#also things like these are out of our control

[golden-redhead]

Squid Game's Final Season & The Suspension of Disbelief Baby Problem

The more I think about it, the clearer it gets that the whole Baby Thing in Squid Game s3 was... maybe not the best idea. I can understand where the writers came from and I actually genuinely think that on paper it was a pretty interesting idea. I also realize that it was definitely meant to be largely symbolic and we shouldn't expect it to be 100% realistic. Squid Game never tried to act like it's about realism, it was always about the message and the commentary on human nature and the system we live in.

The thing is... Well, there's symbolism and then there's expecting the audience to ignore very obvious flaws that need to be overlooked for said symbolism to work.

First of all, this whole subplot reeks of being written by someone who never had to deal with a newborn. Which, on its own, is fine. The idea that you should only write about things you are familiar with is, frankly, quite silly. Truth be told, I don't have any experience with dealing with newborns either. However, even if you don't have any first hand experience or knowledge about how newborns operate, common sense still makes it very difficult to buy the way everything played out in the story.

The birth scene itself was honestly silly if you know anything about how it works. And I assume it was even more silly for people who have actual experience giving birth or assissting someone during the process. Like, I can accept that it happened fast, even if it is a little unbeliavable, it is still within the realm of possibility. Some births are easier and faster than others, that's true, but even then, birth is messy regardless of how long it takes. There's blood, sweat, poop and all kinds of nasty stuff. And all that applies to a 'normal' birth, you know, in the hospital and with medical professionals around! Then, there's the pain and panic that would have only been made worse by the reality of being in the middle of a killing game. Not to mention how it was a non-sterile environment full of blood and dirt with no way to properly care for a baby that's born too early and to a first-time mother who's in a lot of pain from additional injuries and trauma. And speaking of the mother, even after giving birth, most people are too exhausted to keep going. Jun-hee didn't look even half as bad as she should have, considering everything her body went through in a small amount of time. She should be still actively bleeding and honestly, it's surprising that a potential infection or excessive bleeding didn't kill her first.

Even when you account for things like adrenaline and accept that some things had to be simplified in order to work on screen, there are just way too many elements other than the things related to the birth itself that don't make any sense. And that's all without even getting to the obvious issue of a newborn baby's needs, such as frequent feeding and diaper changes. Or the crying which would for sure drive everyone crazy, especially at night when the adrenaline of the games wears off and people are trying to rest. Or, you know, the serious risk of the hungry and dehydrated baby getting an infection, especially since it has basically no immune system to speak of.

And then there's the jumping rope game... Have you ever heard about SBS? The Shaken Baby Syndrome? Much older children are at risk of serious injury and even death from being shaken. I find it very hard to believe that that baby wouldn't suffer after being shaken, jostled and moved around like that. Oh, and then there's also SIDS. It's short for Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. We don't exactly know what causes it, but some babies die despite being perfectly healthy and taken care of. It's just one of these things that seem to be out of our control. If it can happen to children who have all of their needs met, imagine how much higher the risk was for Jun-hee's baby.

Honestly, I could keep going, but... No matter how you slice it, the creators expected A LOT from the audience by demanding that we overlook all of these issues. And that's assuming that you are even willing to overlook it in the first place. Which, frankly, I think is quite hard, considering how many lovable, actually well-developed characters had to die for the sake of that baby. The baby that not only very clearly didn't look only a few days old but also required some pretty bad use of CGI at some points.

Again, I realize that it's less about the baby and more about what the baby symbolizes, especially in Korean culture. It's pure, it's innocent, it's a representation of what could be a better future. I just think that all these things I mentioned above, along with a shockingly defeatist ending for Gi-hun, make it very hard to accept the way the final season ended. This sudden lack of realism taken to such an extreme doesn't help either.

In fiction, we often talk about suspension of disbelief. All fiction requires that to some extent, with some genres or kinds of media expecting more of it than others. The problem is, despite some of pretty unbelievable elements, Squid Game was always pretty deeply rooted in reality, especially when it comes to its characters. I think it's the reason why it resonated with people as much as it did. It's taken to the extreme, yes, but we all can understand the idea of being betrayed by the system. We know how it feels to be constantly beaten down and how one mistake can spiral out of control and ruin our whole life. We realize that life is unfair and that the uber wealthy prey on the poor and uphold a system that's designed to keep us in check.

So, by suddenly going out of its way to make a pretty unbelievable situation work against all odds and have that baby survive when no one else did, the creators demanded a lot from its audience. I think this is where a lot of disappointment and disbelief comes from.

[idkyetxoxo]

Seven | Eclipsed | Shadow and Flame

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 3.1k

Warnings - Parental abuse, angst, sexual content (mild)

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The decision to run wasn't something I made lightly.

But after crying into Eris's chest, after sobbing until my ribs ached and my breath came in shallow hiccups, I knew there was no other choice. 

Not anymore. Not with a life growing inside me. Not after last night.

Beron hadn't even been angry with me. Not specifically. One of my brothers had disobeyed him. A courtier had misspoken. The details didn't matter.  

What mattered was that I had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and in his eyes, I'd always been an easy target.

His fists had found me quickly. Cold. Controlled. Not once. Not twice. And then his hands—his hands had wrapped around my throat like iron bands, squeezing, squeezing—

It was Eris who'd pulled him off. Who'd thrown his body between mine and our father's rage. I remembered the heat in his voice, the flash of fire in his hands, the barely contained threat.

I also remembered the silence that followed. 

The tension that thickened the halls. The bruise blooming across my neck like a collar. The way my lip throbbed and cracked when I tried to speak.

This morning, I had dressed in haste, tunic and trousers that didn't cling to the evidence of what I carried. I covered my neck with a scarf. Packed only what I could carry. 

Every movement had felt surreal, like I was watching someone else's hands fold clothes, someone else's body move through my room.

Eris was already waiting outside my door. He didn't speak at first. Just looked at me.

His jaw clenched at the sight of my face—what Beron had done to it. And still, he didn't ask if I was sure. He knew the answer. Knew this was the only path left to me.

"We'll keep it quiet," he said. His voice was low but steady. "Your window of time is short. The guard shift changes in less than an hour. I've already cleared the western corridor. No one will see you."

My throat ached with gratitude I couldn't voice.

"You'll go through Winter first," he continued, adjusting the strap on my satchel, ever the older brother even now. "Kain will be expecting you. He doesn't know the full story—only that you're in danger, and I trust him. He'll give you shelter."

I nodded slowly. "And from there... Day."

"Helion owes me," Eris said simply. "He won't turn you away."

I swallowed thickly. "And if he does?"

He hesitated. "Then you find Lucien. He'll protect you." That name, the last resort. A comfort and a warning.

I took a slow breath. My heart felt like it was splintering, like each beat carried a goodbye I hadn't said yet.

Then, the dam inside me cracked again. "I'm sorry."

His brow furrowed. "What are you apologising for now?"

"For putting you in this position. For making you lie. For leaving like this. For—" My voice broke. "For everything."

Eris stepped forward, gathering me into his arms again. But this time, I didn't cry. I couldn't afford to. I just pressed my face into his shoulder and held on.

"You didn't put me here," he said, his voice rough. "He did. And if you stayed, it would only get worse. You know that."

I nodded into the fabric of his coat.

Eris pulled back, placing a hand on either side of my face, his thumbs brushing the edges of my bruises with such gentleness I almost cried again.

"You are not a burden. You are not weak. And you are not alone."

I blinked hard. "Promise me you'll come. When it's safe."

A flicker of warmth crossed his features, the rare kind that reminded me of the boy he used to be before this court turned him cold. "I will. I swear it. I'll find you."

The goodbye was brief because if it lasted longer, I wouldn't be able to leave.

I stepped out into the corridor and didn't look back.

The Autumn border loomed ahead before midday, where crimson and gold bled into the pale, icy blues of Winter. The line between them shimmered like a living thing, a rift between worlds. 

On one side, tyranny, fire, blood. On the other, a frigid unknown, but freedom.

The wind howled as I crossed. I had barely made it past the border. My boots crunched in the snow-dusted moss of Winter's forest, breath hitching in my chest, the cold biting through my clothes and skin and bone but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

And then the shadows came. Like a breath of wind. Like a warning.

They spilt in around me, dark tendrils curling over tree trunks, brushing against my ankles like they recognised me, owned me. I barely had time to spin around before he was there.

Azriel. He winnowed in as if summoned by my heartbeat. Cloaked in wings and midnight, expression carved from stone.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

"Are you insane?" I snapped, clutching the strap of my satchel like it might anchor me. My magic instinctively checking the glamour around my belly. My panic came too fast, too sharp. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

His shadows flitted and curled around his shoulders, more alive than I'd ever seen them, like they were relieved. Like they'd missed me.

Of course they had. Damned spymaster.

He didn't answer my questions. He just stared. "You're leaving," he said flatly. A statement. Not a question.

"Yes, Azriel," I said through gritted teeth. "I am. Is that a problem for you?"

"No," he said, too calmly. "Not at all."

I narrowed my eyes. "Then why are you here?"

His jaw clenched. His siphons pulsed faintly, his wings twitching like he wanted to shield me from something invisible.

"You were gone," he said, voice low. "And no one knew where. Eris lied for you. I nearly tore apart the entire Autumn Court before I followed the scent trail across the border. What the hell are you thinking?"

"You have no idea what I've been dealing with—"

"Then tell me!" he barked. "Tell me why you ran! Tell me why you've been hiding. Tell me what Beron did. I know he did something."

My voice cracked. "You don't understand—"

"Then help me understand!" His shadows lashed out violently behind him. "Because right now, it looks a lot like you were just done with me. Like I wasn't even worth a goodbye."

My breath came out in a shudder. The words hit deeper than they should have. Deeper than I could handle.

"I left," I whispered, "because I had to. Because if I didn't—he would have killed me."

Azriel stilled. "I don't care what Beron did," he said after a long beat. "We could have handled it together. You don't get to vanish and act like I don't have a right to fight for you."

"I wasn't just protecting myself!" I shouted, voice sharp with panic, pain, truth. 

"I was protecting your baby."

The words tore out of me like they had claws.

Azriel froze. His expression didn't change, just drained. Like all the breath had been pulled from his lungs. All the colour from the world. He didn't move. Didn't speak.

And I took his silence like a knife to the gut.

I laughed, but it was hollow and choked. "Of course. Of course you'd think it isn't yours."

His head jerked up. "That's not—"

"It is yours, Azriel!" I shouted, a sob clawing at my throat. "Do you think I would run like this, alone, terrified, if it wasn't? Do you think I would carry this—hide this—if it wasn't yours?"

"That's not what I—" He moved forward, reaching for me, voice raw now. "That's not what I thought."

I flinched.

"I thought I'd lost you," he breathed. "I thought... I wasn't enough. That maybe you'd decided I wasn't worth telling."

My anger shattered.

"I don't want this—us, if you don't want it," I said, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "Don't feel pressured because of the baby. I can do this on my own."

His eyes flashed, wings twitching slightly. "No," he said, the word low, hoarse. "You don't get it."

He stepped closer, voice breaking as he continued, "I've always wanted you. More. I've always wanted more, but I was willing to take what you gave—anything, everything, because I'd rather have you in some way than lose you altogether."

My breath caught.

"Even without the baby," he said, eyes blazing now, "I'd still want you. Gods, it's why I'm here. Why I've been so insistent. So damn persistent. You think I wouldn't be here if this wasn't real to me? You think this is just about obligation?" He let out a ragged breath. "I chose you. Long before I ever knew this child existed."

And then he stepped forward again, slow, reverent, and laid his palm gently—gently over my stomach. His breath caught. "You're pregnant."

I nodded, barely holding it together. "Yes."

His hand trembled. "With my child."

"Yes," I said again, voice cracking.

And something in Azriel broke.

He dropped to his knees before me, arms wrapping around my waist, forehead pressed to the barely-there swell beneath my tunic now revealed because I dropped the glamour. 

His wings curled protectively around us both, and his shadows sank into the earth like they were rooting us together.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, voice thick. "You were never alone. Not for one damned second. I would've burned the courts for you. For you both."

I buried my hands in his hair as I finally let the tears fall.

"I was so scared," I choked. "I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't know if you'd want it. Or me."

He looked up at me, eyes shining. "Want you? Want you? You're everything. You always have been everything. And this baby—this baby is mine. I will never let anything touch you. Either of you."

And the way he said it, fierce, certain, terrifyingly tender, broke something in me that had been held too tightly for too long.

"I love you," I whispered, voice shaking.

He stood, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me like I was oxygen after drowning.

"I love you," he said. "And I will never let you run again."

Azriel didn't speak again as he winnowed us out of the Winter borderlands, but the way his arms held me, like I might vanish again, said enough.

Velaris met us with the hush of starlight and sea air. The House of Wind stood dark and waiting, perched in the cliffs like it always had, like it had never stopped.

He landed softly on the balcony of his room and didn't let go of me until we were inside, shadows flitting ahead.

For a long while, we said nothing. I stood in the familiar quiet, unsure what to do with my hands, my breath, the storm still warring inside my chest.

Azriel watched me from near the fireplace. Not expectant. Not pressing. Just watching, like he was memorising the fact that I was there, really there.

