can, listen for cars and people, don't get too caught up in the moment that you're blinded. You gotta be ready to pull your pants up and walk quickly away. I'd rather be safe than sorry. If something's not right, get outta there. If you can't, well, don't have your dick out at least.

Anyway, all that to say go out and have fun. Good luck and enjoy yourself. The world has room for you to fit yourself into.

[dcxdpdabbles]

So an idea if you want to use it (sorry if it is long-)

I was reading a fic where Jazz, Danny, Dan and Dani(Ellie) were trasnported in Gotham but the twist? they are children

Jazz is 10

Dan and Danny are 5

And Ellie is a 1 year baby

So what if....

Jazz becames a vigilante by accident (bc she killed the Joker when he was teatening her siblings) and they decide to hide in Wayne manor. why? well bc is the only place where is "safe" also bc Danny and Dan wanted to invade an Fruitloop mansion (only Alfred and Duke knows theyre there-)

But the best part? All the Fentom sibling are children of Bruce Wayne (just think abt it-)

I think the fic you're talking about is Alfred and the Tiny Attic Squatters! I highly recommend it for those who haven't read it, especially for the interactions between Jazz and Damian. My version of this prompt isn't be as good as this fic, but I hope you enjoy it!

Wayne Manor is a large estate. It is a seven-story building with seventy rooms within the one hundred and fifty acres owned by the Waynes. It had three pools, the largest outside and the smaller indoor pools on the third and seventh floors. Two helipads were on top of the west and main wings.

They were no longer traditional wings but an interconnected section built under Master Thomas' watchful eye. He wanted the Manor to be one massive unit, discarding the social barriers previous heads of the family had wished to create with the buildings.

Although the East wing was seven floors, it was initially the servant's chambers, the West was visiting for guests that were not quite important enough to be within the inner circle of the Waynes, and the Main one, the most elegant of them all, where the Waynes lived, and occasionally hosted the most important members of high society.

Master Thomas made it a project to upgrade every inch of the Manor to ensure it had the latest modern delights. He took that opportunity to build hallways connecting the wings, making them as important as the Main.

However, the servants had been so used to describing the grounds in the old manner that Master Thomas could not stop people from referring to the wings regardless of his good intentions.

When Alfred was hired, he was one of the twenty butlers employed by Master Thomas. There were the twenty maids, the ten chiefs, and the three groundskeepers.

The large estate was never without noise or the people moving about. Someone was always there, all proud to work for the kindhearted doctor and his philanthropist wife. Alfred had only applied for the position because, at the time, he had not been handling losing his entire team well.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Their last hurra towards the war's end, but the tensions at the borders had been underreported, and Alfred had been the only solider among the seven-man team to make it back from the front lines. The guilt was so heavy that he could not join his countrymen in celebration, drowning his sorrows in whatever bottle he could find.

Alfred tried for a few years to live as a civilian again, but every night, his teammate's screams haunted him. Soon, he could not stand being in England, not even to watch the country rebuild.

He had run from Her Majesty's service, run from his duties as a father, and run from his home. Somehow, he found himself working on various boats, working to buy his next bottle as a boat hand. One of those boats Master Thomas had boarded.

Alfred had just been informed he was fired for being caught drunk on the job too many times when he stumbled by Master Thomas' room. The crew would wait till they docked in America before throwing him off the ship. He had not meant to press his ear to the man's door, but the swaying of the boat and drunken balance had ended up with him leaning on the wood to stay upright.

That's how he overhears Master Thomas' choked cries for help. Alfred had burst through the door, startling a man with wire wrapped around Master Thomas' neck.

An assassin had been sent to kill the young Wayne heir so his company would be broken up among unworthy cousins. Alfred's training had kicked in, and despite being so sloshed he was seeing doubles, the Englishman had defeated the would-be killer.

Master Thomas was so grateful that he offered him a job at the manor. Alfred had agreed since he had no other plan, figuring he would drink his way to his grave on the nobleman's coin.

Years later, no matter how often Master Thomas insisted Alfred saved his life, he knew it was the other way around. His boss had turned into a trusted friend, who pried the bottles from his hand, forced him to write to his daughter, and taught him to live once more.

Many whispered rumors of a love affair between the two, but Alfred never let it bother him. None of them knew Master Thomas as he did.

None of them understood the man loved the world with his entire heart, was so good that the idea of caring for someone just to get them into bed never crossed his mind, or that if sunshine could be personified, it would take the shape of Thomas Wayne.

Alfred was just one among the fifty-three employees, but he foolishly felt a part of the family anyway. They all did. Master Thomas could make anyone feel like a beloved cousin, and when he brought home Mistress Martha, well, the family had just gotten bigger.

The little paddle of Master Bruce's footsteps added to the noise and warmth of the manor. It was as if his birth filled a hole they had not known needed filling.

Wayne Manor was a large estate, but it never made anyone feel small within its grounds. Alfred devoted himself to ensuring everything was in top shape for his friend, becoming the head buttler when the last one retired and came to care for Master Bruce in his upbringing. The world was bright and joyful, and Alfred felt like he believed in hope once more.

Then, Master Thomas and Mistress Martha were killed.

All at once, the Wayne Manor fell silent. Master Bruce was far too young to manage his estate. His shares in the company passed to his uncle- a man Alfred detested greatly- his employee's pay cut off. Many of the servants attempted to remain for free, but it soon became apparent they could not survive without an income.

One by one, they vanished, the wings sealed shut upon their departure. Only Alfred remains loyal to the boy with Master Thomas' eyes but no longer with his spark.

Something broke inside of Master Bruce that day. Something that would lead to Batman would consume his every thought and soul. Alfred feared the boy would join his parents if he, too, left for England, leaving him to his uncle and the suddenly too-large house he once called home.

Wayne Manor was far too large for only two people. Alfred hated the way his footsteps echoed whenever he walked through the two wings because with Master Bruce remaining in the Main wing, there was no other sound except for Alfred.

He was alone. Again.

Alfred moved into the Main wing three months later, knowing he would go mad if he stayed in the East wing. The West Wing fell out of use when Master Bruce became obsessed with fighting crime and no longer allowed guests to spend the night.

Even years later, when Master Bruce used his playboy persona to hide his night activities, he never opened the two large wooded doors into the other wings. The parties were always in the Main Wing and had an end time. If a guest did stay, Alfred had a room in nearby rooms to the ballrooms ready.

When Master Dick was brought in, Alfred had put the lad on the seventh floor of the Main wing alongside Master Bruce. He then filled up the rooms downwards for all the following children. Alfred lived on the second floor of the Main wing, his room far back from the stairway, content with the thumps of the children overhead as they walked to and fro the manor.

He could not bring himself to unseal the wings. Not even when the children asked about the large double doors, always closed shut. The silence was a haunting reminder of the alley that took away the personification of sunshine.

Secretly, Alfred believed Master Bruce felt the same, so he never ordered the butler to open them. The children no doubt walk through the wings- one could not be a crime-fighting partner to Batman without breaking some unspoken rules- but there was nothing of interest.

Only furniture covered in cloth and empty rooms that held the shards of Alfred's broken heart. A part of life slowly forgotten in the wake of devastation. After a curious walk-through, the children never bothered with the two wings again.

Or at least Alfred believed them to become bored.

He was unsure why Master Damian, Master Duke, Master Tim, or Miss Cass would want to enter the East Wing after so many years. Yet here he stood, feather duster in hand, feeling shocked to see those doors again open.

Alfred had just been doing his bi-monthly dusting of the less used rooms of the Main wing when he noticed that the East wing door had been left slightly open. Someone had forgotten to close it properly, and the dust around the doorknob was noticeably thicker on one side than the other.

The lights in the hallway behind it were still shut off, dressing the other side of the door in shadows. Alfred could almost say the darkness was looming over him, taunting him with hurtful memories but calling to him all the same.

He had not crossed to the other wings since before Master Jason had been brought to the manor. Alfred had not been strong enough to survive hurtful members before, and his cowardness had led him to run from those wings.

Yet still, the darkness called.

Swallowing, the aged butler placed the feather duster down. He pulled out the smartphone Miss Steph insisted he owned to click on his flashlight. His gloved hands curl around the knob, his fingers starting to shake as he pulls.

The hinges creaked loudly, nearly downing out his shattering breath. It's noisy from the misuse, he knows, but it still feels like the Manor itself is accusing him of abandonment.

He nearly turns around right there, but he sees a slight glow at the far end of the wing. Smaller than the one on his phone, almost the stairway. It reminds him briefly of the glow-in-the-dark star stickers that Master Dick had placed in his room during the first few months of living in Gotham.

The lad had missed seeing the shine of the night sky.

Alfred's toes are right at the edge of the doorframe as he strains his eyes, trying to make out what the glow is. The shine moves around from the stairway, disappearing from sight, leaving him shining a light into the darkness of the old, empty hallway.

His feet move without much thought across the doorway as he stumbles- as silent as the night. Someone had taught Master Bruce, after all. He passes by white cloths dropped over furniture and empty walls- the painting had been moved to storage, the potted plants withered away years ago, and the vases either sold off by Master Bruce's uncle or lost in some place.

The air is musty, as Alfred had not bothered to clean or air this entire building out in years. His nose tickles from all the dust particles flying around as he swings his light carefully.

He stops just at the end of the stairway, eyes fixated on a window. A slightly open window, its glass unable to see through, but what really shocked him was the tiny handprint on the lower right panel.

It's the shape of a small child. The trail of footprints, outlined by the floors he long ago gave up on, is also that of a child's, leading towards the stairs and climbing them upwards. Alfred shuts off his light, pushing it into his pocket as he blindly uses the railing to guide him upwards.

The slight footprints do not go down hallways but keep going up and up until he's on the top floor and at the edge of the hallways where the master room of this wing is. Each floor at Wayne Manor, regardless of wing, houses three bedrooms.

The East Wing rooms are unique because they hold a sitting area, a small kitchen, and an ensuite bathroom. They were designed to make guests feel like they were staying in a luxury hotel so they would not feel snubbed for not being invited into the main wing.

They could be self-sustainable if they were not accompanied by servants.

Alfred could see the light turn on in the last room, hear various voices, and, most alarming, a blender was in use. He creeps closer, letting the noise of the machine mask his approach.

This door is slightly open as well. It was likely the same person who did not close the main entrance correctly. The crack in the wood is big enough he can peer through with one eye and not have his entire face in the open.

