#organic like you

[peggycatrerr]

today on the train home the guy next to me was on his phone and at one point i saw him go on tumblr and he just had like. a normie dash. like it was all photography. of nature and architecture. he was using tumblr the way a heterosexual landscaper for rich people might use instagram. i actually had to watch his screen for a few seconds to be sure it really was tumblr because i was so taken aback by the content he was viewing. this is why algorithmless websites are so beautiful btw because i genuinely didn't know that this side of tumblr even existed. he didn't even so much as scroll past any text posts.

EDIT: look i'm not going to turn off reblogs but i cannot stress enough that THIS WASN'T A HIPSTER BLOG DASH IT WASN'T AN AESTHETIC BLOG DASH IT WAS THE MOST WILDLY GENERIC COLLECTION OF IMAGES YOU HAVE EVER SEEN IN YOUR LIFE. I AM NOT EXAGGERATING OR BEING A QUIRKY FANDOM TUMBLRINA WHEN I SAY "NORMIE" I GENUINELY MEAN "SO NORMAL THAT IT CIRCLES AROUND TO WEIRD". CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME? HELLO?

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[bodyboxspain]

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🤍 Hidratación profunda y elasticidad.

🤍 Potente efecto antioxidante y regenerador antiedad.

🤍 Tonifica y reafirma la zona de la ojera.

🤍 Reduce las ojeras y bolsas del contorno de los ojos.

¡Es el magnífico contorno de ojos de OLAND! Uno de los productazos que puedes probar con la Bodybox Noviembre en formato venta 🎁

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[captainjonnitkessler]

Do you guys notice how when Shawn Fain, president of the United Auto Workers union, started planning a general strike, he did it by a) targeting his messaging towards unions with the ability to safely and effectively strike in large numbers, b) laid out a clear, actionable plan for those unions to follow (setting contracts to all expire at the same time, since many unions cannot strike while under contract), c) is using union contracts to set clear, actionable demands that can be met in order to gauge success and provide an end goal, and d) started organizing FOUR YEARS before the proposed strike date to give people the chance to plan accordingly, because it takes a really freaking long time to get tens of millions of people organized?

You notice how he didn't do it by slapping a message on Twitter saying 'hey nobody go to work on Monday, that'll really show 'em'?

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

got a worm nibbling my brain. can someone help me find a piece of obscure media?

webcomic/indie comic from the 2010s. basically a sci-fi short story about a young girl (with red hair?) who was being raised by scientists as part of an experiment. she receives a haircut/has her head shaved, in preparation for her annual brain scan/testing. it is revealed that while her body is human, her "brain" is artificial, made of computer implants throughout her skull and spine. at some point her biological mother (also a scientist on the same campus?) encounters her and is repulsed, viewing her as a machine who has murdered her daughter.

it was very poignant and it bruised my heart and i can NOT find it anywhere

[lotus-pear]

god i love skk sm i wish gay ppl were real :(

[ladybeug]

I drew the same comic twice because I didn't think the first one was funny enough. I don't know if the second comic is funnier though??

Here's both of them

Side by side because i couldn't decide which one to put first - knowing the punchline changes the experience?? pick your adventure. read either one first.

which ones funnier i honestly can't tell

[zvaigzdelasas]

I mean. I literally do???

[frodo-a-gogo]

Let us be brutally honest with ourselves and with eachother for a moment. If he weren't obese you motherfuckers would be capable of percieving evrart claires sexy sexy moral ambiguity and complex charms

[soft-cryptids]

Watchdog. 

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

is it gay to collect lots of lore on your new girlfriend, make it into a binder, and then hide it under your shared bed where she will absolutely never find it???

Vaggie: "Charlie? Uh, quick cleaning question."

Charlie: "Hmmmm yeah??"

Vaggie: "So I was looking under the bed-"

Charlie: "Under the b-" (LEAPS across the room) "-NO WAIT LEMME DO THA-"

Vaggie: "-and there's this binder, with my name on it."

Charlie: "AHH!!"

Vaggie: "In your handwriting?"

Charlie: "AAHHHH!!!!"

Vaggie: "It's about the size and thickness of a telephone book-"

Charlie: "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH....!!!!"

Vaggie: "Babe. Do I wanna know."

Charlie: "IT'S NOTHING CREEPY OR WEIRD I SWEAR!!!!!"

Vaggie: "... that honestly just makes it weirder. What's even left?"

Charlie: "Normal stuff! Just, normal everyday Vaggie-related observations! In alphabetical order. And. Cross filed by category and sub grouping, for quick reference."

Vaggie: "..."

Vaggie: "You've made a reference book on me."

Charlie: "Okay, now when you say it like THAT it sounds WEIRD!"

Vaggie: "Any, uh, particular reason you're doing this?"

Charlie: "My brain likes knowing things about you. I mean, I like knowing things about you."

Vaggie: "What... kinda things?"

Charlie: "Can I see the binder? Thanks." (pages through) "Ah-hem. Things Vaggie doesn't like! Not having wings, back pain, back pain from not having wings anymore, people being rude to me, not stabbing people who're being maybe a bit rude even though she really wants to, leaving her spear at home on dates so she doesn't stab people with it, stuff being messy even though she tries to hide how grumpy it makes her when I don't fold the towels up again, guitarists, swords, angels, any mention of heaven-"

Vaggie: (sweating) "H-how 'bout some examples from another category, sweetie?"