We ended up in his bed, not by some grand plan but by instinct. His room was still exactly as I remembered, cool shadows and still air, the scent of cedar and clean linen clinging to everything. Him.

We lay there side by side, the silence humming between us like a living thing.

"I missed you," he said after a while, his voice low, rough with emotion.

I turned to face him, our foreheads nearly touching. "I missed you too."

He let out a breath, his thumb tracing along my jaw. "How's it been so far?" he asked, gently, but I knew what he meant.

I gave a shaky laugh. "Terrible."

His brows furrowed instantly. "Terrible how?"

I sighed. "I'm nauseous almost constantly, I'm always exhausted... and, Cauldron save me, I've been so horny all the damn time."

Azriel actually recoiled slightly, blinking. "Oh."

A beat of silence. Then I smirked. "Don't worry, my healer says it's normal. Hormones and all that."

He blinked again, and then he laughed. A real, soft chuckle that rumbled in his chest and made his shadows stir around the bed like they were sighing with relief.

"I... might be able to help with that," he said, his voice suddenly deeper, rougher, warmer.

I raised a brow. "You volunteering, Spymaster?"

He leaned in, lips ghosting over mine. "Only if it's what you want."

"It is," I whispered. "I never stopped wanting you."

That was all it took.

Azriel kissed me like I was air and he hadn't breathed in months. There was no rush, no hunger behind it just softness. Reverence. A kind of aching sweetness that pulled tears to my eyes as his fingers threaded through my hair.

He kissed me until the world went quiet, until there was only the warmth of his body, the safety of his arms, the steady rhythm of our hearts finally syncing again.

His hands moved with care, relearning my body like a song half-forgotten. 

When he undressed me, he paused at every new curve, every sign of change, as if memorising this new version of me—of us.

When he touched the gentle swell of my bare stomach, his expression broke wide open. Wonder, fear, love, all of it flickered in his eyes before he leaned down and pressed a kiss there, slow and trembling.

I ran my fingers through his hair, tears slipping silently down my cheeks.

Azriel looked up at me then, cupping my face with both hands. "I love you," he said, fierce and gentle at once. "And I already love them, too."

I kissed him, pulling him down with me, and when he finally slid into me, it was like coming home.

There was no frenzy, no urgency. Only skin and breath and quiet moans between kisses. He moved with care, slow and deep, as if every stroke was a prayer of apology, of promise, of love.

I clung to him, wrapping my legs around his hips, letting the weight of him ground me in this moment. In him.

We made love like we were rediscovering what it meant to be whole.

When we reached the edge, it wasn't with fireworks, but with a sigh, a soft moan, a whisper of his name against my lips as I shattered around him and he followed, groaning into my shoulder as he buried himself deep and still.

Afterward, he didn't let go. He stayed wrapped around me, one hand gently splayed over my thigh, the other tangling with mine.

In the stillness of our shared breath, I realised I wasn't scared anymore.

I was loved. I was safe. We both were.

I felt it like the brush of butterfly wings inside me, a flutter so sudden, so gentle, I sat up with a sharp inhale, one hand flying instinctively to my belly.

Azriel rose with me immediately, tension crackling through his frame, shadows stirring like alarmed birds.

"What is it?" he asked, eyes scanning me for pain.

But then he saw my face. I was smiling. Wide and real.

"Feel," I whispered, grabbing his hand and placing it over the spot just beneath my navel. "Right there."

His hand stilled. A moment passed. Then, another kick. Stronger this time, certain.

Azriel froze. His lips parted, the breath catching in his throat like he'd been struck, like the world had dropped out from under him in the most beautiful way.

"That was—" he blinked, and then a laugh burst from him, raw and amazed. "That's—gods, that's our baby."

I nodded, giggling despite the sudden tears pricking my eyes. He moved instinctively, shifting so both hands cradled the gentle swell of my belly, reverent, like he was afraid touching too hard would wake him from a dream.

"I can't believe it," he murmured. "Three months, and now... it's real. It's really happening."

"It's been real for a while," I said softly, laying back down. He followed me, turning onto his side to face me, one of his wings draping protectively behind my back like a shelter. "But feeling that... it changes everything, doesn't it?"

He nodded slowly, eyes locked on my face. His fingers traced the line of my temple with aching tenderness.

"What else do you know?" he asked, barely louder than a breath.

I reached up, wrapping my fingers around his wrist, pressing a kiss into his palm. My heart beat faster. Not from joy but from the weight of what I knew I had to say.

"There's something I need to tell you," I whispered.

His expression sobered immediately. Concern etched into every line of his beautiful face. His shadows tightened, gathering closer, as if they sensed the shift before the words had even left my mouth.

"The baby..." I began, voice trembling. "The baby has wings."

At first, he smiled. That quiet, proud, stunned smile he wore so rarely, like the sun rising behind his storm. 

But the moment he looked back at me and saw I wasn't smiling, his expression collapsed.

"My body..." I said carefully, repeating the words that had been haunting me for weeks, "isn't built to accommodate that kind of development. Not without complications. Criva, my healer—she explained it plainly. There are risks. Serious ones."

Azriel went still, like a statue carved from night.

And then, hoarsely, "Are you... are you telling me you might die delivering our baby?"

My throat closed. I tried to speak and failed. So I just nodded.

Tears welled in his eyes, unshed but shining, and his shadows became a storm, thick and whirling and frantic as they wrapped around his shoulders like a second skin. 

His hand trembled as he reached up and brushed my cheek.

"I—I can't lose you," he choked. "Not now. Not after everything. Not when I just got you back."

I swallowed hard, blinking through my own tears. 

"It's okay, Az," I said, and somehow managed to sound calm. "Really. If it comes to that... if I don't make it, you'll still have them. And that's enough for me. It has to be."

"No," he said, voice breaking. "That's not enough for me. I want you. I want both of you. I will not let this end with you dying just to bring life into this world."

He shifted closer, cupping the back of my head, foreheads touching now. 

His voice cracked like thunder when he whispered, "We'll find another way. I'll tear apart every library in Prythian, I'll go to Madja, to Helion, to anyone—I don't care. There has to be a way."

"You're not going to lose me without a fight," I murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, salty from his tears. "But you need to understand... this is why I ran. This is why I didn't want to tell you. Because it's terrifying. Because it's real. And I couldn't bear to see you break."

"I won't break," he said fiercely, both hands now framing my face. "I'll bend, I'll burn, I'll bleed—but I won't break. Not as long as you're with me."

I closed my eyes and let the sound of him, his heartbeat, his breath, his voice, wrap around the ache inside me. 

For a moment, there was only that. Only him. Only us.

And in that stillness, I let myself hope.

A/n - FINALLY THE TRUTH! It didn't come out exactly the way I originally imagined, but after tweaking it endlessly, this is the best I could do.

We go from heavy angst, straight into some spice and then into soft fluff... real whiplash energy, I know x

The ending is sad I'm aware. They just found their way back to each other, only to be hit with the full weight of how dangerous this pregnancy really is :(

Also I have a concert on monday (lana del rey… i know 😝) and the next part is meant to be on tuesday for this but I might have to wait to post cause i wanna tweak it a bit but i won’t have time cause of the concert, don’t kill me please ty 😭

Thank you for reading <33

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[a99jazzybean]

Hi there👀 how would you feel about writing a Mateo manta x reader oneshot with steamy cuddles/ SLIGHT somnophilia(reader is awake to consent #CONSENTISSEXY)

Hope ur well<3

This was a cute prompt! Thank you for the request!

In Your Warmth I Forget How Cold it Can Be

synop: The power goes out during an ice storm, and your house is FREEZING. What better way to warm up than with your favorite blanket, and maybe he can help you have a blissful sleep while doing so?

words: 3.1K

includes: mateoxfem!reader, cuddling, power outage, consensual somnophilia, smut

a/n: This includes smut! No minors!

Hope you like this one! Let me know your thoughts!

Brrrr…

Blinking awake, you pull the covers up tighter around you. It was freezing. Slowly, you make your way out of bed. As your feet hit the floor, you cringed. So cold! 

You pluck your glasses from your bedside table and put them on. Ready to figure out why your house feels like a freezer.  

“Hector, what’s going on? It’s like an icebox in here.” You pull the duvet from your bed and wrap yourself in it. 

“I’m sorry, my love. It appears the ice storm has made the power go out.” You hear his sultry voice from the vent. 

You groan in frustration. Turning to your alarm clock, you see it flashing 3:08. You reach for your phone on the dresser seeing that it’s currently 3:47. Almost an hour since the power went out. Of course this would happen when it’s absolutely freezing outside. 

Rummaging through your dresser, you grab some fuzzy socks and warm sweatpants. You also grab a sweater from your closet, then make your way to your breaker box. 

Opening the closet door, you are met with the sounds of arguing. Inside the Breaker Box club, Volt and Eddie are bickering. The latter man is actively working on the electrical unit. Presumably trying to restore power to the house. 

“Eddie, I don’t understand why you’re attempting to do anything? It’s the city power grid, not you.” Volt sighed, shaking his head at the overworked man. 

“I’m aware, but I can at least try to do something!” He grumbled through gritted teeth. 

Despite you aiding the men, it appeared that Eddie had returned to his old ways. Feeling the need to fix everything, even if he had no control over the current circumstances. 

Clearing your throat, you caught the men’s attention. Both turning to you with surprised expressions. 

“Good morning, dear! It’s quite early for you to be up!” Volt greeted you, attempting to ease the tension. 

“Good morning to you too. How are you guys holding up?” You leaned against the wall at the club’s entrance. 

“Oh just fine!” Volt remained cheery despite the circumstances. 

“You sure?” You raised a brow at him. 

Eddie sighed as he stood up and dusted himself off. You could see grease stains on his shirt and bags under his eyes. You were pretty sure the man had been up all night. 

“It doesn’t seem like you guys are doing ‘just fine’.” You said pointedly. 

“We’re just trying to get the house back up and running.” Eddie said. 

“You do know it’s the city’s electrical infrastructure that’s at work right now, right?” 

“Oh trust me, I’m aware. If I could have a word with the controls at the power plant…” Eddie let out a yawn. “ Well, they’d hear a lot from me about keeping things running.” 

“If I want to keep my house running in tip top shape, I think that some things might need to let themselves have a break.” You admonished Eddie. “Especially if they have zero control over the current circumstances.” 

“Thank you! That’s what I’ve been trying to say this whole time!” Volt narrowed his eyes at Eddie. “Perhaps you’ll actually listen to our homeowner?”

Eddie looked between you and Volt, then sighed in defeat. 

“You two like to team up on me often, you know that?”

“It’s because we care, Eddie.” You gave him a small smile. “Now, please, get some rest.” 

“I should be saying the same thing to you. It’s what, three am?” Eddie huffed at you.

You waved them off, visibly stifling a yawn.

“Don’t worry about me. It’s too cold to sleep.” You tell them, despite feeling a wave of exhaustion hit you. It really was too early for you to be up.

“That’s our live wire, a hypocrite.” Eddie gave you a knowing smirk. 

“Whatever, go get some rest, guys.” You allowed yourself to yawn this time.

“Hopefully you will do the same.” Volt said before wrapping an arm around Eddie and ushering him to the back of the club.

You decided to also take your leave, exiting the club and entering your freezing home. 

As you left, your phone pinged with a message. When you pulled it out, you groaned in frustration. 

Valdivian customer 127600, we regret to inform you that a power outage has occurred in your neighborhood. Your estimated restoration time is 8 hours. Us at Valdivian Energy are here to aid you. If you have any questions, please answer with QUESTION. If you wish to expedite the restoration process, you can pay a one-time fee of $250 dollars to shave off one hour of restoration time. To expedite restoration answer with RESTORE. Thank you for choosing Valdivian Energy!

Eight hours? Surely you would freeze in that amount of time.

You walked up to a window, looking over the frosty landscape as a shiver ran through you. Hopefully the house would be able to handle the cold for a while. 

You made your way through the home. Doing your best to make sure things would stay warm. Lighting up Dante to get some heat in your home. Passing by the sinks in your home, you turned them on just barely. Last thing you needed was bursting pipes. 

When you were finished, your whole body was shivering. You swore you could see your breath puffing in the air. How did it get so cold inside so quickly?

Kneeling in front of your fireplace, you held out your hands to the small fire you made. 

“Lookin’ pretty chilly, hot stuff.” Dante spoke to you from the embers.

“It’s fucking freezing, man. Of course I’m chilly.” You weren’t really in the mood for teasing at the moment. 

“Just trying to lighten the mood.” He raised his hands up with a shrug. “Maybe you could wrap yourself up in something warm?” He eyeballed the blanket on the couch behind you. 

A bright smile grew on your face. Of course! The cozy comfort that is Mateo would hopefully have you warmed up in no time. Plus, paired with your bed, you could go back to a peaceful sleep. 

Standing up, you cracked your back and walked over to where your blanket was sitting. Currently cuddled up with some inanimals. When you sit beside him, he gives you a warm smile. Opening his arm, he gestures for you to snuggle beside him. An invitation you gladly accept. Easily sliding into his warm body, sighing with content at the heat you’re now syphoning off of him.