Alfred is stunned to find a young girl with red hair, no older than ten, standing at the counter fixing dinner. Master Bruce never shut off the wings' utilities merely because they were connected to the Main. The water, the heater, the light, and all of it were in use as the young girl let the blender stop, pouring a green drink into three cups.

She hums to herself, placing the glass into the sink. The redhead hops off the chair with an easy little twist of her feet, moving towards the wall oven and looking through the glass door.

"Pizza is almost ready!" She calls. Twin cheers pop up from Alfred's sight, but he doesn't have to wonder who released them for long before two tiny blurs rush into the kitchen.

A pair of young boys, likely twins based on their identical features, no older than five, press themselves against the oven. They have to stand on their toes to correctly see the pizza, but it does nothing to deter their excitement.

The little redhead girl pats the head of one of them on her way to the stove, pulling a milk bottle out of a pot on the stovetop. "Danny, can you bring Dani to me?"

Alfred wonders by the repeat of the name as the other little boy- the one she did not pat- steps away from the oven. He rushes out while the little girl tests the bottle's milk on her wrist. She seems satisfied with it just as the boy returns, pushing a baby stroller.

The girl reaches into the stroller, pulling out a tiny infant that could be no more than five months old. The child quickly has the baby latching on to the bottle with the ease of someone who's had practice.

"I made us some veggie drinks-" She starts, only to have both boys begin to whine. "-No buts! We need all the vegetables we can get to compensate for our small bodies. Lack of nutrition has played a severe role in us, and now that we've found a safe place to live, I'm going to feed us well."

"You sure you should be stealing from Bruce Wayne? It's not entirely safe to say he'll be understanding if we get caught," The other twin speaks up, sounding alarmingly too old for a five-year-old. Maybe they were older and were just small due to malnourishment, like the girl said?

"It's okay. We're been here a whole month, and no one even suspects. Besides, you know what Clockwork said. He is supposedly our biological father; even if he doesn't want anything to do with us, the least he can do is allow us this empty apartment."

"This is better than the car we lived in," The other child chirps "It even has a TV!"

"It's all old, but it works," The girl agrees with a smile, moving the bottle so the white liquid falls to the front. The baby is still slurping down the meal in soft gulps that can only come from hunger. "I'm grateful for the bathroom. I forgot what it felt like to be this clean. That reminds me, I will do our laundry in the tub later, so bring me all the dirty clothes you have."

Alfred retreats from the door, pressing his hand against his mouth. He needs to speak to Master Bruce. If the girl is wrong, if this Clockwork lied to them, they are still small children living in Wayne Manor for an entire month.

And none have been the wiser.

What if they are Master Bruce's children? What would Master Thomas say if he knew his grandchildren had been left to live on the streets for such prolonged malnourishment had stunned their growth?

Alfred all but runs the second he crosses the Wing doorway, mind whirling. He thinks it madness that has him bursting into Master Bruce's office because, for a second, he could have sworn the sunlight falling through Master Bruce's window was Master Thomas's smiling face.

"Alfred? What's wrong?"

"Sir, I believe we have unknown guests you should meet."

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt. 8 - april 15 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 wordcount: 1501

Of course, you felt bad. Dylan’s most important boarding competition of the year fell during the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, but you couldn’t not go. To Monaco. It wasn’t just the race—it was everything. Your whole life. Racing was in your blood, the paddock your second home, the people in it your family. Missing a race weekend wasn’t just unthinkable; it was impossible.

“It’s not this competition, I don’t care about that, it’s everything, not going to Japan, …” 

”Dyl, I’m sorry, you know racing is my life, it has always been part of my life, I can’t give that up.”

“I should be part of your life now too” you looked at him a bit confused. 

‘’You are’’

“I’m so sorry.. I love you and I really thought I could do this, that I didn’t care, not going to Japan, my competitions, all the time apart, but I’m tired of not caring” 

“Dyl..” your voice trembled, unsure of what to say. 

“I didn’t want to lose you, I liked that you had your own life and I had mine, but I want to share the same life as well, like you and your racing friends. I want that, someone to be at all my competitions and know everyone, I’m sorry, I thought I didn’t…” Dylan continued. And he wasn’t wrong to want to share a life with you—one that didn’t revolve around track schedules, podium celebrations, and flights halfway across the world. You were so happy you had found someone that could deal with that, it wasn’t easy. Turns out, it really isn't, not even for the coolest professional snowboarder. 

At first you didn’t cry. Not because you thought it made you weak, not because the overwhelming emotion wasn’t sadness. You were frustrated—at the situation, at yourself, at the inevitable clash between the life you live and the life Dylan and most other people wanted, this always having been a subject in your life. - Max showed up later that afternoon, letting himself in with the spare key you’d given him. You were still on the couch, staring blankly at the wall when he flopped down beside you.

“I heard,” he interrupted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Dylan texted me. He knows I’d come to check on you whether you wanted me to or not. Are you okay?”

You blinked at him. “Dylan texted you?” your voice breaking.

Max held up his hands. “Just to say you’d broken up. Don’t worry, he didn’t give me a play-by-play. But I figured you might need your twin brother to cheer you up.” 

“I’m fine,” you said while crying, the words feeling hollow even as you said them.

“You don’t look fine,” Max said, his tone softer now. “You look like you’re trying to figure out how to not feel guilty about something that wasn’t your fault.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch, trying to wipe some tears away. “It’s just...I don’t blame him. He wasn’t wrong. Racing is my life, and I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t give it up. Not for him, not for anyone. But maybe that makes me selfish.”

Max tilted his head, studying you. “You’re not selfish. You’re honest. And honestly? If he couldn’t handle this part of your life, it’s better it ended now than years down the line.”

“It’s not about handling it,” you muttered. “He wanted a life I couldn’t give him. A normal life. And I wanted him to want this one.” It was a deeper problem that had been a problem in previous relationships and friendships, for Max and you the same.

Max gave you a wry smile, as if reading your mind. “Not everyone’s built for the chaos of our world. Doesn’t mean you’re wrong for living it.”

You stared at him, the only person who understood exactly what you meant being there for you, a lump forming in your throat. “It still sucks.” You hugged him, tears falling from your eyes.

“Of course it does.” he said, holding you. - Two days later, you were curled up on the couch in your London apartment, watching a mindless rom-com when there was loud thumping on your door. Max had texted you earlier in the day asking how you were holding up, but you hadn’t expected him to organize a rescue mission.

“You’re coming out with us,” Max declared the moment you opened your apartment door, his tone leaving no room for argument. Lando stood behind him, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“I’m really not in the mood,” you protested, but Max wasn’t having it.

“Too bad. You’ve been moping for days, and we’re not letting you wallow.” He glanced over his shoulder at Lando. “Back me up here.”

Lando’s smile widened. “He’s right. You need a distraction. And we’re excellent distractions.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invasion

You really weren’t in the mood, but you couldn’t say no if Lando had flown over from Monaco for this.  - The bar was crowded and lively, a blur of neon lights and pulsing music. Lando stuck close to your side, his presence steadying amidst the chaos. Max, on the other hand, had already disappeared into the crowd, likely chatting up someone at the bar.

“Drink this,” Lando said, handing you a cocktail with a lopsided grin.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” you teased, taking a sip.

“Obviously,” he stated, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music. “It’s called distraction therapy.”

Max reappeared with shots, dragging you both to the dance floor. The alcohol had loosened your nerves, and you found yourself laughing as Max attempted to teach Lando some ridiculous dance moves. Lando’s face lit up with his usual playful grin, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

The bar Max had picked was exactly what you needed—loud, lively, and far removed from anything that reminded you of Dylan. 

As the night wore on, the three of you found a rhythm—dancing, drinking, laughing. Max eventually got distracted by a group of girls, leaving you and Lando alone near the edge of the dance floor.

“You’re having fun,” Lando observed, his smile warm as he watched you sway to the music.

“I am,” you admitted, surprised by how true it felt.

“Good.” He stepped closer, his voice low. “And good riddance by the way, we dont like Red Bull anyway” you laughed, rolling your eyes. - By the time you stumbled back into your apartment, you were drunk, feeling happy, and unsteady.

You had put Max in an uber to his apartment, too drunk to stay. Classic, having to rescue him during his rescue mission for you. Leaving Lando to stay with you ‘’He snores too much when he’s drunk and I don’t want to take care of him’’.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, kicking off your shoes and sinking onto the couch.

“Anytime,” Lando replied, dropping onto the seat beside you. His knee brushed against yours, and neither of you moved away.

The silence stretched, charged with something unspoken. You turned to him, your breath catching at the way his gaze lingered on you.

“What?” you asked softly.

He hesitated, his hand resting on the back of the couch as he leaned closer. “You know what.”

You could feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitched as his eyes flicked to your lips.

“Lando…”

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

But you didn’t.

When his lips met yours, it was like everything you’d been holding back finally broke free. The kiss was hungry, desperate, months of tension unraveling in a heartbeat.

You barely made it to the bedroom, your clothes scattered in a trail behind you. It was messy and impulsive and everything it shouldn’t have been.

WN: Im so sorry guys, took way longer, I was sick :(((((

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus@motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini@acesofspadess @widow-cevans @irisesinthegarden @ncrsbrg @f1fantasys @norrisainz33 @mayax2o07 @ipushhimback

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Unbeknownst to them, the rumor of them looking for Tim and speculation on why exactly they're doing so after so much time has passed spreads quickly through the league and the younger heroes. While each of those teams are known to work with the Bats and they usually have one as a team mate, they're not blind and they have seen the way things went down after Batman came back from the time stream. Some (Superman, Wally, Jon, maybe?) want to believe they finally realized how important Tim is to their family and want to reconnect.

Most of the others are skeptic and have (correctly) assumed they need Tim for something and are intending to pull him back into their parasitic (?) dynamic where Tim gives and gives and they take without giving anything back. Tim is finally moving on. Happy. They're not about to compromise that for the sake of the bats. Not after he put them before his own life and well being for years and years without them truly realizing.

It takes a week for them to hear back from Tim. However, when they finally get the call from a blocked number it isn't Tim on the other side.

"Tim? We were worried about you? Where have you been?" Dick answers but puts the phone on speaker, Bruce, Damian and Alfred present in the room.

"and why exactly are you trying to contact Tim right now?" Ma Kent's voice is colder than they've ever heard before. "Tim changed his number months ago. What exactly are you worried about?"

