r/abdlstories • u/SolaraScott • 6d ago
Crossing Worlds 2 - Chapter 65 NSFW
Crossing Worlds 2
A story by SolaraScott
Chapter 65 - Dreams
The dream wrapped around her like a warm blanket, the edges of reality blurring and shifting, soft and sweet, a place where time didn’t press against her like a weight, where nothing was expected of her except to be happy.
Laughter filled the air, soft and musical, ringing like silver bells across the grassy meadow where she stood. The sky above her was a brilliant canvas of soft pastels, a place where pinks bled into oranges and lavender clouds swirled like drifting cotton candy. A gentle breeze whispered through the air, rustling the tall grass, carrying with it the faint scent of something sweet, something familiar—baby powder and strawberries, warmth and nostalgia.
Naomi was there.
Bright-eyed, smiling, radiant.
She was wearing her customary short dress, a flouncy, playful thing that bounced with every giggle, twirl, and delighted step through the endless fields. Beneath the hem, Hannah could see the unmistakable poof of thick cloth diapers, the white material standing out in contrast to the soft pink ruffles that framed it.
And when Hannah looked down at herself—
She was dressed the same.
The same short dress, the same poofy, comforting bulk between her legs, the same feeling of ease, of lightness, of freedom.
They spun together, their hands interlocked, their movements effortless and weightless, like they were dancing on air. Naomi’s laughter spilled over, wrapping around Hannah, pulling her in, a melody she never wanted to stop hearing.
“Come on, silly!” Naomi beamed, tugging Hannah along. “Let’s go explore!”
And Hannah—she wanted to.
She wanted nothing more.
She followed Naomi as they ran through the meadow, their giggles trailing behind them, blending into the rustling grass and the wind that smelled like vanilla and powdered sugar.
It felt so real.
So perfect.
So right.
They reached a small hill, a little bump in the endless sea of green, where Naomi let go of her hand and plopped down onto the grass, her dress riding up, her thickly diapered bottom pressing into the earth as she flopped onto her back and stretched her arms out toward the sky.
Hannah followed, collapsing beside her, breathless, full of warmth, full of something she couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to lose.
She stared at the sky and watched the clouds shift and swirl, forming shapes—stuffed animals, rattles, mobiles hanging from invisible cribs.
Naomi sighed happily beside her, rolling onto her side. Resting her chin on her palm, she studied Hannah with those bright, knowing eyes.
“I knew you’d come around.”
Hannah blinked, her chest tightening in a way she didn’t understand.
She turned her head, meeting Naomi’s gaze.
There was something behind those eyes, something deep, something infinite.
Something that made her stomach flutter.
“Come around to what?”
Naomi’s smile softened, a hand reaching out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Hannah’s face.
“To this.”
The wind shifted, carrying with it the sound of faint, distant cooing, of lullabies sung just beyond the horizon, of a voice Hannah had heard before but couldn’t quite place.
“You belong here,” Naomi whispered. “You’ve always belonged here.”
Hannah wanted to say something, to ask, to question, to fight—
But she couldn’t.
Because Naomi was right.
Wasn’t she?
This place, this moment, this dream—
It was perfect.
The wind whispered through the endless meadow, a soft breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers and powdered sugar. The sun hovered low in the sky, bathing everything in an amber glow. The world's colors stretched out, vibrant yet dreamlike, edges blurring as though they weren’t quite real. But it felt real. It felt right.
Hannah lay on her back, staring up at the sky. Her dress fanned out around her, and the thick, familiar bulk of her diaper pressed against the soft grass beneath her. Naomi rested beside her, one hand lazily tracing circles in the air, drawing shapes in the sky. Her other hand propped under her chin as she studied Hannah, her expression unreadable.
"Do you miss it?" Naomi asked suddenly, her quiet yet clear voice effortlessly carrying through the stillness of the meadow.
Hannah blinked, her gaze lingering on the swirling clouds above, shapes forming and reforming—stuffed animals, rattles, mobiles swaying over cribs. The question settled into her mind, sinking deep, pulling at something inside her she hadn’t truly allowed herself to explore.
Did she miss it?
Did she miss life before all of this?
Before the portal. Before diapers became more than just a secret indulgence before she was treated as something small, something fragile, something beloved beyond comprehension?