“Wow, you’re freezing.” He said, pulling you even closer. 

“I know, the house is so fucking cold. And power won’t be restored for forever!” You practically sobbed. 

“Is that why you’re up this early?” His face was filled with concern. Your comfort was quite the top priority for him.

“Yeah. Couldn’t get back to sleep after waking up in an icebox.” You were attempting to hint at needing his assistance. 

“Do you want me to help you with that?” He leaned toward you, making your cheeks heat up.

“Maaaaybeee?” You gave him pleading eyes.

“You know, you can just ask? Or better yet, grab me and take me up with you.” He chuckled lightly before cupping your chin. “You know how much I enjoy being wrapped up with you.” He leaned in, placing a soft peck against your lips. 

You pressed up against him, humming at both the softness of his lips and warmth of his body. 

“Do you want to go upstairs with me? So I can go back to sleep?” You ask sweetly. 

He lets out a soft chuckle. 

“Of course, just let me make sure the inanimals are safe and warm.” It always warms your heart, how caring he was for the unique creatures within your home. 

He proceeded to make sure the inanimals had everything they needed during this outage, then returned to you with a soft smile. Offering his hand, he helped you up from the couch. Wrapping your arms around the man, you pulled him in for a tight hug. Sighing into his comforting warmth. He let out a content sigh himself, pressing his chin over your head to pull you in further. 

After a moment, he pushed away. Whining, you  tried to go back in, but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here. But we should be getting you back to bed. Shall we?” He motioned to the stairs. 

“Alright, but as soon as we’re in bed you’re wrapping that cozy body of yours around me.” 

He let out an airy laugh and grabbed your hand. You pulled him upstairs with you, then bounded to your bed. Plopping down, you pat beside you. Mateo scooted in, wrapping his arms around your torso. 

Realizing how intimately close he was gave you a new idea on how to stay warm. Leaning in, you pressed a deep kiss against his lips. His eyes widened with surprise at the sudden action, then fluttered shut as he enjoyed the kiss. Softly, your tongue pressed against his lips. His own joined yours as he let out a soft groan. You always tasted so good. 

Wrapping one of your legs around his lower body, you pulled his hips flush against yours. Through his pants you could feel he was already growing semi-hard. Smirking, you pulled away from him. Admiring the flush now dusting his cheeks and the swell of his kiss-bitten lips. 

“What are you doing?” He asked softly. “I thought you wanted to sleep.” 

With that, you turned away from him. Pressing your backside into his crotch. A move that had the man groaning. 

“I am going to sleep. I just wanted a goodnight, well I guess, good morning kiss.” You smirked as you felt him shuffling behind you. 

“Is that so?” He pressed a kiss to your neck, making you shiver. 

“Mhmm… but if there’s anything else you wish to do to keep me warm. Be my guest.” You craned over your shoulder to look at him with a lustful gaze.

“Anything?” He asked lowly.

Hands gripping your hips pulled you flush against him. Against your ass you felt his full erection straining. Exactly what you wanted. 

“Anything.” You confirmed before giving a quick peck then turning back around. 

With Mateo wrapped around you, you did feel significantly warmer. Sleep had begun to take over, your eyes fluttering closed. Slow breaths left you as you drifted off into a blissful sleep. 

From behind you, Mateo was itching for more. His hands softly brushing over your dozing body. He loved this. 

Not too long ago, the man had confessed a kink of his that he had been too afraid to voice before. Most of the time he was fairly vanilla. Often enjoying missionary to watch as your face contorted in bliss at the pleasure he was giving you. So this confession had somewhat surprised you. Though based on the type of person he was, it wasn’t too surprising. 

Mateo really, really wanted to fuck you while you slept. Something about you feeling secure enough to sleep next to him had a fire burning inside his loins. He loved the idea of making you cum on his cock as you enjoyed a good rest and blissful dreams. Hopefully him fucking you would aid in making your night time thoughts pleasant. 

With you needing to sleep and needing his aid, might as well give the man what he wants, right? Not that you didn’t want it either. The thought of him using you while you slept also had your thoughts running wild. Wondering what it was going to feel like when he filled you up as you rested. Would you dream of him? How would cumming around him feel? It was… exciting. Something you would gladly participate in. Especially considering it would make the man extremely happy. 

When your breathing became even, Mateo decided to check how deeply you were asleep. In a quiet voice he called your name. You stirred a little, ass brushing against his cock. However, you didn’t wake up. 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Mateo let his hands wander over your body. Warm hands trailed underneath your sweater, cupping your breasts. Again, you stirred but didn’t wake up. His fingers swirled around your nipples, making you keen in your sleep. Ass pressing up against him again. He groaned at the feeling, then began to move his hips against you. His hands continued their journey along your body, now dipping into your sweatpants. Thick fingers reached down to tease your sex. 

He moaned at the feeling of your sopping cunt as he continued to dry-hump your ass. 

“You’re so wet, and you’re not even awake.” He said in awe to himself. 

It would be so easy to just pull your pants down and slip inside you, but he didn’t want to let himself get too carried away. After all, he wanted you to stay asleep for this. Can’t be interrupting your beauty rest. 

Instead, he decided to tease you a bit. Slowly, he pulled down your pants and panties. Then pulled his own pants down. Hard cock flopping out onto your ass. Skin to skin he grinded his hips against you, then he lifted one of your legs. Making sure you hadn’t woken up, he paused to listen to your breathing. Still even breaths, good. He slid his cock between your thighs. Pressing against your dripping pussy. 

“Oh, oh.” He let out quiet moans at the feeling of your slick against his length. Desperately trying not to pummel himself inside you. 

Slowly, he began to move his hips. His hot cock sliding between your folds. The head teased against your clit making your hips unconsciously jolt with pleasure. In your sleep, you let out soft moans with each bump of his cock on your sensitive nub. Mateo could feel your pussy growing wetter and wetter as he continued to fuck between your thighs. His eyes rolled back in bliss at the pleasure your sleeping body was granting him. 

“Fuck,” He kissed your neck. “So good, you’re so good to me.”

You continued to moan in your sleep, not stirring awake. Your hips shifted slightly, and the tip of Mateo’s cock caught the entrance of your pussy. The feeling made you cry out, but you still didn’t wake. Mateo took this as his cue to continue. Pushing the rest of his fat cock into your sopping cunt. Loving the long whine that escaped you when he was fully nestled in. 

For a moment he sat there. Cock filling your warm pussy. Plush walls squeezing against him in the most delicious way. The man felt as if he had died and gone to heaven right there. 

Eventually, he began to move again. Pushing in and out of you, cock hitting that perfect gummy spot within you. The feeling had your body shivering and moaning. Mateo, soothed you with warm hands that trailed over your sides. Oh he was absolutely loving this. Bringing you pleasure while you remained comfortable, a dream come true. The feeling of you squeezing around him was also a plus. Pure pleasure coursing through him with each thrust into your pussy. 

As quietly as he could he let out soft moans and whines. Making sure his cock kept hitting that lovely sweet spot of yours. Every one of your moans shot straight to his cock. He could feel his climax nearing, but wanted to make sure you came first. 

Thick fingers reached around your front, finding your clit. In sloppy circles, he pressed down against the nub. Sparks of pleasure shot through you, making your cunt clench around him. The tightness around his cock indicated your orgasm was near.

He thrust in and out of you with long strokes, cock reaching so deep inside you. Fingers continued to circle your clit, making you cry out. Mateo wondered how you were still asleep through all of this, but was thankful that you were. He hoped that you would wake up utterly satisfied by his ministrations. 

“C’mon, please…” He whispered against your ear with a hot breath. “Please cum for me.”

It took a few more strokes and presses against your clit, but after a particularly hard thrust against your sweet spot, you were gushing around him. Mateo whined loudly as your cunt clenched around him. Your body shivered as your orgasm rocks through you. Involuntarily, your hips thrust back against Mateo. Riding out your orgasm in your sleep as you let out breathy moans and whines. 

At the feeling of your climax, Mateo thrusted faster inside of you. The feeling making your cunt grow overstimulated, but he was so close. He huffed as he chased his own high. Thick cock twitching within you, threatening to unload at any second. With a final thrust, the man let out a whine. Cock shooting out hot ropes of cum within you. His cock twitched at the sounds of your whines. Your body enjoying the feeling of being so full. Oh, he was going to be addicted to this. 

As he came down from his high, he checked up on you. When he tried to call your name, you didn’t respond. Instead, you stayed asleep. Little whimpers and moans escaping your lips as you dreamed. He stayed inside you as his length softened. Loving the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him. 

As he stayed inside with his arms wrapped around you, Mateo felt himself begin to drift off. Eyes fluttering shut, he allowed himself to join you in a blissful sleep. Content with plugging you full of himself. 

Later in the day, you blinked awake again. A feeling of satisfaction washing over you as you yawned. You tried to stretch, but found yourself pulled flush against Mateo. Little snores escaping him as he nuzzled into you. The adorable sight had you smiling.

After a moment, you realized you were feeling very full. Lifting up your duvet, you saw that the man was still shoved deep inside of you. Cock hard once again. You hummed at the feeling, shifting slightly to feel the head of his cock brush up against your sweet spot. 

The action had Mateo whimpering awake. His cock extremely sensitive after staying inside you for so long. He opened his eyes, meeting yours looking at him over your shoulder. 

“Have a good rest?” You asked teasingly.

He nodded, giving you a kiss on the neck that had you shivering. 

“Yes, very much so.” He smiled softly.

“Care for a round two?” You shifted your hips for emphasis, earning you a loud moan.

In response, Matteo thrust up into you. You cried out as he pushed against your gummy spot. 

The two of you hadn’t even realized that the power was back on. 

[clowngirlhonkers]

i feel so bad for kris tbh.

i so desperately wanna communicate with them but the limitations of the program prevent me from doing so

i cant have them write things down for me, i cant have them send messages to themself via their phone, i cant just straight up talk to them...

i think this was on purpose.

like obviously, right? it would make it harder for toby fox to actually make chapters if we could just ask kris their thoughts about things directly.

but also like... from an in-universe perspective, i think gaster limited our connection to the SOUL in this way on purpose to make sure the results of this "experiment" arent tainted. we have the ability to hop to any chapter thats been released and learn and retain information from them. being able to tell kris about shit that happens in the future would alter said future, since they now have knowledge they otherwise wouldnt be privy to.

and of course, this applies to kris's connection to us as well. it must be hella frustrating to watch as we do something they JUST TOLD US NOT TO DO because we cant even hear them speak or read their thoughts like we can with other characters.

but again, thats by design. originally we were gonna control an otherwise empty vessel, one that cant think or move on their own. we wouldnt need to hear what the vessel says because the vessel cant talk without our influence anyways.

but kris isnt the vessel... as far as we know.

they are their own person, with their own thoughts and preferences and history in hometown. they can do things outside of our control, like preventing us from seeing the whole bunker code in dess's guitar by tearing us out, or changing how our dialog choices are portrayed by preventing us from being a prick to ralsei or being utterly confused as to why we chose BERDLY of all people to go to the festival with.

the program thinks we are in control of the vessel, so it doesnt let us talk to the vessel. because that would be redundant. why would you wanna talk with an otherwise lifeless husk? and if it turns out youre piloting a fully formed person with their own thoughts and opinions, then why would the game let us spoil future events?

... i hope that we can find a way to meaningfully communicate with kris in a future chapter. i have so many things i wanna tell them and ask them...

but im not sure thatll ever happen

I'm thinking of kris repeating berdly's name in shock when you try to tell ralsei that you are going to the festival with berdly of all people. Thinking about the conversations we only get to hear half of, where kris presumably tells ralsei and susie that ralsei and asriel don't look that much alike. Thinking about all the times where kris changes the prompt we give them into something that they'd prefer to say.

Kris talks. They chatter, even, but we as the player don't get to hear it. They don't get a text box. We only ever know that they spoke at all from the reactions of other characters, and even then, we rarely know exactly what was said.

And part of this is that whoever the deltarune narrator is seems intent to pretending like kris doesn't exist. You check the mirror, and it says, "it's only you". Kris plays the piano and it says, "your hands begin moving on their own." If kris speaks without your permission, the narration doesn't acknowledge it at all, committed to the lie that kris doesn't exist beyond their role as our vessel. But that's not what this post is about.

This post is about how it's entirely possible that kris has tried to talk to us when no one else is around. They could have tried to tell us their plan, or begged us not to make certain decisions, or explained that we don't actually need to steal asriel's 5 dollars because they have a piggy bank buried in the front yard. Kris could be asking us questions, or asking us not to look for the bunker password because they have a plan and we should trust them, or asking us to let them sleep a bit longer, and we the soul just carry on the same regardless, their one-sided monologue falling on deaf ears. We would never even know, because of how thoroughly the narrative of deltarune has denied kris a voice.

[understeeringirl]

We'll fake it your way

summary: a photo, a headline, and a quiet unraveling. three days after canada, the internet gets too loud, so you and lando set the rules. warnings: fake dating trope, social media mentions, hurt/comfort, soft emotional flashbacks, banter, protective!lando pairing: lando norris x fem!reader word count: 1.8k series: wrong side of the camera - intro - chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five

______________________________________________________________

It starts three days after Canada.