"Um... We..." Dick starts, sheepish and not sure how to continue without looking like a jerk.

"Where is Tim? Why isn't he calling us?" Bruce interrupts with his usual tact. Ma isn't having it.

"That's not how this works. Either answer my question or I'll hang up and make sure no one else gives you Tim's information. You might be detectives but even you won't be able to pass through all the layers of security that boy and his friends have put up as a precaution."

"He... Gave Bruce some advice that helped get the family back together we were hoping that he could..." Dick started.

"Go back to fixing your messes without ever getting anything in return? Talk Bruce out of his bullshit like he's the child instead of a full grown adult?" They stay silent, knowing Ma has a point. "That's what I thought. You know, anyone else in your situation would look for a therapist instead of relying on an emotional support child to get you through life. You didn't even notice when he left, did you?"

"I..." Dick is not sure how to finish his sentence. Damian looks bored and like he'd rather be anywhere else. Alfred has a deep frown on his face but it doesn't seem to be directed at anyone in particular. Bruce... Bruce has completely shut down. His face is pale, stuck in a neutral expression while his eyes are glassy and focused on a random point in the wall.

"Like I said. You're not getting close to that boy if you're just going to keep using him. He got out. Respect that. If you don't, I'll make sure someone keeps you in check. He has a lot of people at his back and even more who owe him favors. You don't want to try me." With that, Martha Kent hangs up the phone.

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[takethelongroadhome]

the thing that (imo) no one is acknowledging about astarion is that shame is a huge part of his psyche. just as much as (arguably more than) fear--an important aspect of his fear is that he fears becoming the person he was so ashamed of again.

most of the abuse he's implied to have experienced from cazador is so extremely degrading and humiliating that it's almost unimaginable. his siblings describe him as especially likely to fawn and submit for safety. leon goes out of his way to mock him for being cazador's "favorite," whatever the hell that means.

when he meets the 7,000 spawn for the first time, he's not just willing to sacrifice them for the ritual, he wants them to die--he hates them in a very visceral, personal way. the pity and guilt he feels for them is drowned out by his contempt-- they're "pathetic, horrible." if you call him out on the fact that they clearly remind him of himself, he absolutely flips out and says he killed that version of himself. he not only is willing to trick and kill his siblings, he not only thinks they deserve that, he is surprised that you feel differently. he was one of them barely a month ago! he knows that!

shame -> contempt sublimation is very real. when you hate yourself for what was done to you, it's barely a leap to begin hating others for what is done to them (I mean, he says outright that he doesn't want to help the gnome slaves in grymforge because they're depressing). he hates the person he was forced to become under cazador--the person who simpered and played along with the man systematically torturing him for his own gratification, who had to abandon all self-respect and dignity for survival, and so he draws a sharp distinction between past-astarion and free-astarion and is obsessed with separating himself from any trace of the former. anyone who's a victim like past-astarion gets hit with the full force of his contempt and disgust. free-astarion is good and worthy because he is no longer like those pathetic victims, and is free to look down on them all from his tadpole-enabled throne!

it's to the point where he actively gets joy out of seeing victims brutalized, because he's had to adopt cazador's worldview over the 200 years he spent trying to appease his every whim. (as much as he hates cazador, he also clearly "looks up" to him--he hypes him up as a threat like he's in a powerscaling argument with you. he has to! how else would he have survived?) you are either the powerful and dignified victimizer or the pathetic victim, and for once he gets to be in cazador's position, relishing the just punishment of the weak for being weak. he has no other model for what dignity can look like beyond this victimizer/victim dichotomy. if he wants basic self-respect, he thinks he has to be like this.

this isn't a good worldview, both in the moral sense and in the qualitative sense. it's miserable. astarion will never actually be able to achieve peace or happiness like this. no amount of power will satisfy his sense of shame--it certainly didn't for cazador! what he needs is to feel real compassion for other people and for his past self--not anger, not grievance, not bitterness, but actual compassion. that's part of why you get approval for talking him out of ascending--he may truly, desperately want to ascend, because everything he believes about the world is telling him that the 7,000 spawn deserve it and it's the only way for him to become worthy and whole and dignified, but even more than that, he wants someone to convince him that he's wrong.

obviously this isn't, like, the only factor at play in his head. he contains multitudes! but I do think it's an important one

[wachtelspinat]

do you have any advice, resources or practices you recommend for making your art more expressive? I adore how you push expressions and body language, and the way it keeps its weight is phenomenal! I wanna learn how to do that, too!

hey thank you so much <3

one of the most important things that i've learned on my way and that i've kept in my mind ever since is what makani states in [this post] sometimes i go into a drawing and just try to construct it bit by bit, only to realize that the eyes don't fit the mouth etc... then i remember to treat it all as ONE expression and (second very important lesson incoming) i erase everything and start anew (i know it feels bad to just delete a sketch of a head (you don't have to delete it right away, you can always just take another layer) but believe me it not only saves you tons of time, you also learn more when you just start over from scratch. the thing i do is as follows, i keep the bad sketch open and try to figure out what i don't like about it, and put extra focus in those areas in the new sketch. like i think the eyes were too dull in the first try? the solution is to draw them open even wider, turn up that expression a nodge, try to "bend" it). i know this sounds exhausting, you might think isn't it easier to just try to fix the first sketch? i thought so too for many years, but believe me, if you don't like it, start a new one. you will always be amazed on how good it can turn out (and, as said before, the benefit of analyzing your own art and trying to figure out what went wrong and fixing it in a new attempt is HUGE.)

third thought on this is "don't be afraid to push the boundaries". like i grew up being a huge ren & stimpy fan as a kid, i love classic cartoons, i love exagerated expressions so much, eyes popping out, sweat drops flying around, over the top visualisation of feelings. that's my shit (pizza tower i'm looking at you). then on the other hand i also love things feeling palpable and real, hence the weird mix of my style i guess... what i want to say is: don't be afraid to push your expressions a bit. not only is it fun, with the right balance it really adds to it all (in regards of body language and facial expressions likewise).

and last but not least, so important: use references. i often take photos of myself doing weird gestures just to see how the mouth or the eyes would look like for a specific expression, how the nose wrinkles, how the shoulder come up when trying to visualize that someone is tense etc etc. use ref, please, not only photos but also drawings, try to figure out how other artists translate certain gestures in their art, how can you stylize this (everything ofc without copying directly from them... like for personal practice everything is cool and chill, but respect the rules of the artist community)

it is hard to pinpoint down how everything we do in our art lives comes down to what we draw at the end of the day, like everything i post, how it looks, is the result of almost 2 decades of drawing with a purpose, but i hope this helps a bit.

[sunflowerpastels]

ok so im FINALLY able to start talking abt my theories because OH MY GOD

spoilers and theories under the cut

so what we know so far is that buddy/nox is, in fact, a key, and that he's trying to become human (again?) by locating chase and/or the keys. what isn't clear right now is what he did to get turned into a key, presumably by ex libris.

my theory right now is that nox was somehow involved in guarding the keys (which is the reason he knows so much about them and how they function), but something went wrong under his watch so the higher-ups (the "old man", maybe?) decided his punishment would be getting turned into a key somehow (probably some sort of spell, as silver mentioned that ex libris has access to many spells that we don't know about), as well as being sent to retrieve they keys hey lost, or at least the heroine key

I'm still very set on the fact that he's not a "real" key, given all the facts we've been given already. he doesn't behave like the other keys, nor does he look like them while inside books. I also noted that all of the keys we've seen so far are entirely one color, except for their eyes, but nox is both grey and black. he dosen't ever refer to the keys as though they're family to him, even when alone, which their familial bonds seem to be very important to all of them. he also spent a good amount of time calling the keys "it" or "your/my key" rather than their proper names, needing to consciously change how he refers to them. I also have a headcanon that the keys can't actually fall in love with anyone, which is obviously not the case for nox, but that's only a headcanon.

since nox is a key, I do agree with most people that he's the villain key. if he wasn't there would be no reason for him to just take on the villan role himself, rather than the villainess. his symbol is also a cressent moon, the opposite of goldie's symbol, which is the sun. though I believe he was turned into the role after the actual villain key was lost under his supervision.

[l-in-the-light]

"I'm sure he's got nothing to do with me!" says Luffy and I was waiting for him to say it. For him to hear all of this Nika lore and declare that, nope, I don't care, I'm not Nika, I'm not a liberator. It's just such a Luffy thing to do. But I know many fans actually will be shocked with Luffy's answer here or will just dismiss it. I have seen many opinions before that Luffy was always a liberator by choice, so becoming Nika is just natural course of events for him and he will have no problem embracing his role in the bigger scheme of things. Some even complained they hate that Luffy is Nika because they don't want Luffy to be the "fated hero" but instead a "from nobody to the king of the world" trope. But nope! Luffy just noped all of this himself.

Luffy is not a liberator and he's not an altruistic hero, he doesn't go from island to island aiming to save people, and if you think he wanted to, then please remember Fishmen Island and how unhappy he was with the idea of being a hero:

And now if you think Luffy changed since then because Dressrosa happened, then please remember what he asked of Momonosuke in Wano:

Yep, that's right. Luffy still *doesn't have any interest* in becoming a hero. If you think he's alright with that and changed his mind, then you're just not paying attention to him, sorry to say that. Luffy has been pretty consistent about this too and now he declared it yet again in Elbaf. It's the third time already.

You just think it's not a big deal because he so easily changed his mind in Fishmen Island, but it happened only because he had an actual reason to do that. Jimbei promised Luffy all the meat he wants. He gave him a *personal reason* to act like a hero, which is why Luffy agreed. And he did the same in Dressrosa. He wouldn't liberate that country if he didn't get attached first to Law and Rebecca (yes, in this order), and his crew to tontattas. They always do it for someone particular, for their friends. It's the same in Wano too, Luffy's constant motivation is Tama, Momo and Kinemon. He wants them to be happy, most of all, and he even says as much when he defeats Kaido: "I want a world where all of my friends can eat as much as they like".

