#and boundaries and barbed wire and

[bemusedrodent]

is there really even real nature anymore?

sure, there are woods, and parks, and massive wild places. sure there are fields. it’s all owned, state or otherwise.

i wish i could live in a time where i could walk through boundless meadows, enter random copses that aren’t only there because nobody’s cut them down yet. i wish i could live in a time where you could stumble across ruins and small villages and paths but not have to follow a path to get there.

everything now? directions, roads, open hours, PRIVATE signs. like, you can own land? you think you can just look at this big wide stretch of ecosystems and nature and beauty and peace, and pay someone with metals extracted from the earth itself to say ‘this is mine now. nobody else is allowed on this particular patch of earth’, and proceed to destroy all those ecosystems and habitats, and plant swathes of one crop, or rip up the earth to replace with concrete, and more people, and suffering.

who would want this?

why do we need to prioritise a few material benefits?

why can’t we just walk on the earth? why can’t everything just be?

[sadiewayne]

you are allowed an opinion about media and you are allowed to be excited about it online and shouldn't be criticised for it

[aeide-thea]

anyway totally apropos of nothing i'm just thinking abt like. i really hate DNIs that are—i mean, i could've stopped there, i really hate DNIs period, i think they're performative and useless and naive, but. i really hate DNIs that use identity as a shorthand for the (mis)behavior the poster expects from people of that identity

like there's a Respected Butch Blogger on here who years ago posted something about a man at a bus stop, idk, attempting to strike up a conversation/hit on her*, something in that line, and made some comment to the effect of like, look at me, i'm obviously a butch dyke, he should've known i wasn't available to him! and i thought at the time, and still think now—the problem here was the creepiness/entitlement of this man's behavior! nobody should be chatting anyone up at a bus stop or grocery store (real example from a past stage of my own life 😞) or other practical public venue where like‚ they're just trying to do their thing and get home! but framing the problem as instead being about, essentially, an IRL failure to respect an implicit DNI, as though someone who presented differently would've been fair game for predatory treatment—i hated that then and i hate it now

[ultimately of course it's like. people sometimes frame things in shitty ways on their perblogs when they're upset and it's good to cut them a little slack abt that... but also like. in venting veritas]

and i just like. this is a disconnected patchy sort of post but you just see people going up these ladders that are like 'i assume Men are looking at me and having Gross Disrespectful Fantasies abt me in their heads and so i don't even want them clicking a silent heart on my posts'

and ultimately everyone's entitled to set whatever boundaries they like! but it just feels to me like. tbh you're spooling out a whole Gross Fantasy of yr own abt Men when like. instead you could just set a boundary about what kinds of comments are welcome. and even from whom! but like. why are we collapsing Man into Person Who's Inevitably Gonna Behave Invasively and Disrespectfully. like when the traditional model of masculinity also says that but with an accompanying smirky thumbs-up, and then you're saying that with a thumbs-down... idk. just like. where's the vision of a better world. bc like. i thought that was actually what we were trying to open the door for, personally!

ultimately i guess it's just like, our approaches are not compatible and i shd be grateful 2 their DNIs for making that clear to me, but. i really don't see how the master's tools (framing identity as shorthand for/inevitable predictor of undesirable behavior) ever dismantle the master's house (kyriarchy)

[hershelwidget]

dhmis fandom I have an important announcement

I’m so fucking sorry

[soon-palestine]

"I’m personally a Holocaust survivor as an infant, I barely survived.

My grandparents were killed in Aushwitz and most of my extended family were killed.

I became a Zionist; this dream of the Jewish people resurrected in their historical homeland and the barbed wire of Aushwitz being replaced by the boundaries of a Jewish state with a powerful army…and then I found out that it wasn’t exactly like that, that in order to make this Jewish dream a reality we had to visit a nightmare on the local population.

There’s no way you could have ever created a Jewish state without oppressing and expelling the local population. Jewish Israeli historians have shown without a doubt that the expulsion of Palestinians was persistent, pervasive, cruel, murderous and with deliberate intent - that’s what’s called the 'Nakba' in Arabic; the 'disaster' or the 'catastrophe'.

There’s a law that you cannot deny the Holocaust, but in Israel you’re not allowed to mention the Nakba, even though it’s at the very basis of the foundation of Israel.

I visited the Occupied Territories (West Bank) during the first intifada. I cried every day for two weeks at what I saw; the brutality of the occupation, the petty harassment, the murderousness of it, the cutting down of Palestinian olive groves, the denial of water rights, the humiliations...and this went on, and now it’s much worse than it was then. It’s the longest ethnic cleansing operation in the 20th and 21st century.

I could land in Tel Aviv tomorrow and demand citizenship but my Palestinian friend in Vancouver, who was born in Jerusalem, can’t even visit! So then you have these miserable people packed into this, horrible…people call it an 'outdoor prison', which is what it is. You don’t have to support Hamas policies to stand up for Palestinian rights, that’s a complete falsity.

You think the worse thing you can say about Hamas, multiply it by a thousand times, and it still will not meet the Israeli repression and killing and dispossession of Palestinians.

And 'anybody who criticises Israel is an anti-Semite' is simply an egregious attempt to intimidate good non-Jews who are willing to stand up for what is true."

[palmettoshenanigans]

Listen, you know why Andrew loves Neil? Why Neil Abram Josten was the one Andrew would allow into his inner space, to allow growing roots where Andrew keeps the remaining fragments of his heart?