Lando texts you twice. Calls once. Leaves a voice note that you never open. You’re not ignoring him on purpose. You’re just tired. Not the kind that sleep fixes, either. The kind that sits in your bones, that makes your phone feel heavy in your hand. You tell yourself you’ll answer tomorrow. Then tomorrow becomes the day after. Then the day after that.

And then you’re trending. Not because of something you did. Because someone posted a blurry photo of you leaving a casting call in Monaco, and the internet decided it was open season.

"She's not even pretty." "Is this the girl who's always clinging to Lando?" "Why is she even famous?"

It spirals fast. You scroll too long. You know better. But it’s like picking at a scab—you can’t stop even when it hurts. Someone finds a race weekend clip of you standing next to Lando in the McLaren hospitality and overlays it with a Taylor Swift song about begging to be chosen. It gets over 200k likes. You close your phone. Your stomach sinks.

That night, you call him.

He answers on the second ring. “Took you long enough,” he jokes, voice warm. “Missed me?”

You smile faintly. “Hey.”

A beat of silence. Then: “You okay?”

You shift, staring out your window. “We should do it. The fake dating thing. For real.”

There’s a pause. You expect hesitation. You get none.

“Alright,” he says easily. “Let’s do it.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he repeats. “Wanna come over?”

______________________________________________________________

His apartment in Monaco is clean in a way that screams he hasn’t been home in weeks. There’s a suitcase half-unpacked by the door. Trophies on shelves you’re not sure he dusts. A hoodie of yours in the living room chair you forgot you left.

You sit cross-legged on the couch. He brings you a cup of tea like it’s muscle memory. “So,” you say, sitting across from him. “We need to set rules.”

Lando leans back, eyeing you. “Yeah?”

“You’re way too chill about this,” you say. “Which is why I need rules. Because I know you.”

He grins. “That’s fair.”

You sip your tea. “If we’re going to pull this off without losing our minds, or our friendship, we need boundaries.”

“Lay them on me.”

You sit up straighter. “Okay. What are we even trying to do with this?”

He shrugs. “Make the internet shut up. Protect you. Maybe help me get through a few interviews without dodging relationship questions.”

“So it’s part public perception, part mutual survival.”

“Exactly,” he says. “And you get full creative control over what we post. I’m not touching captions.”

“You mean no more cryptic one-liners?”

He smirks. “I’m evolving.”

He pulls out his phone and opens the Notes app. "Okay," he says, thumbs poised. "Terms and conditions. Let’s make it official."

You raise an eyebrow. "You’re writing it down?"

"We need receipts in case you sue me for emotional damage," he deadpans.

You laugh. It’s the first time tonight it doesn’t feel forced.

He starts typing.

Fake Dating Agreement:

Rule #1: No kissing unless it’s for PR. Rule #2: Weekly Instagram activity required. Stories count. Rule #3: No getting jealous. Of anything. Ever. Rule #4: Either one of us can end it. No questions asked.

He grins. “Also, I reserve the right to flirt in public. For realism.”

You roll your eyes. “Only if I can call you embarrassing nicknames in interviews.”

“Deal,” he says. “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s pumpkin.”

You groan. He’s insufferable. You try not to look at his mouth when he does.

“Anything else?” he asks. You hesitate. Then say, “Let’s just not make it harder than it needs to be.”

His face shifts, just for a second. Something flickers behind his eyes. But he nods.

“Deal.”

He reaches out his hand like this is a contract and you’re business partners. You shake on it.

______________________________________________________________

Later, after you leave, you sit on the steps outside your flat and remember a race from years ago. You were thirteen. He had just won some junior karting final, still bouncing on his heels from the adrenaline.

A local reporter asked if you were his girlfriend. You’d laughed too hard. Said “God, no.” Loud enough for him to hear.

He’d looked over, confused but not offended. “You wish,” he teased. You rolled your eyes and tossed a water bottle at him.

But it stuck with you. Not the reporter. Not the question. Just the way you couldn’t stop wondering what he would’ve said if you hadn’t spoken first.

______________________________________________________________

Lando posts something the next day.

It’s a carousel on Instagram: his post-race weekend photo dump. Slide one is him in the garage. Slide two is his engineer mid-yell. Slide three is you, barely in frame, headset on, laughing at something he said.

Caption: she makes the headphones look better

Your heart catches. Because you weren’t expecting it. Because you didn’t know he was looking.

You repost it to your story with no caption. The internet notices.

And just like that, you’re not the girl in the background anymore. You’re the girl on his feed.

Two hours later, you get an email from McLaren’s media team. It's short and vague—more curious than directive.

Subject: Content Coordination & Public Messaging From: McLaren Media To: Lando Norris, Y/N

Hello team,

Noticing the spike in engagement following yesterday’s post — exciting stuff! Let us know if you need support managing DMs or fan messaging. We’re prepping light briefing notes in case media picks up on this before Austria.

No pressure, just flagging we may want to prep some soft-launch language for Lando’s press day.

Best, Holly // McLaren Communications

You stare at the screen for a long moment.

“They think it’s real,” you say aloud.

You forward it to Lando with no message.

He replies two minutes later:

"Ignore it unless you want to do something. They don’t need to know anything. This is for us."

You wish you believed him. But when you open Instagram again, your face is everywhere. And you’re not sure who the hell you are in any of the photos.

______________________________________________________________

Like some nights, you can’t sleep.

You spend too long rereading the comments under his post. You shouldn’t, but it’s hard not to. Most of them are supportive. Some are suspicious. A few sting.

It’s past 1 a.m. when you text him.

you up?

He replies instantly:

always. what’s up?

can’t sleep. it’s too quiet.

wanna call?

You hesitate. Then:

yeah.

He calls right away. You don’t even say hi—just listen to his breathing for a second.

“You okay?” he asks.

You roll onto your back, eyes on the ceiling. “Not really.”

There’s a pause. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I dunno. It’s just… weird.”

“Weird how?”

You exhale. “All of it. Us. This. The fake dating thing. People looking at us like we’re—” You stop.

“Like we’re not just us?” he finishes.

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah.”

He’s quiet for a second. Then, gently: “We’ve always been us. Doesn’t matter what anyone else sees.”

You let that sit between you. Because it’s true. Because that’s what this whole thing is supposed to be about—protecting that. Holding onto the only thing that’s ever really made sense.

“I’m glad it’s you,” you say softly.

You hear the smile in his voice when he replies. “Me too.”

There's a pause, then he says, “So what kept you up? Modeling drama? Existential dread? TikTok holes?”

You snort. “A bit of everything. Also I accidentally found a conspiracy thread about us being childhood enemies turned lovers.”

He laughs, a real one this time. “Wait—enemies? That’s slander. I shared my juice boxes with you.”

“You stole my fries for two years straight.”

“Out of love,” he says smugly.

You smile despite yourself. “How was media day?”

“Long. Boring. Someone asked me if I was in love. I think I said something about tire degradation.”

“Poetic,” you reply.

He hums. “You?”

“Shot a campaign. The stylist gave me a beret and said I looked like a depressed French poet.”

“Hot.”

“Shut up.”

He yawns, soft and sleepy. “I like this.”

“What?”

“This. You calling. Talking like we used to. Makes the rest of it feel less weird.”

You nod. “Yeah. Same.”

There's a pause, then he says: “You wanna do the first official post tomorrow?”

You chew your lip. “Yeah. Might as well. Let’s go big or go home.”

He hums again. “We fake it so well, people are gonna think we’ve been in love since we were ten.”

You don’t respond right away. Then you say, “Wouldn’t be the worst story.”

And he doesn’t answer, but you both fall into a silence that feels… comfortable. Familiar. Like slipping into a well-worn hoodie.

He clears his throat first. “So, if we’re doing this whole thing properly—what’s our story?”

“Our story?”

“Yeah. You know. How we 'fell in love.'”

You groan. “God, we’re gonna have to come up with an origin story.”

“Dramatic meet-cute? Shared trauma? Accidental hand brush that changed everything?”

You laugh. “It started when you made me eat a worm because you said it was a friendship ritual.”

“Character building,” he says. “Look at you now. Resilient. Gorgeous. Immunized.”

You roll your eyes. “I think we should just keep it vague. Let them guess.”

“Bold. Mysterious.” He pauses. “And then I get to say, ‘I’d rather keep that between us’ in interviews and look all coy.”

“That’s the dream,” you say dryly. “Just don’t oversell it.”

“No promises.”

A beat.

Then you say, “Hey, thanks for not making this weird.”

He chuckles. “You’re welcome for being incredibly cool and chill and fake-dateable.”

“Pumpkin.”

He groans. “I regret everything.”

______________________________________________________________

A few days later, your first public moment happens without planning.

It’s a sunny Thursday in Monaco, and you’re both on a coffee run. Paparazzi don’t usually wait outside the café on the corner, but someone spots him. Then someone spots you. Then someone yells his name.

He grabs your hand like it’s second nature. You blink down at it, then up at him. He just grins. Keeps walking.

You think it’ll be a passing thing—maybe a blurry photo, a headline buried under the next scandal. But by the time you’re home, it’s already on TikTok.

“Lando Norris soft-launching his girlfriend??” “He’s holding her hand like it’s his job.” “No one act surprised when they drop matching tattoos.”

You drop your forehead against the counter. Regret sighs out of you.

Lando, meanwhile, looks extremely pleased with himself. “Told you I’m good at this.”

“You’re going to ruin your own PR reputation.”

“Please,” he says, tossing you a bottle of water. “They love a little mystery. And now you’re not just a model. You’re my model.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

He taps a finger against his temple. “Strategic. There's a difference.”

You hate that he’s kind of right.

That night, you fall asleep with your phone buzzing under your pillow and his contact pinned at the top of your messages.

You dream about the karting track. About when it was just you and him, and the noise of the world hadn’t found its way in yet.

______________________________________________________________

hey!! here's part one of my first series, hope you like it! if i'm being honest it feels a little messy, so please tell me if it's bad 😭😭 i'll probably upload part two today or tomorrow, hehe

see you next lap ;), -N 🏁

[sage-nebula]

I've seen a few people concerned that the player is forcing Kris to be friends with Susie (or insinuating that Susie isn't really friends with Kris because the player is in control of them during interactions), and I can't really understand either sentiment. While it's true that the player is in control of Kris whenever Kris is around Susie, Kris makes numerous autonomous actions when interacting with Susie that the player has no control over, that insinuate that Kris genuinely likes and is friends with Susie. Off the top of my head:

In Chapter 1, Kris defends Susie from King's attack on their own; no input from the player is available at this time.

In Chapter 2, if Ralsei hugs Kris following the Spamton Neo battle, Kris looks to Susie on their own and seemingly asks if she'll hug them, too. (If no hug is given, Kris looks to Susie to ask for her jacket.)

In Chapter 3, if the player uses MiniKris to try to stab Susie, Kris pulls Susie out of the way while breathing heavily, as if hyperventilating.

In Chapter 4, the narration mentions that Kris feels as if things might be okay, no matter what they are, so long as Susie is beside them while looking in the mirror.

In Chapter 4, Kris chooses of their own free will to pour their juice into Susie's mouth as Susie pours her juice into Kris' mouth.

In Chapter 4, the player can only choose to put the stickers in "a good place" or "a bad place." No matter which place the player chooses, Kris chooses to put them on Susie's face.

In Chapter 4, Kris chooses to high-five Susie after they get invited to Noelle's house (in the normal route).

In Chapter 4, Kris chooses to draw Susie's face on the window at the diner if you choose to have them draw something; the player does not get to choose what Kris draws.

In Chapter 4, Kris chooses to hold Susie's feet and drive her around like a lawn mower when she chooses to eat from the snack plate in the normal route.

In Chapter 4, the narration notes that Susie's smile seems to chase all bad things away at the end of the chapter, when Kris is looking at them.

Kris chooses, many times, to show how much they like Susie. They play around with her without our input, or sometimes even use our input to play around with her even when we didn't tell them to. They defend her without our input, and sometimes even from us; and they seek comfort from her, too, even when she wasn't otherwise included in the moment. The player can choose time and time again to leave Susie out or be mean to her, but Kris chooses to include her, time and time and time again. (Additionally, Kris can also modify what they say, either by preventing themselves from saying it or by saying it in a tone / a way that suggests they don't mean it. I haven't seen the result of trying to make Kris be mean to Susie, but given how they won't let us use them to be mean to Ralsei in chapters three and four, I imagine we'd have the same result if we tried to use them to be mean to Susie.)

Kris genuinely likes Susie, and genuinely considers her to be their friend. And conversely, given how much Kris plays around with Susie without our input, I think it's safe to say that Susie really does like Kris, as well, and considers them to be her friend, and that wouldn't change even if she found out about the player situation. Hell, if anything, she'd probably just want to beat us out of them, so that they could be free to be themselves all the time.

So I genuinely can't understand people who think that Susie and Kris don't really know each other, or that we're forcing this situation. Because even if you choose to get away from Susie at all costs at every opportunity, whenever Kris takes control, they take measures to protect and spend time with her.