There, he doesn't do it altruistically because he hates oppresion and villains who thrive on pain of common people and he can't stand seeing it. Yes, he probably thinks it's unfair, but he also grew up in Goa Kingdom, the very definition of unfair regime. He saves oppressed people only when they are his friends or has some other personal interest involved. He defeats the Marine base in Shells Town for Koby (and Zoro, later). He defeats Don Krieg so he can repay his food debt to Baratie. He defeats Arlong for Nami. He fights Wapol for Chopper (who saved Nami) and who he already considers his friend because of that. He fights for the Giants (Little Garden) and Vivi (Alabasta), Conis (Skypiea), Robin (Water 7 and Enies Lobby), Brook (Thriller Bark), Hachi (Sabaody) etc. Though, he does make friends rather easily, so usually it's not that big of a deal. But he isn't going out of his way to places he reads about in the newspapers that need to be liberated, he instead cares more for his own dream. He doesn't enter a certain island with the idea in mind that goes like "if I see some injustice here, I'm gonna bring this shit down". It's the other way around. He makes friends and realizes they're unhappy.

He wants them to be happy again and to live without regrets, and that's why he brings the shit down, whatever it is that makes people he cares about feel so unhappy. Because he thinks this is at least something he can do for his friends. Luffy doesn't think he can do a lot of things, he can't do much at all, but he can do one thing: beat up a guy when needed.

He knows how regret feels like ever since he believed Sabo died, he's not gonna sit there and do nothing next time something like this happens. That's why it's so important for him, to make sure his friends are happy. And that's why he beats up people and liberates countries. It's not for justice, he simply wants his friends to be happy.

But wait a moment, Luffy also wants freedom. Yes, he does. He wants to be the King of the Pirates, because for him it means to be free. And that's how he actually speaks about Nika as well:

He wants the freedom for himself. Isn't it funny that he thinks he already achieved it though?

And before you're disgusted by how selfish Luffy actually is, hear me out: Luffy is simply not a martyr. He won't die or sacrfice himself for the world to liberate it. He will instead die for the world if he thinks that will make his friends happy. Preferably though, he would want to survive and eat that meat with them, and be happy together.

Still, if you want him to be a liberator of a whole world it is actually possible, you just need to make it personal for Luffy, like I suggested. For example, put a person or multpile people who want to save/destroy the world (whichever option you fancy) on Luffy's crew. Luffy always cares for dreams of his crewmates and will always support them (because fullfilling their dreams will make them happy), so he would become a liberator if that helps them. But he would do it for them, not for the world.

Luffy is not a hero because he has a golden heart and a strong sense of justice. He's a hero when his friends are in danger instead, because instead of a golden heart, he simply has a big heart and makes friends wherever he goes. A martyr-like hero who sacrfices himself for people without caring for his own wellbeing is noble, but it's also not a healthy mentality, believe it or not. For starters, if you never care enough for yourself and are ready to throw your life away for a concept, what will happen with people who love you and care for you? Is it fair towards them to throw your life away without caring who you're leaving behind and how they will feel about it? Do you even care then for their feelings if your pursuit of greater good is more important to you? You can save the world and make people you love sad and unhappy, and like they don't even care anymore to live, because you were the one who made them happy and now you're gone. Did you save the world for them or destroyed it for them instead, as the result?

Luffy has his own interest in saving his friends too: so he's not alone again. Humans aren't selfless beings, but it doesn't automatically make us bad people either. And sometimes, while pursuing selfish things, we do something that appear to be extremely selfless. But at the bottom of it: we also do it for themselves, even if it kills us.

Tokyo Babylon taught me that every act is selfish, even if it appears like we do it for someone else: we simply want to feel better about ourselves then. There's nothing wrong with that, as long as we don't lose the sight of other people's feelings on our way. We can always share, after all, and that sharing is the bridge between the lone islands that people are.

Luffy, if he dies, will also say, just like Seishiro: "I didn't do it for you. I did everything by my own choice". For myself. Despite the fact it is also true he does it to make his friends happy. Being selfish and being selfless is like two sides of the same coin and both choices can end up actually hurting people. In the first case, because you care too much about yourself and too little about feelings of others, and in second case because you care too little about yourself and still too little about feelings of people that love and care for you. Can you spot the thing in common here?

[sunshine-and-her-ikevil-stuff]

I downloaded both Ikesen and Ikevamp so I could make sure my choice was accurate. Probably. I might change my mind later since I only read the prologue and a chapter or two for those

So here's my reasoning from the game I'd least to most want to be in

Ikepri - I would never survive as Belle! I'd struggle enough as it is having to learn about having to run a kingdom and getting to know everyone in order to pick a king. What do you mean I also have to learn etiquette and put a whole lot of time into a believable story when I also have to be studying so I can chose a king? And all the other shit that happens.

And I'd find palace life stifling and hate having to not be myself so often. I'd be dead inside and probably outright fail. At that point the romance wouldn't even be worth it (with an exception for maybe Gil or Keith, but I still need to play their routes to figure that out) since I will then forever have to deal with politics.

I respect the hell out of Emma for it, but it is not for me

Ikesen - still iffy about this. But I feel like I would really struggle in the Sengoku period, and feel awkward there.

I can't really say much more than it's the vibes. And I know that in canon I'd be Japanese and know more, or maybe this isn't about who I'd be in canon. But I just feel like I would stick out like a sore thumb and never stop feeling like I'm out of place.

Plus, being surrounded by warlords when I have to rely solely on them for basic necessities might be stressful. Tho I might change my mind on this later as I get to know them

There's a strong possibility I'll change my mind about this later tho.

Maybe it would be more worth it to stay after the war is over? But I don't know what happens in the sequels yet, and something Harr said makes me think there's a little bit more fucked up about Cradle than I think.

Ikerev - It wouldn't be too bad. For my troubles, I get fun Isekai powers that make me strong and important! But the war would stress the hell out of me. Plus everything going on behind the scenes. And that I would be targeted for my power. But I do love the characters... makes me reconsider putting it in this slot.

And overall I feel the pros for this one, for me, aren't as good as the pros for-

Ikevamp - I get to be in a fun Gothic mansion and wander around it and probably get to do a ton of hobbies that I wished I had more time for. Also large mansion and getting time to myself. But I would also feel very self conscious because no matter what hobby I pick, there will always be someone in the mansion who can do it so much better.

And I just worry I wouldn't get along with the residents as much. I could be wrong since I just started the game. And I worry I would get bored only being in the mansion but being too scared to go out since it's unfamiliar and I won't fit in. Still strongly debating if I should put Ikerev in this slot instead.

Ikevil - Maybe I'm overestimating my tolerance for gore and tragedy, but I feel like this game is ideal for me. And even if I do get traumatized, at least I'll probably be able to draw gore better.

Also I could just be really biased because I love the characters. But I really do like this one the most.

Since they're all villains, I would feel like I wouldn't have to worry about being judged. Because "What's that? You think the way I skip around is weird? Okay, but I didn't kill someone just an hour ago. So-" And in general they're very accepting because they've been outcast themselves. I could, and would, feel comfortable being myself. Especially since I don't have expectations to live up to. And I wouldn't have to worry about them not liking any darkness in me because they know it well. And they're all so nice, and I would have fun interacting with all of them. And Victor would be so sweet and make my confidence sky-rocket with his compliments, and buy me clothes.

And I'd be set for life since Victor pays for my room and food. And I don't have to feel too bad since I technically have a job (part of which is experiencing horrors which partly balances out having it so good there), but I know Victor is lenient enough that he would forgive me if the report was late.

Downside: I'd have to become British /j

Imma read everyone else's reasoning after typing this. I didn't want anyone else influencing my decisions, but let's hope I don't change my mind too much after read I them.

Let's Have some fun...

Okay, my little rant earlier about wanting to not work got me to thinking. Out of the cybird ikemen games, if you had to pick only one to live in, which would you want and why?

Feel free to comment or reblog with your choice and why. I'd really just like to have some fun with this. I'll put my answer below the cut!

Okay, ikesen is my favorite of the games BUT if I'm being realistic on which one I could actually live/survive in...I am going to pick ikevamp. The mansion is much more modern and has things that I could adapt to better than say living in the Sengoku. Also, I would be MORE than happy to live in the mansion as a lady of leisure and be Comte's dress up doll (and fuck doll). Go to parties, wear pretty dresses. Read all day. Write all day. Stroll in the garden. It honestly sounds like a great deal to me.

[ode-to-fury]

I think I've boiled down all of my complaint about Veilguard to to things

1.) Lack of a companion dialogue wheel in the Lighthouse

I think whoever made this decision seriously misunderstood what the wheel is for. It's not for meaningless banter that you get out on missions anyway, or repetitive dialogue that doesn't add anything to the story, the dialogue wheel has been there since origins to tease out the companions' backstories and worldviews. How much Chantry lore would we have missed out on in Origins if not for Leliana? Or Crow lore if not for Zevran's talking about it? And also I wouldn't know the characters. And the companions are such important parts of the story in Dragon Age. I can't remember if da2 had dialogue wheels, but there were so many other oppertunities for Hawke to interact with the companions outside of that that I think they made up for it. It's also a way to centre Rook's bond with their companions, instead of the companions' bonds with each other. It irks me so much how they get to build such intense relationships with one another but I have to headcanon everything they feel about Rook. Let's face it, 90% of our Rooks' relationships with their companions is headcanon, and like... that's fine, I enjoy doing that and the game gives me enough that I can realistically do it without having to make up too much, but I've always thought like the companion relationships with each other I can headcanon off of banters from missions. Rook's relationship with them or whatever protagonist we're talking about has to be built and shown in game because me as the player should be the most important piece on the board. Sorry, that's just how videogame writing works. That's why Tav works in bg3 even though they're just as much of a 'nobody' as Rook is. I don't mind that Rook isn't all powerful or competent or whatever other critiques there are out there about Rook. I love Rook, they're probably my favourite da player character, but I want to feel that the companions love Rook too, or at least know them. I didn't feel like that with anyone other than Lucanis and Davrin.

Which brings me to

2.) The game isn't long enough.

I know people are going to argue with me on this one and that's perfectly fine, everyone has preferences about how long a game should be or not, but just bear with me for a second. The biggest part of this game is obviously 1.) the main questline, and 2.) the companoin quests. I actually like that there isn't too much other than that because I get completionist anxiety about sidequests but that's beside the point. My point is I don't really have an issue with the pacing of the main storyline, but if you are going to centre the companions in this game... finish their fucking storylines. I think Emmrich's quest is the most well-rounded out of all of them, and I still would have added at least two more quests to his. In fact, I would add at least two more quests to every single companion questline, and three more to Lucanis's. And do not get me started on the scenes with the companions. Though this could also be fine if they'd added the dialogue wheel. Because then we get bonding through that instead of having to put a whole cutscene in there. But anyway, yeah. Every single one of the questlines were rushed and it irks me SO MUCH because they could have been SO GOOD. Also the hardened character should have had alternate quests and cutscenes instead of just... not having any content. Neve got a few scenes, but Lucanis just... isn't a character if you harden him.