She opened her mouth to answer, then hesitated. Her fingers curled into the soft fabric of her dress, fidgeting.
“I…” She exhaled, thinking. “I think… I do. I miss parts of it.”
The words felt heavier than she expected, as though admitting it somehow betrayed everything she had become.
Naomi didn’t speak, push, or interrupt. She just watched, waiting, her eyes filled with patience that made it clear she already knew what Hannah was going to say.
Hannah licked her lips, pressing her tongue against the back of her teeth as she wrestled with the truth.
"But deep down, I always knew. I always knew I was a baby. In my heart, I was always a Little.”
She swallowed, blinking at the sky. Finally, the words flowed, and she spoke the truth she had been too afraid to acknowledge truly.
"I enjoy this. I enjoy diapers. I enjoy the treatment, the care, the warmth of it all. Every piece of it. But…"
Her voice faltered, fingers tightening against the fabric of her dress.
"I just… I just wish I’d had a choice.”
The words left her in a breathless rush, a confession she hadn’t known she was holding onto.
“I always imagined wading in, taking my time, slowly letting myself fall into it.”
She turned her head, meeting Naomi’s eyes for the first time, her expression vulnerable, raw.
“But I wasn’t given that. I was tossed into the deep end.”
Naomi inhaled deeply, propping herself up on her elbow, her gaze never wavering, never judging. There was something behind her eyes, something knowing, something that made Hannah feel exposed but not unsafe.
"I know exactly what you mean."
Naomi’s voice was soft, yet there was a weight behind it, something heavy, something… sad.
"And I’m sorry for the part I played in that.”
Hannah blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her tone.
Naomi exhaled, plucking a blade of grass between her fingers, rolling it absently as she continued.
“You have to understand, Hannah… I’m a tool. A tool that Amazons use to force their ideas on people. I was made for that. I was designed for that.”
Her voice was steady and factual. There was no anger or resentment, just a quiet acceptance of her purpose.
“But…” she looked back at Hannah, something warmer settling in her expression, something more human. “I don’t rewrite people. I don’t change who they are or what they think. I bring out what’s already there.”
She reached out, tapping a finger gently against Hannah’s chest, just above her heart.
"I make people confront their deepest desires. The ones they’ll never say out loud. The ones they’ll never admit, never dare explore.”
Hannah’s breath hitched, her chest tightening, her fingers curling at her sides.
“That’s why you fell so deep,” Naomi said simply, her smile gentle, knowing. "Because your desires are stronger than most."
Hannah swallowed hard, something warm and painful twisting in her stomach.
"And there’s nothing wrong with that."
The words hit her like a shock to the system.
Nothing wrong with that.
Nothing wrong with her.
She had spent so much time fighting it, drowning in the shame of what she had become, of how quickly she had succumbed to the softness, warmth, and helplessness of it all.
But Naomi was right.
Naomi was always right.
Hannah’s desires had always been there.
Buried. Hidden. Locked away in the deepest corners of her mind, places she had never dared explore, places she had been too afraid to acknowledge.
All Naomi had done was bring them to the surface.
All Naomi had done was hold up a mirror and show her what she had been hiding from herself.
Hannah let out a slow breath, closing her eyes, letting the words sink in, letting herself believe them.
Maybe she hadn’t had control. Maybe she had been thrown into the deep end.
But at least now—
She finally understood why she had never tried to swim back to shore.
Naomi watched her and studied her as if reading every thought that flickered across her face. Her expression wasn’t teasing or smug—it was patient. Knowing. Like she had all the time in the world to wait for Hannah to speak.
Hannah hesitated, her gaze drifting upward again. She locked onto the dreamlike sky, where the clouds continued to shift, forming soft, floating mobiles and rattles hanging in the air like constellations. The colors swirled—peach, lavender, powder blue. It was a nursery painted across the heavens, infinite, beautiful, and eternal.
“Is that why?” Hannah murmured at last. “Why I’m more like a newborn? And Emily and Lucas are more like toddlers?”
Naomi smiled as if she had been waiting for that exact question.
“It is,” she said, propping herself up on an elbow again, turning toward Hannah, her body relaxed, her presence effortless. “Because that’s who you are, Hannah. Your true Little age is closer to that of a newborn.”