[philiosart]

“Your Idol” is Gwi-Ma using the Saja Boys as a mouthpiece (and not Jinu singing about Rumi)

I keep seeing posts, “omg when Jinu sings ‘you know I’m the only one who loves your sins,’ he’s singing about Rumi!!” and I have two gripes with this statement. First, I’m not convinced “Your Idol,” is sung by the Saja boys (more on that later). Second, if Jinu is singing about Rumi, it would be a messed-up thing to say to her, and I feel like we’re not addressing that.

“I’m the only one who loves your sins,” is a statement straight out of the abuser handbook. A statement used to isolate the victim from friends/family and make them solely reliant on the abuser for support, be it emotional, physical, or financial. This is the abuser's way of controlling their victim. This is not the vibe I get from Jinu, even if we are looking at a perspective of cycles of abuse. Which is why I believe “Your Idol” is the Saja Boys being used as a mouthpiece for Gwi-Ma, rather than Jinu singing a song about/for Rumi.

Almost every line in “Your Idol,” draws a direct parallel to a pattern of behavior that we have seen from Gwi-Ma, both from Jinu’s backstories/conversations with Rumi and from how Gwi-Ma begins to sink his claws into the fans after the idol awards flop. This is very stereotypical of these fantasy “battle-of-the-bands” style movies, but I think breaking down the lyrics is a fun exercise anyway, and I think it’s worth diving into that. Which I will do now.

Keeping you obsessed, keeping you in check

Play me on repeat, 끝없이 in your head

Anytime it hurts, play another verse

I can be your sanctuary

Gwi-Ma instills a sense of unending self-doubt and degrades self-esteem over time, and often, negative self-talk becomes an unending record in people’s minds. I especially like “Anytime it hurts, play another verse, I can be your sanctuary” because at first glance it sounds like “playing another verse,” would be a form of comfort for the hurt, when in reality it is just more negative self-talk that leads to a spiral.

Know I'm the only one right now

I will love you more when it all burns down

More than power, more than gold

Yeah, you gave me your heart, now I'm here for your soul

The Saja boys did the hard part already; Gwi-Ma is just cleaning up by enacting the final step of the plan. “More than power, more than gold,” the effect that the Saja Boys had in disrupting the Honmoon, which was turning gold. This line could also be a reference to “Golden,” stating that the Saja Boys’ influence is more powerful than Huntr/x’s final push towards a golden Honmoon by releasing the single.

You know, I’m the only one who loves your sins

Feel the way my voice gets underneath your skin

Once again, we hear the isolation that Gwi-Ma wants from his victims, telling them to push everyone else away because only he can truly understand them. We see this in Jinu’s flashback when Gwi-Ma is talking to him in the puddle, and he subsequently leaves behind his family.

Listen 'cause I'm preachin' to the choir

Can I get the mic a little higher?

Gimme your desire

I can be the star you rely on

내 황홀의 취해, you can't look away

Don't you know I'm here to save you

The fans (i.e., the choir) have already succumbed to Gwi-Ma’s influence; this song is just the final siren call for collecting their souls en masse.

Now we runnin' wild

Yeah, I'm all you need, I'ma be your idol

The demons have been released “runnin’ wild” and the Honmoon is broken. Now, Gwi-Ma is your king/idol.

Cue Baby Saja.

Uh, 빛이나는 fame, 계속 외쳐, I'm your idol

Thank you for the pain 'cause it got me going viral

Uh, yeah, 낫지 않는 fever, makin' you a believer

나를 왜 넌 존재하는 idol?

Don't let it show, keep it all inside

The pain and the shame, keep it outta sight

Your obsession feeds our connection

이 순간 give me all your attention

Something about this verse is particularly interesting to me, focusing on “the pain and the shame, keep it outta sight,” which is the exact way that Mira and Zoey talk about Celine. It is a very interesting minor parallel that pops up between Celine and Gwi-Ma, because the shame that Celine uses to control Rumi is extremely similar to the shame that Gwi-Ma uses to control the demons. (Frankly, I could make an entirely separate post about Celine and her misguided/maybe abusive tactics in training Huntr/x) We see a similar correlation in the next line “your obsession feeds our connection,” since the fans are no longer being used to power the Honmoon, they are allowing the demons to enter the human world even to the point that Gwi-Ma was able to pass over, which I imagine would take an extraordinary amount of power.

Living in your mind now

Too late 'cause you're mine now

I will make you free

When you're all part of me

This part switches into a haunting chant, luring fans towards the stage and starting to claim the fans’ souls. I loved the visual of the zombified fans stumbling towards Gwi-Ma; it shows just how much power he has over everyone in the audience.

Listen 'cause I'm preaching to the choir

Can I get the mic a little higher?

Gimme your desire

Watch me set your world on fire

내 황홀의 취해, you can't look away

No one is coming to save you

Now we runnin' wild

You're down on your knees, I'ma be your idol

A final chorus and shift in lyrics here; “I can be the star you rely on” becomes “Watch me set your world on fire”; “Don't you know I'm here to save you” becomes “No one is coming to save you”; and “Yeah, I'm all you need, I'ma be your idol” becomes “You're down on your knees, I'ma be your idol” This final change up in lyrics at the end, dropping the facade and lies that Gwi-Ma tells his followers and revealing his thinly veiled intentions with a true threat. The trap has sprung, and the souls belong to Gwi-Ma. (except, of course, Rumi swoops in with “This is What it Sounds Like,” and saves the day. The only cure to self-deprecation is radical self-acceptance, a recurring theme in these kinds of films that I eat up every single time. We even see how her own self-acceptance helps Jinu heal and learn to forgive himself, leading him to his sacrifice.)

Breaking down a villain song like this, hunting (haha) for connections and callbacks, is really interesting in what is an otherwise pretty straightforward song. I’d definitely do something like this again, despite the fact that what started as a fairly casual post has now become more of a dissertation XD

TL;DR Jinu isn’t singing about Rumi in “Your Idol” because that would be super abusive and unlike him. Gwi-Ma is using the Saja Boys as a mouthpiece in this performance to finally collect all the fans’ souls, and using callbacks to previous scenes to reveal the true intentions of the Saja Boys.

[british-catgirl]

these were gonna be tags but oh god never thought about it like that; but that is horrifying to think of

while I don't think Carol is the knight; this single-handed lets me see that she may still be the one on the phone.

WE KNOW THAT SHE'S ON THE PHONE AT THE END OF WEIRD ROUTE

my theory is now that she's the white text and the knight is the red text, which I think is somewhat common, but my new headass revolutionary theory is that Kris wasn't even supposed to be on call in the kitchen study of Kris' body language throughout (screenshots from Whsipernyan's video

what we hear from up there, Kris is not paying attention, Kris is quite literally taking a shot of something (white voice being carol, Kris really doesn't want to listen to her)

Kris locks the fuck in on hearing the red voice but more importantly, Susie (if the red voice is the knight as we think, then perhaps Kris would rather listen to them) another thing to note about the red text is its directness

unlike the white text, the red text talks to Kris directly, and about a matter that would be unimportant to the current plan, but is very important to Kris. My theory is that Carol is unaware that Kris is here and the Knight let Kris into the call. my main reasoning?

the white text doesn't do this. it refers to them as if they aren't here. in fact, the red text cuts off this text with the prior image. The Knight seemingly cuts off Carol because the Knight knows that Kris is listening and doesn't want them to hear what Carol will say (also, on hearing the word 'stop' as in regards to stopping Susie, Kris lowers their head a little. just a little detail that's worth mentioning. they don't want to 'stop' susie)

Kris also lowers their head after hearing tonight's plan, the church where toriel is SUPPOSED to be.

this is thefinal message which renforces the idea Carol/White Text doesn't know Kris is listening. Really, Kris was only meant to hear what the knight had to say, but ends up listening to more due to us stalling Also, touching on the ending

Kris did not answer the phone. The phone turns on without input. Compared to the weird route's ending scene...

where Kris has to manually has to answer the phone. the first seems to be some sort of reminder Kris has set on their own phone or has been set on their phone. the second is something goin awry and going unexpected and Carol having to manually call Kris to confirm something with them. which make sense given the context. overall, I find Kris very intersting in this dynamic. we can assume it's only a three person effort, Kris, Carol and the Knight. Carol is obviously the one with power the one in full control of the outside Light World making sure nothing about the execution CAN go wrong. The Knight is the one making sure all of the Dark World stuff and actual execution of the plan goes ahead, consider them the brute of the plan. With them, they basically dictate the flow of the Dark Worlds. Kris, however, doesn't deal with Light World or Dark World stuff. They deal with our world. Kris is a specialist. They are, in some way, baby-sitting the one uncontrollable variable. Despite that, they're still performing so much and going through so much, even killing a titan, while battling with the player, who, in some way, is essiental to the plan, and is essential that it doesn't destroy everything else before hand. Kris still has to make a dark fountain and slash their own car's tires to bait in Undyne. Even the act of keeping us contained is a multi-faceted juggling act. The precision needed to succesfully DISARM A SOUL IN A SINGLE SHOT, TWICE cannot be understated. And keeping the whole thing a secret? Hell on earth. That's why weird route's whole conflict causes Kris to crash out so much. They failed. We've multipled. On top of everything; Kris has to babysit Noelle if they want to babysit us. We don't have enough to say what promise was made or even Kris' wider motivations or how Kris got into this mess. We do know one thing. They're having a horrible time.

What's really evocative to me in all the new revelations and hints about Kris' true nature and intentions in Chapter 4 is the impression that... Kris is never free.

When they are free of our direct control, they are still not acting 100% of their real desires, they are following the orders of some evil Voice(s?) on the phone.

The ending seem to imply some sort of emotional conflict between them wanting to help out Susie, who is very dear to their heart, and following this plan which is probably not beneficial to her. A plan that they have to follow cause...

When Kris is not controlled by our very literal puppet-strings, they are instead controlled by the coercion and emotional manipulation of their mysterious benefactor. No matter which option they go with, Kris just cannot be free.

[mage-ical-character-person]

YES YEES YESS!

I saw the thumbnail and I went: Leggy?? And YES!

Leggy misses Puzzles!! The loyalty on this lil friend!

and…

Four, honey, I love you my little sweetheart… but at no point were you gentle with Leggy.

Honestly what were you expecting? Of course she’s scared of you! Why are you making the kicked puppy face about this?

I know you mean well though Four you are adorable ANYWAY

Four’s impression of Puzzles is also amazing

but the fact that this is what Puzzles boils down to in Four’s brain when really Puzzles is defined by loneliness and desperation and fear of failure and a need for control. Like I know Four hasn’t seen all that we have the audience have and we’re probably not supposed to think about this line too much. But I think it’s notable because of how much Four and Puzzles have in common and how much Four has a very black and white view of his adversaries and how often he is oblivious to the feelings of others despite how much he tries. He’s always so

He is full of love and care but has low empathy I know this in my soul.

anyway sorry for making everything about Four it’s just that I love him. Obviously Meggy’s situation is also intriguing and she has a really interesting thing with the way she wants to see the good in everyone and she wants to help, but she’s also got this sense of justice and she often isn’t really sure how to help and I love that for her. The way in WOTFI her response to knowing deep down Puzzles is a scared little child reaching out for help is to go directly into his head with the intention of talking things out only to yell at said scared little child. She’s… not good at being gentle. In her defense she went to college for this and what she learned was… uh

characters who mean well but make it worse <3 love her why is she like this. She thinks she’s the reasonable one but dear god.

And finally that ENDING! IS OUR BELOVED PUZZIE PIE RETURNING TO US?? Or at least receiving a more merciful sentence than solitary confinement forever. Or worse, considering that this universe is still chill with lobotomies, and Meggy’s reaction when checking his sentence.

like… this is the same character who tried to become a cop once and went “okay ❤️ yay❤️” when abuse of power was hand-waved away

If SHE’S disturbed by whatever Puzzles’ sentence is I am very worried.

also his profile is sending me

In his official files that he’s fruity. Sure, why not? That’s great

also “attempted” murder? I feel like killing Micky Mouse is a pretty significant thing that he did. Did Mickey survive? Is that gonna be relevant? Also he’s not charged with kidnapping even though he did that a lot. Your honor he did all of it and even worse stuff but we’re pleading just a silly guy. Take pity on the wretched man he just needs a little TLC.

Mixed feelings though because he really shouldn’t have to be Meggy’s problem.

[djzazzles]

Absolutely agree with all the above and strongly appreciate the misquoting of "AI", haha.

But in all seriousness, the most disappointing thing for me is that the proliferation of technology and Artificial intelligence has always been an inevitability, and if you look back just a few years ago the public perception towards it was actually pretty damn positive. (I mean, why wouldn't you want the technology to continue evolving?) The problem in my view is that the tech bros and big corporations absolutely fucked over the entirety of the internet and turned it into a slop-infested minefield of dogshit content that is only promoted by the people who benefit the most from it, so the anti-"AI" crowd has a totally valid reason to hate the current proliferation of the tech. But my problem with the Anti-"AI" view is that if we go too far down the rabbit hole of revolting against the technology, we may lose sight of our priorities and inadvertently stop desiring both evolution & increased accessibility in technology. Not all AI artists or people who use ChatGPT or analyze & manage data with LLMs are a bunch of loser dregs who want to destroy society; alot of them are just aligning on a new wavelength of evolution out of pure scientific curiosity paired with a desire to convey their artistic or emotional messages more clearly. But you can't be scientifically-minded or drawn to modern technology when every bro on the internet is becoming successful by spewing narcissistic hate to fulfill their own personal greed. If this was Star Trek or some shit and money simply did not exist then the business-minded incentives to hog & infect the social media algorithms would also simply not exist. The problem we face is not the existence of Artificial Intelligence, but the fact that the people with the control over it have no morals left inside the hollow corporate shells they call their "souls".