Tldr: the two main issues I have with Veilguard that could have basically fixed the game for me is 1.) a companion dialogue wheel at the lighthouse and 2.) a longer game.

[a-student-out-of-time]

More Real Talk

Hey everyone. Mod Bubbles here.

I'm not gonna beat around the bush here: you all know what's going on, you've all heard about it, you don't need me to tell you about it. You've heard about it and you're gonna hear about it a lot these next four years.

I don't want to talk about that. Instead, I wanna address something else that, on a personal level, I believe is a lot more serious but a lot easier to grapple with.

You wanna know what I believe is the biggest problem we're dealing with these days? You can point to a lot of things, but at the core, they all have the same root to them.

Hopelessness.

Yeah, a DR blog talking about hope, how crazy is that?

But in all seriousness, it's at the core of every argument, every political discussion, every post I see made about not just the near future, but the long term as well. It's always the same points about neo-fascism, climate change, wars, cyberpunk dystopias, and global extinction. Very few people today seem to have any faith that the world can be better.

And I can't say I blame them. I was there too once, when I was a teenager. I lived in constant fear of the future, worried about what it means for me, and I'd get trapped in doomscrolling cycles. I'd lay awake at night and cry my eyes out. Yet I'm still here, on the cusp of turning 30, and I'm at a better point in my life than I've ever been.

Fear and desperation are ultimately useful, but they can be self-destructive. They can prevent you from seeing the truth and make you ironically vulnerable to the ones you should be most afraid of.

Why do people join cults or militias or vote for bad politicians? Are they all just stupid or evil? Sure, some may be, but most are just desperate, afraid and don't understand how the world really works. They need a helping hand with deprogramming what they were told.

Here's the facts:

We've already beaten climate change's worst predictions and the changes we've made can be reversed.

Plastic pollution in the oceans is being cleaned up.

Conservation success stories just keep coming.

More people are living better lives nowadays, with lower rates of child morality, starvation, crime, preventable diseases, even bullying rates have declined.

The Green Energy Revolution is here and nothing is going to stop it.

New advancements in materials science are on the way and will revolutionize everything from construction to manufacturing to space exploration.

I say all this because the ultimate source of hope is knowledge. Yes, you can open yourself up to a lot of dark avenues when you start learning about the world, but you'll also learn how much good there is out there being done.

This isn't a distraction, it's how I help people understand that the world can always be better and that just one person being in power will not change that.

Now, I know what you may say to that. I've seen posts about how the internet is going to be censored, that propaganda spread everywhere, that there'll be concentration camps, the constitution will be ripped up, etc.

And to that, I have to be honest: I've already heard it all before.

The things you're worried about today? I was worried about them in 2009 during the Great Recession. People worried about them in 2005 when Bush was re-elected, and the concerns there also included terrorism. Do we even still talk about Al-Qaeda? Not really!

And misinformation in this age has always been a problem, especially on the big sites. These are old problems brought to the forefront, and it's always been important to learn the skills to spot them.

More importantly, all this assumes the administration would actually be able to implement any of their promises. Every administration does that and few of the truly big ones about change have happened, especially because said promises ran counter to reality within the system.

I'm not trying to downplay any concerns about the situation, I promise. It's okay to be sad, scared, and concerned about peoples' safety. It's okay to cry if you need to. What you should not do is give up just because of all this.

I'm going to sound very harsh for a moment, but I need to say it: by being doomerist and defeatist, you're part of the problem. You not only stop helping, you run the risk of discouraging other people from trying because you believe it's pointless. When you succumb to pessimistic nihilism, you create a self-fulfilling prophecy that only rewards those who benefit from your inaction or your death.

Don't do that to people. Don't do that to yourself.

The world gets better when you first believe it can be better. How do you do that?

Well, I can't speak for everyone, but here's some suggestions that I'm sticking to:

Live daily life. Get up, eat, stay hydrated, take your medication, bathe, dress comfortably, listen to music, watch a movie, clean your home, play a game, hang out with friends, just do things that make you happy. As you should always do.

Stop looking at doomer posts. It literally does not help with anything and they are not credible sources of information just because they're cynical.

Do not let go of your ambitions. Always have a dream or a goal in mind, no matter what it is, and always aim for it. It's never stupid, it's never too late, it's something you aspire to and that's really awesome.

Stop looking for enemies. There are more important things to devote your time to than arguing over inane bullshit on the internet. That's been true since the start.

Be kind to people. Let go of whatever anger and resentment you may have for people, try to make new friends, and recognize when you can help someone else in need. Sometimes it's as simple as letting them know you care.

Be kind to yourself. You are not a failure, you're not a burden, you're not a lost cause, you can always improve as long as you're alive.

Remove toxicity from your life. Cut out bad influences and replace them with better things. If you have to leave a toxic environment, you can work on doing so.

Always learn new things. It's really fun to end the day with a new piece of knowledge you didn't have the day before.

Let yourself feel. Are you angry? Sad? Scared? Worried? Let yourself feel it, and then you can move on. Don't bury an emotion or let it stagnate.

Learn to recognize bad faith posts/misinformation. This is a critical skill to possess and one you need to always pass on to others. Not everyone who posts it is evil, sometimes all they need is a simple correction on a matter and the situation will be resolved.

Clown on Evil. Whenever people want you to fear them or take them seriously, you mock them, make memes about them, treat them as a joke and defuse whatever power they try to have.

Be true to yourself. Above all, don't let the next 4 years turn you into something you're not.

I say all this as someone who's been around longer than a lot of people who follow me: your future is not empty. I wished I'd done years ago everything I'm doing now, but I've decided I'd rather do them than spend the rest of my life lamenting and wondering what might've been.

You can spend years convincing yourself there is no future, and then the future arrives and you have no idea what to do anymore.

Change- actual change- starts from below and works its way up. And no matter how much life beats you down, no matter what's on TV or what the future may hold, you can always choose to do something about it.

You can always choose to be kind to yourself and to others. You can always choose to believe. And that's where you can start.

[sosa2imagines]

Hey can I please request a Lloyd x reader where she is his ex-wife but he wants her back? Maybe they have a child together (they're the only people who he is really sweet and soft with, he lights up when he sees them) and idk maybe their child wants them together too? He's trying to find excuses to see her or kiss her and he has their child as a support?

Idk whatever you find interesting or have inspo for ❤️

Thank you for this amazing ask. I hope you like it. Warning- Little angst and fluff.

Your hands tremble slightly as you pack your son's backpack for his weekend with Lloyd. It’s a routine exchange, one you've done countless times since the divorce, but the familiar ache always lingers. 

Sharing custody of Victor is always a bittersweet affair. Every time you see him, the resemblance to his father becomes more and more apparent. His bright eyes and mischievous smile are like a living reminder of what you once had together. Yet, despite the pang in your heart, you push your feelings aside, knowing that this arrangement is for the best.

The doorbell rings, and you exhale deeply before opening it.

Lloyd stands before you, immaculate in his polo shirt and with that same cocky smirk you've come to know all too well. Despite your best efforts, your pulse quickens at the sight of him, a reaction you've tried to suppress but have never been able to completely control.

Damn that moustache! Always been your weakness.

You fix your expression, forcing a neutral smile as you step aside to let him in. You're used to this routine by now, but the sight of him still dredges up a mix of emotions you'd rather keep bottled up.

“Ready for our little guy?” he asks, his voice annoyingly smooth, like melted chocolate. Victor bolts past you, yelling, “Daddy!” as Lloyd scoops him up effortlessly, peppering his son's face with exaggerated kisses that make the boy squeal with laughter.  

When your son was born, Lloyd had named him Victor, saying he's his biggest victory in life.

You force a polite smile, ignoring the way Lloyd's eyes flick to yours, softening. He always looks at you like that, like you're still the most important thing in his world, even after everything.  

After Sierra Six.  

The memory burns like acid. Sierra Six had been your breaking point. Lloyd's obsession with catching the rogue operative consumed him, pulling him deeper into his dangerous world and further away from you. You had begged him to walk away, to prioritize his family, but he couldn’t let it go.  

“You don't understand, Sugar!” he'd said during one of your final arguments, his voice sharp but his eyes pleading. “This isn't just a mission. It's personal.”  

It became personal for you too, when Six's retaliation nearly cost you and Victor your lives. A car bomb meant for Lloyd had detonated outside your home, leaving shards of glass and smoke as a grim reminder of the risk you couldn’t live with anymore. You’d left that night, taking Victor with you, and filed for divorce shortly after.  

“Thanks for packing his stuff…” Lloyd says now, breaking you out of your thoughts. He hesitates, then adds, “You could come with us, you know? We're just going to the park.”  

“That’s your time with him…” you reply, keeping your tone neutral.  

Victor tugs at your sleeve. “But, Mommy, you should come! Daddy says he misses you.”  

Your breath catches, and Lloyd clears his throat, awkwardly running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Victor, buddy, why don't you go grab your soccer ball from the car?”  

Once Victor bounds away, Lloyd steps closer. “He’s not wrong…” he says softly, his gaze holding yours.  

“Lloyd…” You start to protest, but he cuts you off.  

“I know I screwed up. I know I didn’t protect you the way I should have, but I’m trying, Sugar. I’m trying to fix things. For you. For Victor. For us.”  

You cross your arms, a shield against the vulnerability in his voice. “You can’t just say these things and expect everything to magically go back to how it was.”  

“Then let me show you...” he says, taking another step closer. His hand brushes yours, testing waters. “Let me prove it to you.”  

Before you can respond, Victor runs back, his soccer ball in hand. “I got it! Mommy, are you coming with us?”  

Lloyd kneels down, pulling Victor into a side hug. “Tell you what, buddy. Why don’t we see if we can convince Mommy to join us next time, huh?”  

Victor pouts dramatically, his big eyes, the same shade of blue as his father’s turns on you, “Please, Mommy? Daddy says families should stick together.”  

Your heart squeezes at the sight of them, your two boys. Lloyd stands, his eyes never leaving yours, and he leans down just slightly, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath.  