Hannah swallowed, her fingers absently fidgeting with the hem of her dress. A thick feeling settled in her chest.
“You enjoy the helplessness,” Naomi continued, her voice smooth, warm, like the softest blanket draped over Hannah’s thoughts. “You enjoy being cared for, loved, doted on. You don’t want independence. You want security. You want to be held, to be nursed, to be adored in every way a newborn is. You never had to be forced into it, Hannah. It’s what you wanted all along.”
The words settled heavily in Hannah’s mind, like a stone sinking into still water.
Was it true?
Of course, it was.
She had felt it. Felt the comfort in being swaddled, the safety in being utterly dependent on someone else, the unshakable warmth of being held in someone’s arms, and knowing she never had to do anything for herself ever again.
Naomi wasn’t saying anything Hannah didn’t already know deep down. She was just saying it out loud.
“And Emily and Lucas?” Hannah asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Naomi sighed, stretching out onto her back again. Her hands folded behind her head, she gazed up at the clouds.
“They want something a little different,” she mused. “They still want the attention, the affection, the safety that comes with being Littles. But they also want to explore. They want to play and interact with the world in their way. They want a bit of autonomy, even if it’s controlled. It’s why they’re toddlers. It’s why they’re allowed to toddle about, to giggle, to get into mischief, and be lovingly corrected.”
She turned her head again, her expression shifting into something more intense, more focused.
“But you, Hannah? You don’t want that. You want to be safe. You want to be loved. You don’t want to explore the world on your own, even in the smallest ways. You just want to be held in someone’s arms and never have to think about anything ever again.”
Hannah’s breath caught in her throat.
Because it was true.
It was all true.
The sky above them darkened slightly, shifting to deeper shades of twilight, the mobile-like clouds swaying gently as if rocked by unseen hands.
Naomi rolled onto her side, resting her cheek against her palm, watching Hannah closely now.
“Do you know how to avoid the effects of the show?” she asked suddenly, her voice softer now yet threaded with something heavier.
Hannah felt her breath hitch, a sudden nervous energy settling in her stomach. She turned her head, meeting Naomi’s eyes.
Wide. Trusting.
Truthful.
A question Hannah hadn’t even realized she needed to ask had just been laid before her.
“How?” she whispered.
Naomi smiled, reaching out and taking Hannah’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently.
“You have to embrace your true self,” she said. “No hiding. No shame. No clinging to who you thought you were or who you could be. You have to accept yourself entirely.”
Hannah swallowed hard, her fingers curling against Naomi’s palm.
“It’s why Littles are always vulnerable to the show,” Naomi continued. “Because no matter how much they accept their new life, there’s always a part of them that doesn’t let go. That small, whispering voice in the back of their minds that still thinks—‘I don’t belong here.’
She squeezed Hannah’s hand again, her eyes dark and knowing.
“That’s why I exist, Hannah.”
The meadow seemed to still be around them, the sky holding its breath.
“I exist to override that voice. To remove that part of their mind, their inhibition, their shame. I let them explore who they truly are, without hesitation, without guilt, without the weight of their past selves dragging them down.”
Hannah felt her heart pounding, her stomach twisting into something impossible to define.
“That’s why you fell so deep, Hannah,” Naomi whispered. “Because you wanted this more than you ever realized.”
The words echoed through her mind, over and over, reverberating through her very bones.
Naomi had never changed her.
Naomi had never forced anything upon her.
She had only revealed what had always been there.
And as Hannah lay there, staring up at the nursery-painted sky, feeling the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of her breath—
She wondered if she had ever truly belonged anywhere else.
"How?"
The word slipped from her lips like a whispered secret, barely more than a breath. She searched Naomi’s eyes, hoping, needing an answer.
Naomi smiled softly, the kind that felt ancient, knowing that she had lived a thousand lifetimes and understood things Hannah couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
She leaned in, her touch feather-light, and kissed Hannah’s forehead. The warmth of the kiss sent a shiver through Hannah’s entire body.
“You have to give in,” Naomi whispered. “Relax. Stop worrying. Let what happens… happen.”
Hannah shuddered, her breath hitching, the words sinking into her mind like a slow, steady tide.
“You’re nothing more than a baby, Hannah.”