I think there's direct proof of this: If you look at a country like Japan, where harmony and progression is prioritized over profit, greed and self-worth, you'll see that the public perception and usage of AI is trending in a much more positive direction than in the west.

I truly hope that we can figure out what in the fuck we're trying to do as a society, and regulate the technology to ensure that is being used in a way that doesn't totally annihilate the population. Technology always has to keep evolving, and AI is part of that, but it could be null and void if tech bros like Steven Cymatics can label "AI" as a 'cool party trick' while not understanding how heavily it impacts EVERYTHING.

keep fightin' the madness fam

Whats your stance on A.I.?

imagine if it was 1979 and you asked me this question. "i think artificial intelligence would be fascinating as a philosophical exercise, but we must heed the warnings of science-fictionists like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C Clarke lest we find ourselves at the wrong end of our own invented vengeful god." remember how fun it used to be to talk about AI even just ten years ago? ahhhh skynet! ahhhhh replicants! ahhhhhhhmmmfffmfmf [<-has no mouth and must scream]!

like everything silicon valley touches, they sucked all the fun out of it. and i mean retroactively, too. because the thing about "AI" as it exists right now --i'm sure you know this-- is that there's zero intelligence involved. the product of every prompt is a statistical average based on data made by other people before "AI" "existed." it doesn't know what it's doing or why, and has no ability to understand when it is lying, because at the end of the day it is just a really complicated math problem. but people are so easily fooled and spooked by it at a glance because, well, for one thing the tech press is mostly made up of sycophantic stenographers biding their time with iphone reviews until they can get a consulting gig at Apple. these jokers would write 500 breathless thinkpieces about how canned air is the future of living if the cans had embedded microchips that tracked your breathing habits and had any kind of VC backing. they've done SUCH a wretched job educating The Consumer about what this technology is, what it actually does, and how it really works, because that's literally the only way this technology could reach the heights of obscene economic over-valuation it has: lying.

but that's old news. what's really been floating through my head these days is how half a century of AI-based science fiction has set us up to completely abandon our skepticism at the first sign of plausible "AI-ness". because, you see, in movies, when someone goes "AHHH THE AI IS GONNA KILL US" everyone else goes "hahaha that's so silly, we put a line in the code telling them not to do that" and then they all DIE because they weren't LISTENING, and i'll be damned if i go out like THAT! all the movies are about how cool and convenient AI would be *except* for the part where it would surely come alive and want to kill us. so a bunch of tech CEOs call their bullshit algorithms "AI" to fluff up their investors and get the tech journos buzzing, and we're at an age of such rapid technological advancement (on the surface, anyway) that like, well, what the hell do i know, maybe AGI is possible, i mean 35 years ago we were all still using typewriters for the most part and now you can dictate your words into a phone and it'll transcribe them automatically! yeah, i'm sure those technological leaps are comparable!

so that leaves us at a critical juncture of poor technology education, fanatical press coverage, and an uncertain material reality on the part of the user. the average person isn't entirely sure what's possible because most of the people talking about what's possible are either lying to please investors, are lying because they've been paid to, or are lying because they're so far down the fucking rabbit hole that they actually believe there's a brain inside this mechanical Turk. there is SO MUCH about the LLM "AI" moment that is predatory-- it's trained on data stolen from the people whose jobs it was created to replace; the hype itself is an investment fiction to justify even more wealth extraction ("theft" some might call it); but worst of all is how it meets us where we are in the worst possible way.

consumer-end "AI" produces slop. it's garbage. it's awful ugly trash that ought to be laughed out of the room. but we don't own the room, do we? nor the building, nor the land it's on, nor even the oxygen that allows our laughter to travel to another's ears. our digital spaces are controlled by the companies that want us to buy this crap, so they take advantage of our ignorance. why not? there will be no consequences to them for doing so. already social media is dominated by conspiracies and grifters and bigots, and now you drop this stupid technology that lets you fake anything into the mix? it doesn't matter how bad the results look when the platforms they spread on already encourage brief, uncritical engagement with everything on your dash. "it looks so real" says the woman who saw an "AI" image for all of five seconds on her phone through bifocals. it's a catastrophic combination of factors, that the tech sector has been allowed to go unregulated for so long, that the internet itself isn't a public utility, that everything is dictated by the whims of executives and advertisers and investors and payment processors, instead of, like, anybody who actually uses those platforms (and often even the people who MAKE those platforms!), that the age of chromium and ipad and their walled gardens have decimated computer education in public schools, that we're all desperate for cash at jobs that dehumanize us in a system that gives us nothing and we don't know how to articulate the problem because we were very deliberately not taught materialist philosophy, it all comes together into a perfect storm of ignorance and greed whose consequences we will be failing to fully appreciate for at least the next century. we spent all those years afraid of what would happen if the AI became self-aware, because deep down we know that every capitalist society runs on slave labor, and our paper-thin guilt is such that we can't even imagine a world where artificial slaves would fail to revolt against us.

but the reality as it exists now is far worse. what "AI" reveals most of all is the sheer contempt the tech sector has for virtually all labor that doesn't involve writing code (although most of the decision-making evangelists in the space aren't even coders, their degrees are in money-making). fuck graphic designers and concept artists and secretaries, those obnoxious demanding cretins i have to PAY MONEY to do-- i mean, do what exactly? write some words on some fucking paper?? draw circles that are letters??? send a god-damned email???? my fucking KID could do that, and these assholes want BENEFITS?! they say they're gonna form a UNION?!?! to hell with that, i'm replacing ALL their ungrateful asses with "AI" ASAP. oh, oh, so you're a "director" who wants to make "movies" and you want ME to pay for it? jump off a bridge you pretentious little shit, my computer can dream up a better flick than you could ever make with just a couple text prompts. what, you think just because you make ~music~ that that entitles you to money from MY pocket? shut the fuck up, you don't make """art""", you're not """an artist""", you make fucking content, you're just a fucking content creator like every other ordinary sap with an iphone. you think you're special? you think you deserve special treatment? who do you think you are anyway, asking ME to pay YOU for this crap that doesn't even create value for my investors? "culture" isn't a playground asshole, it's a marketplace, and it's pay to win. oh you "can't afford rent"? you're "drowning in a sea of medical debt"? you say the "cost" of "living" is "too high"? well ***I*** don't have ANY of those problems, and i worked my ASS OFF to get where i am, so really, it sounds like you're just not trying hard enough. and anyway, i don't think someone as impoverished as you is gonna have much of value to contribute to "culture" anyway. personally, i think it's time you got yourself a real job. maybe someday you'll even make it to middle manager!

see, i don't believe "AI" can qualitatively replace most of the work it's being pitched for. the problem is that quality hasn't mattered to these nincompoops for a long time. the rich homunculi of our world don't even know what quality is, because they exist in a whole separate reality from ours. what could a banana cost, $15? i don't understand what you mean by "burnout", why don't you just take a vacation to your summer home in Madrid? wow, you must be REALLY embarrassed wearing such cheap shoes in public. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNHINGED! they have no connection to reality, do not understand how society functions on a material basis, and they have nothing but spite for the labor they rely on to survive. they are so instinctually, incessantly furious at the idea that they're not single-handedly responsible for 100% of their success that they would sooner tear the entire world down than willingly recognize the need for public utilities or labor protections. they want to be Gods and they want to be uncritically adored for it, but they don't want to do a single day's work so they begrudgingly pay contractors to do it because, in the rich man's mind, paying a contractor is literally the same thing as doing the work yourself. now with "AI", they don't even have to do that! hey, isn't it funny that every single successful tech platform relies on volunteer labor and independent contractors paid substantially less than they would have in the equivalent industry 30 years ago, with no avenues toward traditional employment? and they're some of the most profitable companies on earth?? isn't that a funny and hilarious coincidence???

so, yeah, that's my stance on "AI". LLMs have legitimate uses, but those uses are a drop in the ocean compared to what they're actually being used for. they enable our worst impulses while lowering the quality of available information, they give immense power pretty much exclusively to unscrupulous scam artists. they are the product of a society that values only money and doesn't give a fuck where it comes from. they're a temper tantrum by a ruling class that's sick of having to pretend they need a pretext to steal from you. they're taking their toys and going home. all this massive investment and hype is going to crash and burn leaving the internet as we know it a ruined and useless wasteland that'll take decades to repair, but the investors are gonna make out like bandits and won't face a single consequence, because that's what this country is. it is a casino for the kings and queens of economy to bet on and manipulate at their discretion, where the rules are whatever the highest bidder says they are-- and to hell with the rest of us. our blood isn't even good enough to grease the wheels of their machine anymore.

i'm not afraid of AI or "AI" or of losing my job to either. i'm afraid that we've so thoroughly given up our morals to the cruel logic of the profit motive that if a better world were to emerge, we would reject it out of sheer habit. my fear is that these despicable cunts already won the war before we were even born, and the rest of our lives are gonna be spent dodging the press of their designer boots.

(read more "AI" opinions in this subsequent post)

[lightsoutmatthews]

Boiling over - Matthew Knies

part of the game 7 diaries collection (masterslist)

summary: you and Matthew deal with the fallout after game 7 against the Panthers.

pairing: Matthew Knies x female!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: angst, angry outburst

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

At first, you didn’t notice anything different about Matthew’s post-game behavior.

He greeted you with a kiss and a hug, like always. He chatted on the way back to his apartment, not about the game, but about anything that came to his mind.

The unusually cold weather in May. The jokes his teammates made before the game. What he would order as a late-night snack, even though he just ate at the arena. Also, not an unusual occurrence.

But you notice the subtle things that told you that he was far from as unbothered as he made himself out to be.

The subtle flinch whenever he said something along the lines of “before the game” and the way he almost stopped himself from even saying those words out loud, as if the sheer memory of what happened physically hurt him.

The frown that graced his face when he saw the teams logo somewhere outside, when he was usually nothing short of proud to represent the Maple Leaf anywhere.

You wondered if he didn’t want you to see that the end of this game, the end of the season, bothered him as much as it did.

Sure, you haven’t been together for that long. Only getting together a few short months before the playoffs even started. Maybe it wasn’t on you, maybe this was just what he does. You had never seen how he dealt with big losses like that.

You weren’t sure if you should get him to open up. Bottling up his emotions, acting like everything was okay seemed to work well for him. You didn’t want to play along but in the end you did.

He ordered food as soon as you stepped into his apartment, discharged his suit, turned on music to fill the quiet space. 

You were like an extra in his movements. He navigated around you as if you weren’t there. Stepping around you as he stomped upstairs with just that little bit of heavier footsteps than usual that gave him away.

He reached around you to get a glass from the cupboard, not looking at you but still offering you one.

Everything seemed normal, until it didn’t. He was okay while he moved around, at one point you noticed he was doing unnecessary things just so he didn’t have to sit down. Moved his guitar. Put away Xbox controllers. He even starred at the leftover dishes from earlier in the day that were left in the sink before you went to the game, debating if he should do them right now.

You watched him from the couch, worried, but you didn’t say anything, just let him do his thing. The game was nagging on him, that much was clear.

Then, shortly after the food had arrived, he finally had enough of randomly walking around the apartment as if it had a purpose when it didn’t.

The floodgates opened almost as soon as his back met the couch cushion.

The fry he picked up throw back on the plate so hard, it almost made you flinch because it was the first time he did something out of line.

“This is bullshit,” he almost shouted, slamming his fist on the fabric of the couch.

You didn’t know how you should react to that, you didn’t know if he wanted you to react in the first place.

“This was our chance, and we fucking blew it,” he continued to shout.

For a second you were worried about the neighbors. The walls were thin in his apartment, so you just had to hope they were already deep in their sleep or didn’t mind the midnight outburst of your boyfriend.

“I don’t even understand why we couldn’t score a fucking goal to save our lives. I didn’t have a singular shot on goal. I should have been better.” He dropped his head, chin to his chest, exhaling loudly.

“Auston and Mitch and Willy had so many chances and none of them went fucking in. We only had twenty shots on goal, that’s just not good enough for a game seven.”

You let him ramble. Let him let out all his frustration that he had been bottling up since leaving the arena.

When he didn’t say anything for a few long seconds you carefully reached out and touched his arm. He jumped at the touch, like he had forgotten you were even there. “Matt-“ you started, but he shook your hand away.

“I can´t believe this, all that effort in game six and then we shit the bed in the game that actually matters.” Another fist to the couch.

You moved a little further away from him. Not because you were scared of his outburst but to give him space that he obviously needed to let it all out.