“Think about it…” he murmurs, before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. It lingers, a promise in its tenderness, and leaves you standing there, your resolve crumbling ever so slightly.  

As they walk away, Victor waves enthusiastically, and Lloyd throws you a smile over his shoulder. It’s cocky and hopeful all at once, like he knows the kiss wasn’t just for show.  

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll find a way to win you back.  

The weekend passes slowly without Victor. You spend the quiet hours tidying up, trying to distract yourself from the lingering thoughts of Lloyd’s kiss and the words he left unspoken. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop replaying his plea, “Let me prove it to you.”  

On Sunday evening, Lloyd drops Victor off as planned. Your son runs inside, chattering about their adventures at the park, the ice cream truck they chased down, and how Daddy let him drive his tiny remote-controlled car.  

Lloyd lingers at the door.  

“Can I come in for a minute?” he asks. His tone is careful, cautious, as though he’s testing the waters.  

You hesitate, but something about the vulnerability in his expression makes you step aside. “Just for a minute…” you say.  

Victor is already in the living room, playing with his toys, oblivious to the quiet tension between you and his father.  

Lloyd takes a deep breath, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. About things not magically going back to how they were.” He pauses, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re right. They won’t. And they shouldn’t. Because I want things to be better than they were before.”  

You swallow hard, your heart beating faster, “Lloyd, I…”  

“Let me finish, Sugar.” His voice softens, and he steps closer, closing the distance between you. “I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight. I’m not asking you to forget what I did or the pain I caused. I just… I’m asking for a chance to show you that I’ve changed. That I’m trying to be the man you and Victor deserve.”  

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you hold them back. “You think one kiss and a few sweet words will fix everything?”  

“No!” he says firmly. “But I think being here, every day, showing you how much I care… that might. I’m not giving up on us, Sugar. Not now, not ever.”  

Before you can respond, Victor runs up to the two of you, holding a drawing in his little hands. “Look! I made this at Daddy’s house!”  

The picture is messy but a clear stick-figure family of three, all holding hands. Above it, in Victor’s uneven handwriting, are the words, “My family.”

Your chest tightens, and you glance at Lloyd, whose eyes are filled with unshed tears. He kneels down to Victor’s level, gently ruffling his hair. “That’s a beautiful drawing, buddy.”  

Victor grins and turns to you. “Mommy, don’t you think we should be a family again? Daddy’s been so sad without you.”  

You look down at your son, then at Lloyd, who is watching you with a mixture of hope and fear.  

“I don’t know, Victor,” you say softly. “It’s… complicated.”  

“But you love Daddy, right?” Victor asks innocently, his big blue eyes staring up at you.  

You hesitate, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue. “Yes…” you finally admit. “I do.”  

Lloyd stands, his expression unreadable. “Sugar, I know I’ve made mistakes. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for them if you’ll let me.”  

Victor tugs on your hand, his face lighting up with excitement. “Please, Mommy? Let Daddy stay.”  

The weight of the moment presses down on you. Slowly, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. Let’s see where this goes.”  

Lloyd’s eyes widen in surprise, and then a rare, genuine smile spreads across his face. “You mean it?”  

“Yes,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But you’re on thin ice, Hansen.”  

He chuckles, his confidence returning. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Sugar.”  

Victor cheers, throwing his arms around both of you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a flicker of hope.  

Maybe, just maybe, you can be a family again.  

The days that follow are a whirlwind of emotions. Lloyd takes your cautious ‘okay’ as a challenge to prove himself, and he doesn’t waste any time.  

He starts small, picking Victor up from school, helping him with homework, and showing up at your door with dinner. Each time he’s around, you find yourself torn between wanting to push him away and feeling your walls crumble a little more.  

One evening, as you’re washing dishes, Lloyd appears beside you, drying a plate you hadn’t asked him to touch. “You know,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “we make a pretty good team.”  

“Lloyd, I don’t need your help.” you say, trying to focus on the sink.  

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You might not need it, but I like being here. With you.”  

Your face heats up, and you elbow him gently. “Back off, Hansen.”  

But instead of retreating, he grins and presses a kiss to your temple, quick and soft. You whirl on him, glaring. “What do you think you’re doing?”  

“Testing my limits,” he replies smugly, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”  

You roll your eyes, but the blush on your cheeks betrays you. He notices, of course, and his grin only grows wider.  

Lloyd’s efforts intensifies over the period.

Over the next few weeks, Lloyd becomes a constant presence in your life. He shows up unannounced with groceries, fixes the broken cabinet in your kitchen, and even surprises Victor with a mini soccer goal for the backyard.  

One afternoon, while Victor is napping, you find yourself sitting on the porch with Lloyd. He’s unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on the horizon.  

“Why are you doing all this?” you ask, breaking the silence.  

He looks at you, his expression sincere. “Because I lost you once, Sugar. And I’m not making that mistake again. You and Victor… you’re everything to me.”  

The raw honesty in his voice leaves you speechless. Before you can think of a response, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours. It’s soft, tentative, as if he’s giving you a chance to pull away. But you don’t.  

When he deepens the kiss, his hand rests gently on your cheek, you lose yourself for a moment, the familiar warmth of him overwhelming your senses.  

When you finally pull back, your heart is racing. “You’re impossible…” you mutter, your cheeks burning.  

“And you’re beautiful,” he replies, his lips quirking into a lopsided smile. 

Despite your reluctance to admit it, Lloyd’s persistence begins to wear down your defenses. He’s patient with Victor, kind to you, and relentless in his mission to win you back.  

One night, as you’re tucking Victor into bed, he grabs your hand. “Mommy, do you still love Daddy?”  

Caught off guard, you glance at Lloyd, who’s standing in the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.  

“I…” you start, unsure of how to answer.  

“I know you do,” Victor says confidently. “Because you smile more when he’s here.”  

Lloyd chuckles softly, stepping into the room. “Our kid is a great observer, you can’t hide anything from him.” he teases.  

“Go to sleep, Victor…” you say quickly, pressing a kiss to your son’s forehead before retreating to the living room.  

Lloyd follows you, closing the door behind him. “He’s not wrong, you know,” he says quietly.  

You sigh, turning to face him. “Lloyd, this isn’t easy for me. You broke my trust…”  

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life earning it back!” he interrupts, stepping closer. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I’ll fight for you every day if that’s what it takes.”  

Tears well up in your eyes as you finally let the weight of his words sink in. “I’m scared…” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.   

“I know,” he whispers, cupping your face in his hands. “But I’m here, Sugar. I’m not going anywhere.”  

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of pancakes. Victor’s laughter echoes from the kitchen, and when you walk in, you see Lloyd standing at the stove, flipping pancakes like he’s been doing it for years.  

“Morning, Sugar,” he says, flashing you a boyish grin. “Thought I’d make breakfast for my family.”  

You shake your head, but there’s no hiding the smile on your face.  

Later that day, as the three of you play soccer in the backyard, Victor pauses and looks up at you. “Does this mean Daddy’s staying forever?”  

You glance at Lloyd, who’s watching you with hopeful eyes. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah, buddy... I think it does.”  

Victor cheers, throwing his arms around both of you. Lloyd pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your hair.  

“I love you…” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.  

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you could have your happy ending after all. 

 

Taglist- @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

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@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

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@unaxv @pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss @kpopgirlbtssvt

[musicallyseducingallthehotties]

Pffft of course I can find the clit.

I'm the world's most amazing lover. If I wasn't able to find her bean, then that would put my credibility on the line!

<Well if you're so confident, why not you teach them how to find it?>

...You know what, Ninja Brian? I think it's finally time for me to put all this overabundance of reproductive anatomy knowledge to good use! Especially since there's a bunch of sexy, sexy people out there that can't seem to find it.

Isn't that right, men?

And also ladies~?

Mmhm. Don't play coy, babe. You're probably just as clueless about your own anatomy as much as the guys. There's nothing to be ashamed about.

<Dan. Get on with it.>

Right! Right..

Lay back and get comfortable, 'cuz I'm gonna teach all of you how to find that secret ladyboner~.

...yeah. I said ladyboner.

Ladies can get boners too.

In fact, when you really think about it, clitorises are basically tiny girl dicks.

They even have similar parts!

The little button's the boober, the equally small body that its attached to is the shaft, but the most important thing to look out for is the hood.

See that little ghost wizard hat the glans is wearing?

That's her clitoral hood. It's basically the girl version of foreskin. It the stuff that covers and protects the boober and shaft from any unnecessary outside friction. They're sensitive to even the slightest touch.

<But where's the hood?>

Thank you for being my audience surrogate, Ninja Brian!

The answer lies beneath those thick, beautiful lips below her hips.

I'm, of course, talking about the labia.

Specifically, the pudendal cleft. It's the vertical slit that is covered by her labia majora.

That's where the labia minora, and by extension all the other sensitive parts of the vag, live.

Her hood is going to be at the very front of her body. Depending on the lady, her hood could be either super shy and hiding in the pudendal cleft, also known as an innie, or it could be sticking out and standing proud between her major labes, also known as an outie.

<No one calls them "labes", Danny.>

Oh they do. Look it up.

Anyway, it's best to get her body in the mood first before you go diving for pearls. Get some of that foreplay action going. Then, once the two of you got blood flowing in aaaaaaall the right places, now is the time to start locating that ladyboner.

It shouldn't be difficult. While the rest of the lady bits are thicker and redder, the bean's gonna stick out. The bigger it is, the easier it is to find. If you still can't find it, pull back the hood.

Congratulations! You found the clit!

<Achievement unlocked: Clitoris found. 🎉>

I hope all of you sexy, sexy people enjoyed this little lesson in sexual anatomy. Or as I like to call it: Anatomy 169~.

<Ayyyyy Ninja Brian saw what you did there.>

I know. It's a pretty f--king awesome name.

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[fall0utmind]

If I'm allowed to speak out, I don't think Marc is going to be a gentleman. He's a hunter, it's in his nature, as soon as he feels blood he'll eat you alive. All his careful words are now more focused on trying to be polite and calm the excitement that was caused by his transition to ducati. (I'm still sure that Valentino is playing some kind of secret game in the background, so it might even be dangerous). So this is, well, not exactly a lie, but rather gentleness and something like an attempt at mind games (and most likely part of Ducati's PR strategy) to mitigate the impending storm. I can't say what Pecco thinks, but he always tries to appear like an "honest racer" compared to others, but Marc is almost 100% lying, he came here to win the ninth title and I think everyone knows that.