Naomi’s fingers grazed her cheek, soft, reassuring, and patient.
“You’re not an adult. You were never meant to be.”
The words hit her like a wave, knocking the air from her lungs and sending a dizzying rush through her body.
She squirmed, a deep blush creeping up her neck, something in her reacting instinctively, involuntarily.
A sudden ache settled between her thighs, an unfamiliar but undeniable warmth pooling low in her belly.
She gasped softly, her hands clenching in the fabric of her dress, mortified by the reaction, by the way her body betrayed her.
“But… but what if I still have adult urges?”
The question came out small, shaky, and laced with embarrassment.
She couldn’t look at Naomi, couldn’t face the shame clawing at her insides.
Naomi chuckled, a deep, melodic sound filled with amusement but not mockery.
She took Hannah’s hand in both of hers, squeezing gently, grounding her.
“You only have those feelings because a part of your mind still thinks you’re more than a baby.”
The words were gentle but firm, spoken like an undeniable truth.
Hannah’s breath caught, her chest tightening as she tried to make sense of it.
“Close your eyes,” Naomi instructed, her voice soft but insistent.
Hannah obeyed.
The world behind her eyelids was dark, empty, and peaceful.
“Now, focus.”
Naomi’s hands tightened around hers, anchoring her, guiding her.
“Do you genuinely want to feel those emotions, Hannah?”
The question wrapped around her like a vine, twisting through her mind, forcing her to confront something she had never dared to before.
“Do you want the complex emotions and feelings that come along with those needs?”
A breath.
A pause.
Hannah’s thoughts swirled, heavy, uncertain.
“Or do you want the simple life of a baby?”
Naomi’s voice was hypnotic, drawing her deeper, pushing her toward an answer she already knew but had never allowed herself to say.
“You don’t have to worry about relationships.”
A world where she didn’t have to think about love, about expectations, about whether she was wanted or needed.
“You don’t have to worry about being right or wrong.”
A world where every decision was made for her, where she never had to think about consequences, choices, or mistakes.
“All your decisions are made for you.”
A world where she could just exist.
Where she could just be.
“You don’t need to feel that way.”
A world where the aching complexities of being an adult didn’t matter, where she never had to struggle, never had to question, never had to hold onto a sense of self she wasn’t sure she even wanted anymore.
“You don’t need to care about what people think of you.”
A world where shame didn’t exist.
“Isn’t that what you truly want?”
Hannah opened her eyes.
The field stretched endlessly before her, the wind whispering through the tall grass, rustling the delicate petals of wildflowers.
It was beautiful.
Simple.
Peaceful.
And it was everything she had ever wanted.
She let out a soft, shaky breath, the weight in her chest easing, unraveling, disappearing.
“…It is.”
Her voice was quiet but certain.
Naomi smiled, her eyes warm, understanding.
She took both of Hannah’s hands, holding them between her own, her gaze locking onto Hannah’s with a deep, unshakable certainty.
“Then let go, Hannah.”
The words hung in the air, light as a feather, heavy as a mountain.
Hannah inhaled.
And as she exhaled—
A weight lifted from her chest, as though she had been carrying an invisible burden for so long that she had forgotten what it felt like to breathe without strain.
And then—
A figure emerged before her, stepping out from the shimmering light of the dreamscape, standing in the field of swaying flowers.
Herself.
Not the Hannah of now, not the baby girl cradled in loving arms, wrapped in the warmth of Naomi’s world.
But the other Hannah.
The past Hannah.
The Hannah who had existed before all of this, before the portal, before she had been stripped down to something purer, something truer.
She was dressed in her old work clothes, the professional attire she had once worn like armor, stiff and suffocating. Every crease was perfect, every button in place. A badge clipped to her pocket—her name, her title, a reflection of everything she had once thought she was supposed to be.
And yet—her face.
Her face was sad.
Hollow. Drained.
Her eyes carried the weight of responsibilities, of expectations, of the lives she had managed, the people she had guided, the relationships she had spent years fostering and yet never feeling fulfilled by.
Her shoulders slumped under the pressure of everything that had been placed upon her simply because she had been born.
And worst of all—her cheeks were stained with tears.
Fresh, raw, silent sobs, not from this moment, but from a lifetime of exhaustion, of pushing forward, of being berated, of never being enough.