Charlie: "Right! Ummm- okay. Things Vaggie likes! High places! Backrubs- especially after she's slept wrong again because we cuddled the wrong way during the night oops- the way her hair looks now it's growing out long! Long gloves and thigh high stockings! Cleaning! Doing stuff together- like tidying up our room! Buying me binders so I can keep my notes together instead of stacking them piles in our room! Threatening people! Threatening people specifically with-"

Charlie: (growling) "Her. Spear."

Vaggie: "What?"

Charlie: "Nothing!" (goes back to smiling) "Holding hands!- with me. Snuggling!- with me. Kisses!- again specifically with me. Staring up at the light of heaven from high places-!"

Vaggie: "And you."

Charlie: "-and me! ...And me?"

Vaggie: "I like staring at you, too."

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "Can you- hold on just ONE moment I- I need to make a note and, for that I need a glitter pen..."

Vaggie: "You're writing all this down in glitter pen?"

Charlie: "I want it to be cute! Like you!!!"

Vaggie: "And I kinda wanna kiss you."

Charlie: "You- because of the, weird non-creepy binder thing??"

Vaggie: "Yep."

Charlie: "....Noted!!!" (snaps binder SHUT) "I can totally make the actual notes later though, you know, if you want to do the kissing thing right now inste- Mmf!"

[bodyboxspain]

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El secreto está en su fórmula única con el 95% de ingredientes antiedad, orgánicos y certificados, de alta compatibilidad con la piel 🌱

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Potentes activos orgánicos y antiedad

Este magnífico contorno de ojos posee Ácido Hialurónico, que ayuda a optimizar la barrera de humedad de la piel y ofrecer una verdadera hidratación para mejorar la elasticidad. Además, le proporciona a tu piel una mayor firmeza y elasticidad para obtener una mirada más joven.

Contiene una concentración máxima de Hidrolizado de Raíz de Maca Orgánica con propiedades similares al Retinol, promueve la reconstrucción de colágeno y minimiza claramente las arrugas y las líneas de expresión.

Reduce las ojeras y bolsas gracias al Extracto Orgánico de Chlorella, ya que, posee alto contenido de nutrientes esenciales, entre los que se encuentra la Vitamina C, Vitaminas B, Biotina, etc,. Obtenido de algas verdes, para una piel sorprendentemente lisa y fresca.

Contiene Extracto Orgánico de Flor de Magnolia, contiene compuestos antioxidantes que ayudan a retrasar el envejecimiento, además contiene altos niveles de magnolol y honokiol: dos compuestos orgánicos de los que se dice que son hasta 1000 veces más ricos en antioxidantes que la vitamina E, por lo que ejerce una poderosa protección sobre la piel.

Formulado con Manteca Orgánica de Cacao rico en antioxidantes y polifenoles que ayudan a reparar el ADN y a proteger del foto envejecimiento

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Además, en OLAND utilizan Agua de Limón Orgánica. Una pura y valiosa fuente de agua, también conocida como hidrolatos, que circulan por el interior de las plantas. Esta agua pura, natural mente equilibrada y biocompatible, refinada por la propia planta le confiere adaptabilidad y afinidad ideal con la piel.

Bioafinidad perfecta con la piel

Su composición hecha a base de aceites esenciales, sales minerales y oligoelementos explica la bioafinidad perfecta con la piel, así como también han demostrado tener actividad biológica, que mejora la afinidad cutánea y potencia la eficacia de los ingredientes activos.

Principales beneficios del contorno de ojos de OLAND:

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Hidratación profunda y elasticidad.

Potente efecto antioxidante y regenerador antiedad.

Tonifica y reafirma la zona de la ojera.

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[dovewingkinnie]

i gift you a kiss funny creature

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 171

Danny would like everyone to know it was a complete accident. Look, normally he was really good at not altering the timeline! He was! 

But the dude was definitely not in the right Time, and he had to get his trust which took so long, like damn he thought he had anxiety. Seriously though, kevlar in the 1700s? Yeah that wasn’t right, and Peepaw always complained about the messes that the speedsters caused, so he was trying to prevent a mess by tugging the dude away and helping him out. 

Falling in love maybe a little, was not in the plan. But honestly the man had a worse sense of self preservation than he did as a teen and was also straight up adorable, in a wet cat  who could kill you sort of way. 

So maybe he helped the dude grab a child that was going to be drowned. It wasn’t like anyone else saw them! Even if similar situations might’ve happened a few different times. 

Still, no one saw them! 

So why is there now a small cult who worships the Shadowed one and Radiant one, aka his companion (who would not give his name save for B, which, fair, probably didn’t want to accidentally wreck the timeline either) and well, him?! At least they worship them as guardians of children, but uh. Should he maybe, perhaps, fix this…? 

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

*tries to organize my thoughts*

*remembers i'm not in school and therefore beholden to neither heaven nor hell nor any man's grading system*

*joyously shredding & tossing all my carefully arranged 3x5 mental notecards into the air like so much beige confetti. raising my arms in victory, cheering raucously until i accidentally inhale bits of homemade confetti*

(*coughing up itty bits of paper like a cat evicting a hairball with a firm understanding of tenants' rights*) wait wat happens next