Someone on the forum gave a wonderful quote, and I think it perfectly describes the situation on behalf of Marc: "Pecco will be the leader of the garage, number one. And then I'll surpass him."

Completely agree!!!

Marc isn't a gentleman on track, he never has been and I doubt he ever will be.

I mean, he seems lovely off track most of the time. But let's be real he's a pain in the ass on track. He fights you at every corner - he will do ANYTHING for a win. Like you say, he's a hunter. People who have competed against him know- dovi, dani, Jorge. They know he's a devil on that bike.

I absolutely believe he's playing a PR game here. He's at a new team. He's sussing out the situation before he pounces. Frankly, I think he's going to destroy pecco next year. I do like pecco but I feel at the moment, on this current grid, there are very few riders who can challenge someone like Marc. The calibre just doesn't seem the same as it once was. Maybe I will eat my words, I don't know.

Either way, being a gentleman on track isn't part of motorsports. It's important to note that this doesn't mean they're horrible off track. They can still apologise and be kind and likeable when they aren't racing. (Or y'know, pull a valentino and start a hate campaign against someone a decade and a half your junior)

Vale wasn't, neither was Jorge, or Marc, or Casey. Even in f1, max isn't, neither is lewis or Schumacher, Rosberg, Sebastian. The list goes on. You do not achieve great success in motorsport by letting people walk over you.

To be clear, i don't think pecco does let people walk over him... well, maybe a little bit last year. And I do think he's talented. But I defo think they're pedalling a narrative, and I'm not sure it'll work in his favour. No one remembers the polite kind one who won less....

I hope yo see some really good battles between them next year and I'm sure marc will be going for the ninth (I dont doubt he will get it)

[circular-jerkular]

Little Is A Dumb Word Anyways

The old man in this case is syscourse. I do not want to start shit with the individual linked here, but I think it's vitally important to discuss how atrocious these sources are, particularly as others have been in agreement with them. Here's a link to the post. Content warning for SA, as it's not tagged. This post isn't here to bitch about the user who posted this, however -- it's to dismantle the ideas they're presenting, which they keep presenting. Do not, for the love of God, fucking contact the user with this. It is blatantly obvious they do not want to hear it, and they've already received enough harassment at this point. They will not be convinced out of their misinformation by harassment, and I am very disappointed in everyone who chose to go after them. You are worse than the misinformation being spread.

I am not writing this for you, OP, and genuinely, if you happen to read this, I hope you (and your thumb, I saw about your hospital visit) are doing alright.

But I figure the general syscourse community needs to be able to discern real information from... what you posted. Because you're trying to pass your opinion off as fact using illegitimate sources that don't actually support what you're saying. And that's something that does need addressed.

TW for, well uh, trauma discussions, lol. Also, please excuse the color coding -- it's needed for me to process just what on Earth I'm writing.

STEP ONE: SOURCE REVIEW

So, let's talk about the sources OP uses here first!

Source One: The Mighty

To start, their first source is from The Mighty, which is a newletter opinion article website dedicated to mental health. This particular article is someone discussing "every type of alter role," though they only actually depict 10. What a lovely article this is, which:

Assumes every system has a host

Discusses types of alters but not really "roles" as depicted in medical literature (such as "animal," "dead," and "demonic," as well as little, as none of those re actually 'roles')

States that demonic alters "come about by the host blaming the abuse on a supernatural being or the abuser using it as a reason to hurt the child." This is not universal and is not even the case for most demonic alters I see.

Uses the term fictive, which is not a medical term for the role. Also doesn't mention factual introjects, which used to be one of the most common types of introjects in systems (or at least were cited as that at one point, I distinctly recall that).

Assumes every system has gatekeepers

Simply put, this is all the opinion of one system, based on their own experiences. They have no sources, they have no claims beyond their own ideas, and while what they say is perfectly valid for their system, it doesn't fit mine. For instance: My demonic alters did not form from supernatural beliefs and have their own actual roles beyond being demonic, I have no host and no gatekeepers, and I have no fictives but I do have fictional introjects (I do not use the term fictive). This article is almost entirely useless to understand my system.

So, what do they say about littles? "Unlike biological children, they can usually understand very complex concepts." So littles are not biological children and can understand complex concepts (yknow, like consent). "They commonly speak and act like children." Commonly, but not always. "They can be a version of the host as a child, the child that was wanted, or just a trauma-free version of the host." None of these options actually describe my littles in the slightest. And the rest of the description is entirely personal information about their own system.

In general, this source is entirely based on personal information and what the individual has gleaned from their experiences with systemhood. I could just as easily post my own "10 types of alters in systems" and include my dreamway part and the two created alters, along with "elf alters," since I have one. I could also depict littles as my own are represented, which would be something like "Unlike biological children, they usually understand very complex concepts. They rarely speak like actual children or act like actual children. They're sometimes younger versions of various parts in the system, or are meant to hold the trauma of maturity. Part of their healing is reclaiming childhood, but part of it is reclaiming the sexual freedom that was stolen from them." Cause, well, that's my experiences.

Source Two: The Dissociative System Fandom Wiki

Their next source is the... fandom... wikipedia for Dissociative Systems. I did not even realize they made a fandom page for my disorder.

Interesting choices all around.

Anyways, I don't think I need to explain how inaccurate a wikipedia page can be. This is not a scholarly source; there aren't any references to back up the ideas presented in this very short article, and the edit history could be literally anyone with internet access. A little themselves could've written this article.

So, what does this source say? "A little is a type of alter that takes on characteristics of a child." Vague, but I suppose that works. "They may appear younger in the innerworld and often act like a little kid." May appear younger, but not necessarily will appear younger. Often act like a little kid, but not always. "Each system's littles are different in what they can and cannot do. Some littles may be able to drive or work while others cannot." Oh. Okay, so every system works differently, and some littles may do adult tasks. "It is important to treat each little differently depending on what they need." Oh, awesome, so this article acknowledges that some littles will need something different. My littles require sexual things in order to heal, so that's awesome that this article acknowledges those cases! "A little often is a traumatized young part that hold onto the memories of abuse the system suffered during that age, but not always." Yep, my littles are not that. Actually, it's mostly me (Rice) who holds onto that! So nice that this article shows that. "A little tends to be between the ages of 0-10 years old, but different systems may use a different age scale to define who is a little in their system." That's the last bit -- acknowledgement that different sysems define littles differently than just 0-10 -- which is nice, since we count our ageslider who is usually 21 when he fronts now, and our 12 (13?) year old.

So, overall, this article can be summarized with, "Every system is different, so treat littles the way they need to be treated for each individual system."

Source Three: Trauma Dissociation Dot Com

Finally, a fairly decent source. At the very least, this website cites the information it provides, which is a damn step up from the last two. Unfortunately, I cannot find much information about the site managers, but I can find that the aim of this website is, essentially, summarizing information from medical sources. Not bad! I would love if someone with more free time could dig into this one a little bit!

The linked article is long. And of course, with any long piece of DID information, I definitely disagree with some of what it posits. For instance: "All the alters together make up the person's whole personality." This idea, presented with this wording, can be incredibly confusing for systems -- this information was presented to me to mean that we all had to fuse together in order to be a true person, when really, it simply means each alter in the system as a whole is responsible for the outward personality presented to others. I do wish it were rephrased!

To keep a long article short, let's see what this says about littles:

"Often nicknamed "littles" or "little ones" are a common type of alter. Several child alters exist in most people with DID." So far, so good; many DID systems experience having littles in their system. "Child alters often talk in a child-like way, but unlike a biological child they can normally understand abstract concepts and long words." Mm, abstract concepts, such as consent. They are unlike biological children. "They are often found to hold memories of child abuse which occurred at around the age the child alter feels he/she is. [7]:18" Often, but not always. Mine do not have those experiences! "Some may have the speech or appearance of a very young child, the youngest being unable to talk, read or write. [7]:18" Glad none of mine are like that, and that it acknowledges that only some child alters are like this. "Child alters may gradually age of may remain the same age. Some child parts may hold feelings of terror and pain, while others may be playful and fun-living and have only positive memories. [16]:60 A child alter may also be an idealized representation of the "perfect child" from the "perfect" family, for example the "good boy". [7]:18" (Emphasis mine). So, repeatedly, this article also acknowledges that all of this is subjective to the specific system's experience. It's an overview and nothing more.

TL;DR: Each article acknowledges that sometimes, littles can understand abstract or mature concepts, beyond what is expected of biological children. The first article shares that littles understand complex concepts. The second article determines that every system's little requires different things. The final article describes common aspects of littles while also acknowledging they are not the same as biological children.

None of these sources agree with OP's assertion that littles cannot consent and must act like children.

Your own sources disagree with you. Each of them suggest that littles do not have to act childlike, and even says most of them do not think like biological children.

STEP TWO: RESEARCH

However satisfying it is to get a good debunk out there, it's also important to correct misinformation by providing new information to fill that void. And, to be frank, two-thirds of those sources were garbage anyways, regardless on if they agree with OP's opinion or not. So, what does the research actually say about littles?

Unfortunately, I do not have the free-time I once did. Even with the grace of delays and snow days that I have received from Mother Nature recently, and the hard work I put in at work to get all my grades completed fully this past month, I just cannot put in the time to find all the various articles on littles and child parts. So why don't I just toss out the big guns?

Source: Therapeutic Hazards of Treating Child Alters as Real Children in Dissociative Identity Disorder

This paper was published in the Journal of Trauma and Dissociation, volume five, and was written by Shielagh R. Shusta-Hochberg, a clinical psychologist who worked in NY at the time of publishing. She now has a private practice in Naples, Florida. The article focuses on the treatment of littles in therapeutic settings.

The article opens up with a basic description of how DID forms, as well as the dangers of misdiagnosis and mistreatment. It's a lovely review of the horrors of having this disorder. The author also mentions how therapists need to be gentle while also setting firm boundaries -- something I've seen echoed frequently in treatment guidelines.

Then, we get to the parts about child alters.