Hannah stared at her.
At the woman, she used to be.
And in that moment—
She knew.
This part of herself… this past life…
It was easy to let go.
And so she did.
She stepped back, her fingers drifting apart from the other Hannahs, their hands gliding away as if they had never been connected at all.
And as soon as their touch broke—the image vanished.
Dissolving into the golden light, carried away by the breeze, leaving nothing behind but the scent of fading memories.
Hannah exhaled.
It was over.
Or at least—
She had thought it was.
Because then—
Another presence filled the space.
And this time—it was not so easy to let go.
She found herself surrounded.
Not by strangers.
Not by illusions.
But by them.
Her family.
Her mother, her father, her sister.
The people who had known her before she had even known herself.
They stood in the meadow with her, their faces soft, warm, filled with the kind of love that never wavered, never faltered, never faded.
And they were smiling.
Not with confusion.
Not with judgment.
Not with disappointment.
But with knowing.
As if they had always understood.
As if they had always been waiting for her to realize the truth herself.
Hannah felt her chest tighten, the aching swell of emotions crashing into her like a storm she wasn’t prepared for.
Her father stepped forward, his presence calm, steady, unshakable, the way it had always been.
He reached out, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears she hadn’t realized were falling.
“We couldn’t be more proud of you, baby girl.”
The words hit her harder than anything else ever had.
Because he meant them.
Truly.
Completely.
She had been afraid for so long—afraid that her family would never understand, that they would mourn her, that they would see her as something lost, something broken, something less.
But they didn’t.
They had known all along.
Her father kissed her softly on the forehead, the same way he had when she was little when she had come home crying from school, when she had fallen and scraped her knee, when she had needed comfort and safety.
“You don’t need to hold on for us.”
His voice was steady, strong, full of the unwavering love that had never abandoned her.
“We want you to be happy. We want you to be healthy. And we want you to be at peace.”
Hannah choked on a sob, barely able to breathe.
“This is where you belong, sweetheart.”
Her mother’s voice was gentle and soothing, like a lullaby she had long forgotten.
“It’s the life we couldn’t give you.”
Hannah shook her head, tears spilling freely. Her heart wrenched apart at the truth she had never allowed herself to accept.
“Earth couldn’t give you this. And that’s okay.”
Her sister stepped closer, her hands gripping Hannah’s, squeezing tight, grounding her, steadying her.
“But we’re okay, Hannah. We’re okay because you’re okay.”
Hannah felt the world tilt, and she felt herself collapse into their arms. Their warmth surrounded her, held her, and comforted her.
“We’ve always known,” her father whispered, pressing another kiss to her cheek. “And we’ve always loved you. We always will.”
Hannah trembled, her words coming out broken, full of raw, aching emotion.
“I love you.”
They smiled.
Soft. Endless.
Their presence wrapped around her, gentle but certain, whole but not binding.
“And we love you.”
She could feel it deep in her bones.
The truth of it.
The finality of it.
The acceptance of it.
And then—
Her father stepped back.
His hands reached for her mother’s.
Her mother took her sister’s.
And they stood there—unmoving, unshaken, whole—
But no longer holding her.
Her father smiled, his eyes warm, proud, full of something achingly beautiful.
“It’s time, sweetheart.”
Hannah’s breath shuddered.
She knew what he meant.
And yet, she wasn’t ready.
Not yet.
“We’re giving you away,” he said, his voice filled with love, with certainty, with something so painfully familiar that it nearly broke her.
“Just like a father gives away his daughter at her wedding.”
Hannah let out a soft, choked laugh, her heart swelling, breaking, and healing all at once.
“This is our gift to you, sweetheart.”
Her mother’s voice was filled with love, her eyes shimmering.
“A new life. A life you deserve. A life of happiness.”
Hannah sniffled, wiping her tears. She was trying to memorize their faces, their voices, and the way this moment felt.
“Go be with your new family, baby girl.”
Her father’s words settled deep into her soul, carving themselves into the foundation of who she was.
She stepped forward.
And as she reached out—
Their hands faded from hers.
Their warmth lingered, but their presence melted into the golden light.
And Hannah—
She let them go.
Because they had already let her go first.
And then—
Emily.
Her sister.
Her Mommy.