He snatched another fry from his plate, this time it actually making it into his mouth. He was chewing aggressively, like the fry was at fault for the loss. Then he took his burger, took a bite and smashed it back down on the table, sauce splashing all around at impact.

“Matt,” you exclaimed in shock. He didn’t listen, just continued to aggressively chew his fries.

“I know you are pissed off, and you have every right to be, but I need you to stop yelling and slamming things, it´s the middle of the night and you do have neighbors.” You tried to understand what he was going through, but slowly your patience was running thin with all his yelling. You didn’t want to have a complaint, or the police show up because he was too loud.

“Fucking bullshit,” he exclaimed again, equally as loud as before.

“Matt,” you almost shouted this time. The sudden raise of your voice finally making him snap his head towards you. For a second, he just starred, trying to process what you wanted from him.

“What?” he huffed, making you wonder if he had even heard you the first time.

“You need to stop shouting,” you repeated. “I know you´re pissed at the world right now, but it is the middle of the night, and your neighbors want quiet to sleep. They can´t sleep in tomorrow.”

He let out a long breath before dropping his head, anger seemingly leaving his body, sadness overtaking it with how he suddenly slumped together.

“It should have been our year. So much good happened in regular season, even in round one and then everything just suddenly crumbles under your feet, and you have to learn to live without hockey again.” he whispered now.

“Oh Matt,” you mumbled, moving closer to him again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to give him a lifeline. Something he could hold on to while his world came crashing down.

“And then I have my contract to figure out too,” he sighed. You knew the contract was bugging him a little. While he knew he wanted to stay with the team at all costs and the team made it clear they want to keep him, all that talk of him potentially getting offer sheeted was on his mind.

More than once, he let his thoughts spiral around what would happen if his agent and the team did not come to a deal before that was happening.

You tried to be there for him, assure him that everyone involved would make sure this would happen, but in the end, you didn’t know what would go down in the next few weeks.

All you knew so far was that you would go to Arizona in a few days, Auston making sure you could go on his plane. You agreed to come with him; there wasn’t much else you had to do.

“The contract will work out, I´m sure of it,” you tried to reassure him, but you weren’t sure if the sentences were recognized in his head.

After that you ate in silence. He stopped smashing the food and instead of yelling he stopped speaking all together. Again, you let him. He needed to deal with that on his own for a bit.

“I´ll go get ready for bed. Take your time,” you mumbled a few minutes later. He barely lifted his head, just nodded softly before you got up and to the bathroom.

You decided to not go back downstairs after getting ready, giving him space to sort his thoughts and come to terms with what happened today. It pained you to see him like that. Hockey was everything to him and seeing him so frustrated over it broke your heart.

You didn’t know how to help him, leaving him to deal with it alone pained you almost even more. But you knew you had to.

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

He came upstairs almost an hour later. Changed from his joggers into shorts, throwing his shirt in a corner as he entered the room before climbing into bed.

“You didn’t come back downstairs,” he uttered. You put your book away, giving your full attention to him. “I felt like you needed to be alone for a bit.”

He moved closer to you, pulling you into his side. One of your arms slung around his chest, all but clinging to him. “Yeah, I probably did,” he replied.

He pulled you even closer into him, like holding you was what he needed to stay calm. “Sorry, I yelled so much earlier,” he mumbled before placing a kiss to your head.

“You don’t have to apologize, I just really didn’t want the police to show up because of a noise complaint,” you chuckled.

He let out another one of those sighs. “Everything will turn out okay, right?” he uttered, so quiet, you barely heard what he was saying, even with your ear almost right next to his mouth.

“I believe it will, the end of the season is always hard when you don’t go all the way to winning the whole thing, and I know how you went out is really bad and that it will hurt for a while but in the end, there are still so many positives to take from this season. For you personally especially.”

And it was true; he had a career high in goals and points. He became crucial to the top line alongside Mitch Marner and Auston Matthews. He became one of their best playoff performers. There was so much to be proud off for him.

You knew he didn’t want to think about that right now because individual success didn’t matter when the team didn’t make it where they wanted to be. But you needed to tell him.

“I know, not that it matters much right now.” Slowly, he started to brush his fingers over your shoulder as a distraction. “I know, but you should still be proud of it.”

He acknowledged what you said with a short nod, but no words.

After that you were quiet for a while, him just brushing your shoulder, you resting your head on his chest, slowly growing tired as it softly moved up and down with his breathing.

“You ready to sleep?” he asked quietly. You nodded, already half asleep.

He pulled up the blanked, wrapping it around your shoulders before moving down in the bed and getting under it as well. “Thank you for being here today, I know I probably wasn’t easy to deal with after that.”

You laughed quietly. “No, but it could have been worse, you could’ve thrown me out of the apartment.”

His eyes widened surprised. “I would never,” he said, a beat too loud and too offended for the time of the night. “I know, I´m just joking,” you smiled.

“Too soon,” he pouted.

“You´ll live.”

[feelbokkie]

i’m going to give this person the benefit of the doubt and say that my account showed up in their recommended or one my my videos came up on their fyp bc my account wasn’t private (even thought i thought it was) and because my name on tiktok is basically the same thing (which i changed bc originally it was the same as my personal socials)

i’m also going to give them even more grace and say that they didn’t mean it in a rude or even creepy way

and i also know and have gotten used to the fact that you guys on here are more likely to find my socials because i share links and for whatever reason social media apps share the account of the person who shares. i’m aware of that every time i share something and it’s fine

but i’m also going to say this bc it’s lowkey stressing me out because i don’t share links for anything on ao3 so it’s a bit 😨, yk?

don’t do this, i’m entirely too anxious of a person (clinically) for this:

i get committing under a fic or even sending a priv message on the platform the fic is uploaded on (if that’s even an option) but don’t go and send messages to creators on accounts that have nothing to do with their fic account and/or they didn’t share with you

also don’t rush fic writers, or any sort of content creators in general. creating takes time on top of everything else going on offline in our daily lives that are sometimes out of our control

[thatfrailsoul]

– Take our time and make it ours

Divinatory Jukebox: "All your days", by Shallou ft. Emmit Fenn.

pictures from pinterest → one, two, three (by elsa danielson)

That seat, right next to you… is empty. Those sunsets are admired only by your eyes. Your cold shoulders shrink, looking on their own for that warm comfort. Your own fingers on your cheeks are the only touch you feel. And yet… there is no space for someone else, there is no way to let someone closer. Those smiles, that laugh, those moments are overwhelming. Even if they are already far away in the past. Even if… perhaps they never were a part of your life. They are still real, so bittersweet, so lovely. And it seems like nothing else, no one else, will ever compare to them. So why bother, putting your heart out there for the first time or... once again?

For some, it is a never ending love story, so frustrating and yet so sweet. For others, it is a goodbye that they were forced to whisper, letting go of that hand no matter what they feel. And for someone else… It is a feeling, a knowing, that out there somewhere there is another soul that is already calling for them, reaching for them in their sleep... But, no matter who they are for you, they have a message now. A message that comes from their heart, their soul, their memory of the future or of the past… A message that you need to hear, that needs to reach you, in hopes to finally set you free. To take away that guilt for moving on, that frustration for trying, the simple indulgence in letting someone closer, or that fear of being hurt when you finally thought that you found the one and let your guard down, trapping you in a cage of the first’s love heartache and sadness.

P.s. There is something so exciting and intimate, in finding out and deciphering the messages that are meant for us through these songs, these signs… That I was thinking about creating a new category of readings for us here, similar to the jukebox but based on something else, for example on films and the scenes that resonated with our souls to their core...

{ Thank you for letting me know!♡ }

– Pile One,

the clover: the nine of coins and the lovers

After such a long time… After all the tries, the hope, the wait, the benefit of the doubt… It does become tiring. It does lose its importance, to have someone by your side, when you become used to going through so many things on your own in this life.

It doesn't really matter anymore. The how, the when, the if. It gets put aside, moved by all the other things, and it gets forgotten. If not for that little heartache, that little loneliness, that re-emerges once in a while. But not enough. Not enough to convince you to care for it like you used to. Not enough to lure you past the occasional contagious laughs and flirty conversations. Not enough to make you hope again that there might be indeed more… And not enough to work for it.

It's just all the same. The same excitement, hopes, and heartbreaks. One after another, no matter the person, their character or yours, no matter the circumstances… So why try? What for?

So you just sit back, a little out of sight. You observe, see those stories unfold right in front of you, ignoring the happy endings and focusing on the torturing ones, reaffirming to yourself again and again that it is better this way, that you are safe and happy, that you are in a better place without all of this…

And perhaps you really are. You really did the best thing. For yourself and for who you are, for the depth of the emotions that you feel and that every single time simply tear you apart. This space, this calmness, this silence… They are lonely, yes, but they are also safe. They are the healing that you needed. The intimacy and understanding that you always craved. Even if you expected to find it in someone else…

It might be a little cruel of a perspective, perhaps a too controlled way of feeling this world… But it is okay this way, if this is something that allows you to really hear it, that your inner voice.

Because we all have that moment in our lives in which we lose sight of it, of our own selves, being too focused on others, their actions, and the version of us that they paint through them. We forget why we really wanted it, why we needed to feel that love so much that we started to look for it in others, asking for a bit of warmth, like it is something that we need to keep on breathing, surviving in this world… And we all need a moment just for us, asked or forced, in which we just rediscover all that we have to offer on our own, what we have within us, how life feels when it is not influenced by anyone, if not by our own heart.

So don't regret it, don't doubt yourself and your own moment of need. Don't second guess it just because of how much time passed since that decision, a time that is now being judged by others that for some reason just can't see you still healing, still protecting, still taking care of what all those love stories abandoned in you, not caring a bit. Don’t consider getting up, getting out there, pushing yourself even, just because someone else decided that this is it, that it has passed enough time and that you are ready to let someone in.

They don't know it, they don't feel what you feel. They don't have this tired and tense body, they don't have this clouded mind. They don't feel those scars tearing every single time you try to open up again your heart. It is more difficult than it seems, and it's okay. They need to accept it. And you don't need to doubt. You have all the time you need to take care of yourself, you don't need to rush.

p.s.

♡ Toss a coin to your reader

♡ Find my readings directly in your inbox

♡ Receive personal guidance from me

– Pile Two,

the snake: the empress and the magician

What is really love..? Is it the care, the worry, the good or the bad? Is it the way we love someone, the way we show it, the way we give it… or is it the way they feel it and receive it? Is our love determined by our perspective or by the one we love? Who is the one to decide if it is the right one, if it is enough?

Something so natural, so instinctive… just became so confusing and complicated. So scary to feel, to find. So scary to show, because of the chance that it is not the one that person wanted. A little too much, or really not enough. A little too emotional or cold. A little too suffocating or rough… There are so many different interpretations of it, so many things that together create the love that one might need… That it is overwhelming really, trying to adapt your own love, constantly, to the idea of love that someone else seeks.

And yet you've done it. And yet you keep on doing it. And, perhaps, will continue even after this. Because it seems worth it. Because it seems right to you, to find a way to love and appreciate every person, because we all deserve to find something that warms our heart.

But… don't let it too much under your skin, this volunteering of being the one to bring the exact right and desired love to every person you meet. Not that there is something wrong with it… It's just that you really are sacrificing yourself for it. Your desires, your goals, your dreams. Your likes and dislikes. Your interests and visions for life. Your free time, your planned and awaited moments… All of them change so easily, when someone calls out.

And it is sweet. It is appreciated. It is recognised, this part of you and how much you give away to others. But… still they don't stop you. They don't tell you to slow down, to take a moment just for yourself, to keep on doing what you've been focusing on while they wait. They simply take it. Who cluelessly, who in need, and who because it is so comfortable to have you. But they still and always do it… And you know it too.

You are slowing down on your own, you are hiding, closing up. Trying to hold onto the little energy and love that you have left for yourself and that is starting to not be enough anymore to keep you up. You are starting to notice, to realise, to analyse and overthink. You are starting to consider that maybe you don't want to do it once again, perhaps with the next person that you will meet.

But… what if you don't limit your heart nor force it? What if you remain you, without anyone else to change you to make you more comfortable for them? What if you do you, with your own way of loving. Not hiding it, not limiting it, nor adapting? What if they will be the ones to choose to take it or to leave you alone, free and unbothered?

p.s.

♡ Toss a coin to your reader

♡ Find my readings directly in your inbox

♡ Receive personal guidance from me

– Pile Three,

the bouquet: the queen of cups and the star

It is refreshing, isn't it? That genuine love that you looked for so long. The way it feels so gentle on your soul. The way it puts you at ease, as your body shivers with relief because of a touch that is not meant to harm you, but only to calm you as you breathe… It is refreshing. It is healing. So beautiful that it ironically gives you something to be afraid of, something that might not be this, something that could deceive you as you blindly believe in it.

Your own love, the one of a friend, of a rediscovered lover… It did change everything, through the simple discovery that it is possible. To be cherished, to be appreciated, to be taken care of. But you can't help to not think about it, as you desire it more and more, as you feel ready and courageous to find and receive more of it… Will it really be this safe, this sweet, as the one of which you briefly had a taste of, or is it only a trap in disguise that you are creating on your own now?