"These child alters can be identified by any or all of the following: childlike vocal tone and pitch, sing-song or stilted speech cadence, simple or naïve vocabulary, body language and posture including widely open eyes with raised brows, frankness or timidity, brief attention span and rapidly shifting focus, behavior such as playing with office objects, and childish affective tone." Shockingly, even though I do not experience littles who act like children, my littles do fall into some of these categories. They do use more childlike vocals, and they do have open eyes and body language that is different from the adult parts of me. Notably, the author does not say a little must be these things to be classified as a little; only that they can be identified in this way. She continues, "Putnam (1989) has observed, “Child personalities may be easily recognized by their nervous fidgeting, movement overflow, and childlike gestures (e.g., rubbing the nose with the back of the hand)” (p. 122)." I have to disagree with Putnam here, however, as more often, my adult parts display these traits -- due to our autistic tendencies. Which, could open up a very interesting conversation about how autistic adults are treated like children, just like littles are... anyways. "Child alters are so common in cases of DID that that every clinician treating the disorder, however briefly, is likely to have encountered them. Child and infant personality states often outnumber the adult aspects of a patient’s system." Mmm, I would love a source on that. Unfortunately, there is none -- poor authorship there imo.

I like what she includes next, though, so much that I'll include the entire paragraph in full: "It is important to remember that the patient is an adult, despite the childlike ego-states. These parts are not actual children. I am in agreement with Ross (1997) who is of the opinion that “child alters are not packets of childness retained in a surrounding sea of adult psyche. They are stylized packets of adult psyche. . . . I hold the child alters responsible for their behavior in the same way as the adult host personality”(p. 147)." Once again, as everyone has been saying for the past day, littles in adult bodies are still adults. They are not actual children! Ross treats littles with the expectation of adult responsibility, and I think that's really important.

The article continues with how to explain DID to various parts and have the patient accept the diagnosis, as that's a common struggle. It doesn't hold much bearing on this conversation, so I'll skip it for brevity, but I do so love the technique this article describes of window blinds. But then. The author goes in a wild left turn, one that honestly I think my therapist could benefit from hearing. Essentially, she posits that, since child parts are often seen as so different from the system -- oftentimes with childlike mannerisms, for instance -- then, "The clinician unbends and reacts to the “child” in familiar ways, responding with more warmth and simpler speech. Thus, child self-states elicit and reinforce nurturing and care-taking responses on the part of therapists." Basically, treating them like children makes the therapy less effective.

The case studies (as in, true experiences of DID systems) she presents where therapy has been made less effective -- or even completely denied and impossible for the patient -- are horrifying to me, from an outside perspective. She describes cases wherein:

A patient stormed out because a new therapist would not hold her child parts when they fronted, insisting that her old therapist would do so.

A patient breaks down at the suggestion from a friend that they go watch an animated cartoon movie that has monsters in it, as her child parts cannot handle that.

A patient completely socially isolates because she spends so much money on her littles that she cannot afford her rent, and she lies to her friends about who the toys are for.

A therapist throws a child-part party for her DID patients, because it's "repairative" for the childhood that was lost. Despite the adult parts of the patients feeling disturbed by this, they go along with it, retreating deeper into the consciousness to avoid the situation. Then the littles are upset that the experience turns into a therapy session, rather than a fun party.

And, lastly, a description of a woman who falls prey to SA due to an older gentleman emotionally manipulating her younger parts.

All of these occur because the system (or even the therapist) is treating their littles like actual children.

This is horrific to me as someone who did have parts who we treated exactly like this. Our littles -- yes, the ones we frequently talk about being adults and having sexual desires and who do adult things -- used to be child parts through and through. Sie could not function as an adult when we were in high school, and she only started to get there when we were in college. Which... okay, when we were in high school, we weren't even an adult. So that makes some sense.

But Sie absolutely was 100% the type of child part that is frequently described by those who isolate littles and treat them like children. And the fact is, isolating littles and treating them exactly the same as children is harmful to many systems, and can prove to be a barrier to healing.

OUGH! STILL MORE TO READ. Speedrunning it now, the next section discusses treating littles like, well, part of a system. "The work may involve bringing the patient around toward a more family systems approach toward the DID (Chu, 1998), stressing that the safety of the “children” is ultimately in the domain of the patient herself, and not that of her therapist, psychiatrist, parents, partner, employer or friends. The fact that there is only one body despite feelings to the contrary is sometimes a very difficult truth to accept for DID patients." I repeat: It is the job of the patient, and not anyone else, to ensure the safety of littles.

The next section of the article discusses real-world safety concerns with littles, which I feel like are discussed frequently already, but really hones in on the fact that it is the system's responsibility (and nobody elses) to be responsible for taking care of their system. Examples include:

Switching while driving to a child part who cannot drive

A child part forcing a patient to go to an appointment, which worsened physical pain

A patient (it doesn't specify a child part, but I can assume that based on the topic of this article) suffers bad falls from the littles attempting things beyond their capabilities

Not an example, but she also mentions medication issues and how it might be needed to have a medication manager.

The author of the article specifically calls out that adult parts should be in control for difficult tasks that require them, and I fully agree. Until a child part is capable of handling adult tasks, then adult parts should be the ones handling things.

Next, she discusses re-parenting, and frankly, I fully agree here too. The parenting has to come from within, not from a therapist -- and definitely not strangers online dictating what littles should do. The article does push toward fusion (in this case, labeling it integration) of parts, and she addresses that many systems view this as a sort of death. "The host may misinterpret integration as death, saying something such as, “We love the kids. We’re never going to integrate. It’s not fair that they have to die.”" Treating littles like children would definitely contribute to that fear.

And then.... Fuck, man, the article rips my heart out by including a statement from littles within a patient's own system -- a patient whose child parts were repeatedly treated as children, over and over again. Here's the whole quote.

"It’s hard for the bigger parts to take us seriously. It’s hard to be out in a grownup body, especially in the early days of awareness of the DID. The protectors want to protect us too much now from reality, and we can deal with it now. They are overprotective and there’s no need to be. We are as much a part of the whole system as the other parts and want to be equal. As the walls come down, we can share our childlike joy with those (older parts) and they won’t close us out. We can tolerate their seriousness. And we’re able to comfort them, not only them comforting us. They can hold us but we can comfort them, because they need to be loved, comforted, or forgiven. Barriers are coming down. It’s mutual.”

I fully suggest reading that full article.

TL;DR: Treating littles as children in a system can be incredibly harmful for the patient, in many different ways. In the end, it is up to the individual system to reparent themselves, and it is not anyone else's job -- and, really, no one else's right -- to speak over that system's functions.

STEP THREE: PERSONAL REMARKS

As much as I would have loved to find more, discuss more, and go deep in depth with this research, I just... can't. I don't have the time anymore. And genuinely, I don't expect others to.

What I do expect is that others don't try to pass off their opinions as fact. And the thing is, regardless of how many times you post "It's just an opinion," that does not negate that you then attempted to back up that opinion as if it was supported by medical literature. You attempted to say that your opinion was supported by medical facts. And the fact is, the medical literature disagrees with your opinion, with sources to back it up.

I want to address some of the common things I see from systems who try to dictate how other littles act.

"But your littles are vulnerable." One, not all littles, according to medical studies. Two, isn't the goal to heal and make it so that my littles are not so vulnerable as to be a danger/dysfunction for me? Isn't the goal to make them less vulnerable? How do you propose we do that without also engaging with safe risk?

"But your littles aren't safe." One, that is for every single system to decide for themselves. Two, the Dignity of Risk is in effect here, in that it's okay if someone else gets hurt. Yes, even badly hurt. It's not the concern of anyone but the system if they get hurt.

"But my littles/my friend's littles-" Stop. Regardless of any trauma you or your friend may have, it does not impact anyone else. Your trauma is not my trauma. It is vastly, vastly different.

"If your partner fucks your littles, they're a pedophile." Pedophilia is specifically attraction to a child's body. I will not be posting any pictures of my body on here for fear of the Ban Hammer, but you have to understand that I am not a child. Even if my littles were to fuck my partner, my partner would be attracted to an adult body. At most you could say my partner would be interested in... IDK, a higher pitched voice??? (Side note, because I've never actually mentioned this: My partner has absolutely 0 interest in fucking my littles and we've discussed at length how they'd be a little weirded out by it.) Side side note: as a victim of CSA and whose parents used their disorders to try to make them feel incapable of love, stop fucking boiling the term pedophile down to "someone who has sex with someone I deem too childlike to have sex." I'm tired of my trauma being dismissed so you can use a buzzword loudly.

"Letting your littles consent makes you a predator." So, when I was 13-16 and [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and [REDACTED] because I thought I could consent, does that make me a predator? Are CSA victims predators because they thought they could consent? How am I being a predator to myself? My littles are me. Your arguments make absolutely no sense and are wildly offensive to CSA survivors.

"I'm going to judge you for it." K. Do you make it a regular habit to judge people's recoveries? Cause like. I highly suggest you take a class in Not Giving A Shit, perhaps a gardening class so grass could be caressed by your tender hands, and maybe, just maybe, consider either therapy or self help for your own issues, if you haven't yet. You should really concern yourself more with YOU than with judging other people.

"I'm going to report you for hurting yourself."

I am a 27 year old queer individual. I am a person who has a loving spouse. We have sex. Do you regularly report (and to whom?) adults who have sex? Do you regularly look at people and say, "Actually, your relationship is going to cause you harm because I said it is, so I'm reporting you for your safety!"

In that case, I should be reporting every single syscourser, because syscourse harmed me, so clearly everyone who is in the tags must be self-harming, right?

I think that's the funniest part of all of this. In a dark humor kinda way. See, letting my littles access sexual content -- letting Sie write smut, and letting LED embrace sexuality, and letting Gazi (whom we are now comfortable talking about after doing good good therapy about it) enjoy and take pleasure in her sexual desires -- has let us heal from our CSA and feelings of insecurity.

Without letting them have that, we would have continued to hold resentment for myself. For who I am. For "what I am because of what they did to us."

You are trying to tell me that my recovery is secretly harming me, and that the medical world agrees with you. And frankly, you have no right to lie to me like that.

... But then you look at the syscourse thing and go, "Yeah, no, it's totally normal and okay and up to the individual if they're harming themselves."

Pick your lane and stay in it!!!

Ough. Thank you for reading, if you got that far. Two very long nights and a very, very patient partner who is waiting for me upstairs. I'm ending the post here, with a reminder to everyone to please be respectful. Respect other systems privacy. Respect their rights to dignity and risk. Respect them as people. And for fucks sake, let littlecourse end. (It's a dumb word anyways).