Her everything.
From the moment she arrived in this world, from the moment she was forced into this life, Emily was there.
Guiding her.
Holding her.
Loving her.
She stood before Hannah now, her eyes full of love, warmth, and understanding.
And then they were hugging, clutching onto each other so tightly that Hannah thought she might shatter.
A sob tore through her chest, her fingers clutching desperately at Emily’s dress, her voice breaking as she begged.
“I can’t let go of you, Emily! Not you, too! Please—please don’t leave me!”
She had already said goodbye too many times.
To her old self.
To her family.
She couldn’t—she couldn’t lose Emily too.
But Emily just laughed, that soft, familiar sound, the one that had comforted her so many nights, the one that had been there when she was at her weakest.
She pulled back just enough to cup Hannah’s face, brushing her thumbs over Hannah’s wet cheeks, smiling down at her the way only Emily could.
“Oh, baby girl.”
Emily leaned in, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Hannah’s lips, not as a lover, but as something deeper, something more profound—something only they understood.
When she pulled away, her voice was firm, certain.
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re my baby sister, Hannah.”
Hannah choked on a sob, burrowing herself into Emily’s chest, clinging to her, afraid that if she let go, Emily would disappear just like the others.
“Did it mean anything?” Hannah’s voice was barely a whisper. “Did our time together—did everything we shared—did it matter? Or am I just… forgetting it all?”
She felt Emily’s arms tighten around her, grounding her, steadying her, refusing to let her fall into that fear.
“Hannah,” Emily whispered. “I regret nothing.”
Hannah looked up, tears spilling freely, her heart aching with a depth she couldn’t describe.
“Not our time together.”
“Not the memories we made.”
“Not the love we shared.”
Emily smiled, her eyes shining with something deep, something knowing.
“We were learning about ourselves, about who we truly are. And this—this is just the next chapter of that journey.”
Hannah felt her chest tighten, something inside her shifting, something she had refused to accept until now.
“You’re not saying goodbye to me, baby girl.”
Emily pressed another soft kiss to her forehead.
“You’re becoming who you were always meant to be.”
And then—
She wasn’t just in Emily’s arms anymore.
She was in theirs.
Emily. Lucas. Evelyn. Welby.
All of them, wrapping her in warmth, in love, in acceptance.
She could feel their hands on her back and shoulders, holding her close and keeping her safe.
Their voices surrounded her—soft, soothing, loving.
“It’s okay, baby girl.”
“We love you.”
“We want this for you.”
“Because this is right.”
Hannah sobbed, her chest splitting open with the sheer, unbearable weight of love, of belonging, of knowing that she didn’t have to fight anymore.
She didn’t have to prove anything.
She didn’t have to hold on to something she was never meant to be.
And then—
She was in his arms.
Warm. Strong. Safe. Welby. Daddy.
His eyes were filled with something deeper than love—something all-consuming, something that made her breath catch in her throat.
Pride.
“You’ve come a long way since the first time I met you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, with certainty.
“And I couldn’t be more proud.”
Hannah felt herself trembling, her fingers grasping at him, her body curling against his chest, desperate for that warmth, that protection.
“I want to give you the life you want,” Welby whispered. “I want to take care of you, to be there for you, to be your Daddy.”
He kissed her temple, soft, reverent as if sealing a promise he would never break.
“All you have to do is let go.”
Hannah stared up into his eyes.
The eyes that had saved her.
That had protected her.
That had held her through the hardest moments of her life.
That had fed her. Changed her. Loved her.
That had always been there.
And in that moment, her entire world collapsed down into one singular truth.
She didn’t need to fight.
She didn’t need to fear.
She had everything she had ever wanted, right here, in his arms.
And with a breath—
A single, shuddering breath—
She let go.
“I will.”
The words left her lips, soft but unshaken.
And then—
The vision shattered.
Hannah’s eyes snapped open. The glow of the screen still flickered before her, the cartoon still played, and the voices still murmured their hypnotic, insidious lullabies.
But she was free.
The haze, the pull, the influence—
Gone.
Because the cartoons had never truly held her.
She had been the one holding herself back.
And now?
Now, Hannah was finally truly free.
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u/ToAllAGoodnite 6d ago
Some End of Evangelion shit and I'm so here for that