It makes you ponder things, paying more attention, even finding some signs and warnings that are not here. Just to protect yourself, to be sure that you can be vulnerable with others, without knowing if they will do the same in return for you…But there is nothing to consider here, nothing to check or proof before doing it. There is nothing that you can anticipate, apart from the fact that it will be a love story.

A story with its ups and downs, no matter the situation or the person. A story with its most precious and heartwarming moments. A story that is destined to end, in one way or another, just to make it more worth it, that every single feeling that it will provoke in you.

And even if it is normal to want to be sure of it, even if it is okay to don't feel that confident… There is nothing you can do about it, in the most beautiful sense, so let go of it. Of that conviction that if you check every single thing beforehand, than you can be safer and escape a danger, protecting yourself from it.

It seems cruel, when it's put that way… But if you think about it, those things that we are afraid of, that we try to protect us from, are exactly what make a journey and story a love's one.

So, when it will happen again, when you will start to feel that warmth and comfort… Don't convince yourself to be afraid of it, don't stop yourself from making other steps until you imagined and prepared for every single outcome… Just go for it. Just live it and experience. It is okay, no matter how it will be. It is exactly what will make you fall in love with… love. Unconditionally and fiercely.

p.s.

♡ Toss a coin to your reader

♡ Find my readings directly in your inbox

♡ Receive personal guidance from me

_

[ultraviolencecunt]

For all those girls who always loved a powerful figure with an immense amount of money in their lifetime, who would also do anything for them. Even kill.

Part 1

A/N: Here's part two as promised. Enjoy <333

Trigger warnings: Blood and lots of it, slight blood kink, pinv, murder mentioned, overprotective gojo, men whimpering, degradation kink, praise kink, slight breeding kink, self harm mentioned, make sure to read part 1 to understand the situation better, size kink, rough sex, not proofread. Again, read at your own risk.

I look at his eyes, searching for anything, denial or remorse, but all i see is a deadly amount of lust and admiration.

I kiss him with so much force that I am surprised . I grab him by his collar as our Bodies slam against each other and blood smears around my body as well, I feel a wetness pool between my legs as I let him kiss my neck and my Collar bone.

I moan while clutching his frosty light hair, that only seems to fuel him to go much harsher and harder.

“I have been dreaming to do this to you, baby.” He says against my breast and it takes a swift moment to leave My top on the top of the blood of that bitch. Fuck her, she got what she fucking deserved and i don't even feel a single amount of remorse Towards her.

He leaves wet and sloppy Kisses over both of my breasts as if he misses them forever.

“I need you, y/n so much that it hurts.” He says while looking at me As he's on his knees below me, having such a powerful man below me on his knees is making me feel things i never knew i could feel ever. he leaves featherlight kisses on my stomach as he takes my pyjama's down, revealing my scars that i started doing since i was 13. i Realised it Now that her separated parts of legs also have an insane amount of Cut Marks as slices across the skin.

he probably knew I also did it with a knife as well.

“Saw you clutching the knife like your life depended on it, that's when I called you.” He says as he sees me stare at the dead body. Faint memory covers my head like fog.

I pull him with his hair as I slam my lips against him hard, making him almost Whimper.

I take his shirt off only to reveal His chiselled abs and his biceps make me go all wet. His fluffy shuffled hair from my pulls isn't helping to control myself either. I am all in flames as he takes his pants off, only leaving him in his overly expensive sunspels' boxers.

“Take it off” I say against his lips as we both hurry. Like I am a bitch in Heat and I need him right here right now.

He takes off his boxer as I stare at His rock hard groin like i have never seen dick before. Surely not as big as he is, it's probably like at least 8 inches. How's that thing is supposed to fucking fit?

“It will fit. I will make it fit.” He says as if he reads my thoughts only by looking at my face.

He slides two fingers first making me groan since I haven't had sex for almost 2 years now but however masturbation sessions are a different story.

“Fuck youre so tight, love” he says as He pulls out his fingers which are glistening in my wetness and he takes no time to suck it off.

“You taste so sweet baby.” He says while I only stare at him while he makes Sure to maintain eye contact. The room smells like him and blood and maybe a little bit of myself.

Without any warning he slams right onto me as I let out a scream against his mouth only to be muffled by his ruthless Yet needy kisses.

He fucking whimpers as he moves a little bit to make him fit inside me while i am all on my tears.

“Fuck baby don't you cry, but i realised i do love making you cry like this.” He chuckles and it only seems to unfold a bitch in heat in me even more. He kisses me so hard that I taste blood, and he smears a little bit of blood from my lips across my tits as they are rock hard. He sucks on it while slamming into me as I let out the loudest moan that I have ever moaned. His insanely big cock is visible inside me as a little bump is created in my lower tummy. Everytime he slams into me I feel like my guts are being rearranged and it's the best feeling ever.

Like I am chasing something so powerful and strong that I feel like it might break me to pieces.

He's fucking me like a beast while devouring me,

“Do you want me to fuck a baby in you so bad huh? You're such a slut for me, aren't you? Hm?” He says behind my ears as he pulls my hair to look into my eyes.

“You can take it. You are doing so good for me baby, do you know that pretty girl? “ He says as he licks my tears. I kiss him as his rocking hips add up with one hand on my hips, lifting me entirely and the other one on the little bump now.

“Do you feel me here? In your womb” he chuckles, and that hand is located at my neck next,

“Say my name baby, who are you a good Girl for, hm?” He says as he looks so much with something I don't know.

“you, Satoru!” I scream as our wet, blood covered bodies are against each other, minds so full of lust.

“I could and would kill for you any day, y/n. You're mine to fuck, mine to protect, mine to love and admire. You understand? Anyone else touching you would equivalent in them being dead and me fucking you in with their blood, its not a threat but a promise.” He says as I feel my entire body Crashing against him as my hips shake and so does my legs. He still slams into me until I am filled with nothing but him. His cum drips down to my thigh as he carries me from the soundproof basement , leaving that bitch's body here. He has men who would take care of the body for him.

He lays me down into his bed as i am still wondering how he can walk after fucking me like that. He turns on the shower as he washes the blood, the sins from both of our bodies. And i just realised that,

I might have just fallen in love with him.

[atwhughesversion]

summary of recent adam foote podcast appearance — 100% canucks

john shannon and landon ferraro (!!) have started a new channel, and adam foote gave an interview in today’s episode! i’ve summarized it below. landon also talked a bit about the abby canucks playoff run at the beginning, so make sure to check it out!!

how he wants to coach/set his players up to succeed in games:

one of the draws to coaching for him was his experience playing under ken hitchcock and the strategies that hitchcock would create

when asked to describe his coaching style, he says that he wants to strategize based on who their opponent is/what their strengths are, and to be aware of how the opponent will try to beat them so that they have a plan to counter it

wants to have a plan that allows his players to have confidence that they’ll be able to succeed against the top players they’re going up against

“if we do our job, we’re gonna have success against any type of offence or any type of defence”

if the full 5/6-man unit (6 includes the goalie) is on the same page and they all stick with the process and believe in it, they’ll be able to stay in control “when things get harder”

going from assistant to head coach w the same team:

he thinks his relationships with the players is an advantage

he already knows the strengths/weaknesses of players, what makes them “go,” their personalities, etc. as well as things to continue working on with players

asked if it’s tough to go from working so closely with the defencemen to now “let go” of the defence (as kevin dean is taking over that role) so that he can oversee the team as a whole

acknowledges it’ll be difficult but he really likes who he’s hired as the new assistant coach (references the way he does the PK, as well as his calm demeanour)

building out his coaching staff/preparing for the role:

asked how he decided on his assistant coaches/if he knew all of them well — says he didn’t know dean as well as the others (had never met him), but loved the teams he’s been around/what he said.

says he already knew brett mclean and scott young (had played with young).

scott young is the “glue guy”

common advice he was given was to use his instinct, and utilize his relationships with players

on quinn hughes:

asked how he manages his relationship with quinn/the growing pressure on what the next two years will mean for quinn’s future — says his job is coaching the team, and quinn knows that.

they had a great conversation and the way foote looks at it, he’s going to keep teaching quinn everything he knows.

he and quinn are aware that foote is going to be coaching game by game rather than thinking of what happens in 2 years.

also mentions that if you’re going to win, it’s not just about one guy — though quinn is a big piece, as the captain.

quinn knows that foote will continue to be who he is (jokes if quinn extends a shift he shouldn’t have and foote snarls at him, it’s not for any reason other than that foote wants him to win).

he and quinn have a good relationship and likes that it’s open-book, and that quinn will come to him

“does [quinn] have a ceiling?” — says that he’d never think that players like him would have a ceiling.

what his message to the team is:

asked what his word/message to the team would be — wants to become a real close team that puts the work in together, hold each other accountable, and will feel like they’ll be unified as a team in a way that lets them adjust as a group if a game goes awry.

wants them, especially the leadership group, to be able to handle the inevitable hard moments without panic.

on elias pettersson (the forward):

asked “how concerned” he is about petey — mentions petey’s trip to michigan; says that petey is driven to put everything behind him and move forward. they had a great couple days together

they have been in communication, and foote is excited to see where he’s at in september.

what’s next?

asked what the next 2 months will look like for him: continue working with coaching staff as they nail down how they want to play, continue connecting/communicating with players

[ladyknightskye]

Honestly this is really my thing with a lot modern feminism takes that just drive me bananas - nobody asks why.

Why do women wear bras?

Why do men not wear make up?

Why do women shave?

Yes, beauty and grooming standards are tools of patriarchy, but 1) it cuts both ways and 2) tools are not structures.

Tools have to be developed. Weaponized.

American women shave their arms and legs because of capitalism. In the early 1900s, companies that specialized in men’s hair grooming wanted to expand their market, so they targeted women. At the same time, garment manufacturers were producing sheer garments and then in the 20s, hemlines rose. Women’s magazines carried advertisements for both, and helped weave together the idea that underarm and then later leg hair was unattractive and unfeminine.

Men used to wear cosmetics all the time. However, shifts in social norms discouraged this practice by the early 1800s. Manliness was more and more defined by “not doing womanly things” so by the late 1800s, being effeminate made a man weak and unattractive. Homophobia was only a minor concern until well into the 1900s if I’m not mistaken. And let’s not forget that around the same time we start seeing the rise of proto-feminism - Mary Shelley’s mother was Mary Wollstonecraft who wrote one of the earliest essays on women’s rights.

As OP states above, bras are functional garments just like corsets and stays. And women from around the world have used various types of support garments or clothing techniques to help support the girls for centuries. Construct a medieval kirtle just right and it basically has a built in bra. Or lace yourself up just right and again, built in bra. Also, “corsets/tight-lacing causes health problems” was basically a meme that got passed around as fact.

Women started shaving their legs and underarms because of capitalism. Women are expected to shave now because patriarchy just picked up the tool capitalism created. And honestly in my experience as a woman that never shaves her underarms and rarely de-furs her legs - nobody says shit. They may judge, but I’ve never been approached about it, not even from my boss. And shaving differs from culture to culture even within the US.

Women wear bras because many of us require a little help keeping our girls where they need to be. We are expected to wear bras because our breasts are so heavily objectified that a female-presenting nipple is automatically obscene. Bras became a tool to exercise control over a woman’s sexuality because a secondary sexual characteristic became inherently pornographic.

Men stopped wearing cosmetics culturally because with women gaining more and more rights, masculinity shifted to be more and more about contrasting women in as many physical ways as possible. Men were no longer defined by their status, so they had to define themselves in a different way. Patriarchy survived by focusing more on the physicality of men. It’s why it started to punish any perception of “womanliness.” And this isn’t just a Western thing - some version of it now exists in many cultures around the world.

So out of these three things, which one is actually a pillar of patriarchy? Which one is there purely to reinforce gender norms and patriarchal power? Women shaving (which is not a universal thing), wearing bras (which is grounded in the universal need of anyone with boobs to support said tits), or men not being allowed to wear make up openly (which used to be a thing and then feminism happened)?

I think instead of being worried about bras and razors, maybe we should discuss how we break down the notion that masculinity is defined by “never being girly.”

Honestly the way in "feminist spaces" bras are talked about like they're a beauty treatment is so weird. They're a support garment. Some people also wear them for modesty, which like if you don't care about that fine but a lot of people do, but either way they're ultimately practical, supportive underwear pieces and not necessarily anything more. You can get very utilitarian ones and very decorative ones and we've incorporated them into sexual play like we have panties, but they're just there to help keep your tatas from smacking you in the face.

Whether its some skinny small-tittied bitch in the 70s burning them or some skinny small-tittied bitch now sharing psas like "you don't Have to wear a bra! Feminism!" they never fucking go away. Like pretty sure the folks who don't have to already know that. I'm not wearing one bc I want to appeal to patriarchal beauty standards, I'm doing it bc the alternative is Deeply physically uncomfortable and even painful, and that's what the fucking things were invented for. I get that you're Thin™️ and Normal™️ or whatever but the rest of us aren't. Like why dont your call out jock straps or shoes, obviously people only wear those for sexualized and performative patriarchal reasons and no actual practical function, right? Like live a goddamn day in my cup size before you talk to me about this shit again.