Because hardly anyone respects Andrew's boundaries. Renee does. Bee does. Wymack does. Andrew respects his own boundaries to the point of enforcing them at knife point.

But Neil? Neil Abram Josten?

He views Andrew's boundaries as sacred.

Renee, Bee, and Wymack would view crossing Andrew's boundaries as disrespectful at best and a violation at worst. They earned his trust that way.

But NEIL???

Neil views crossing Andrew's boundaries as a fucking sin. As blasphemous. A devoted disciple would sooner spit in their God's face than Neil ever conceiving of crossing Andrew's boundaries.

Some people would look at you erecting brick walls covered in barbed wire and would start looking for a good crack to aim a sledgehammer. Some people would watch you lock a door and try knocking, just once, to see if you'll open it for them. And some people would watch you draw a line in the sand and never dream of stepping over it.

Neil parked his ass on the other side of Andrew's barbed wired multi-layered brick wall surrounding his concrete bunker and stayed there, running his mouth. And when Andrew revealed the hidden door, Neil smiled, stayed put, and kept talking.

Andrew didn't fall for Neil because Neil wouldn't come in.

He fell because Neil waited for Andrew to come out, waited for Andrew to extend his hand, and waited for Andrew to lead him inside by his own volition.

And that's why Neil was the one who earned Andrew's "Stay".

[sugucidal]

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER i. [3k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: with winter break having rolled around the corner, you’ve decided to spend it with your family back at home. it felt nice being back after 2 years away at university. you just wish your mom had told you that a certain guest was visiting. one that you hadn’t expected to ever have to face again.

୨୧‬┊warnings: fluff! + age gap (reader is 19 and toji is 34) + taboo content (cause what’re u doin tryna get tojis middle aged ass in ur bed smh) + slice of life kind of (??) + suggestiveness + humor + reader is in her winter bimbo era + toji is…toji. + no smut yet sorryy + slight slowburn + everything is legal! no ones going to jail!

୨୧‬┊a/n: first chapter woohooo !!! second chapter will finally be coming out on [redacted] <3

‪MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part iii.

Tugging at the sleeves of your jacket further down your hands, you let out an exhale, nerves set ablaze. The typical cool spring air was colder than usual this particular night out, sun having already set and moon shining up into the dark, starry sky.

Fiddling with the hem of your mini skirt, you gazed up, doe eyes glinting heatedly up at the man you've harbored adoration towards.

You were finally gonna confess.

"I want you."

The simple words that held so much weight filled the space between you both.

A sigh in response. Oh no. You already knew what was coming, but you hoped to any deity or god from above that it wouldn't turn out this way.

"Kid, you're way too young for me." The smoke blowing past his lips wafted through the stiff air, his scar pulling at the corner of his mouth in dismay. "If you were older maybe I'd consider it. Wouldn't bet on it though, since you're such a pain in the ass to deal with."

You let his words hang momentarily, trying to come up with a sufficient rebuttal. You knew he was only playing when he said you were a pain to deal with but it still stung your heart to hear it coming from him. But you weren't gonna give up that easily. You've had a crush on this man ever since he moved into the neighborhood years ago!

What started out as innocent puppy love slowly built its way into this desire, stemmed deep at the heart the older you got. You'd watch as he invited women into his home late into the hours of the night, clinging onto him like a leech in a body of lakewater. God, how you wish it was you he'd have brought into his home on those late nights. Lustfully gazing down at you with promises of this being the best you'll ever have, one you'd be thinking back on until the day you die.

He knew exactly just how much you craved for his touch. It wasn't hard to see that he felt the same, you could see it in the way he'd glance in your direction whenever you purposely wore something revealing, hoping to catch his eye. He told you that you shouldn't wear things like that at your age around men, that they were dangerous, intentions impure. As if he wasn't one of those men he was warning you about. But despite it all, he always looked the other way. Kept a boundary of barbed wire up, no way of climbing through. Frankly, it was annoying.

You hate when people play hard to get.

"So...you mean once I'm 18, you'll take up my offer?" If he couldn't get with you because you were 'too young' then surely he'd concede if you were legally an adult...right?

"Not exactly what I said, but sure," Taking one last final drag of his cigar, he stomped it out onto the pavement, sharp eyes gazing at you discerningly one last time before turning the other way.

"Whatever gets you off my case."

That was the last time you spoke with Toji and almost 2 years have gone by since then. The rejection after the confession hurt no doubt, but the avoidance of Toji towards you afterwards, hurt like salt to a fresh wound.

You rarely saw him after that, suddenly out for weeks to months at a time for work. Sometimes he'd come by when he was free and have idle chats with your parents any time they saw him down the neighborhood. Not bothering to spare a polite greeting or glance in your direction whenever you were present. What used to be a strong bond between family friend and their doting daughter, having met him at an early age, quickly turned awkward and tense, distance overtaking whatever there once was.

You regret talking to him that night every single day.

Unfortunately, you couldn't bring back the past and fix your fuck up. On the other hand, the days of being immature and bratty were long gone. Having been replaced by someone more mature and less dense.

Living off pre-packaged noodles and staying up till 6 am finishing up assignments for your university classes due the next hour, does that to a person you suppose.

Now with winter break finally having rolled around the corner, you were able to get that good night's sleep your exhausted ass had been craving for. And the home cooked meals your mother had waiting for you was certainly appreciated as well.

Lugging your bags up the front steps to your parents' quaint home, you took a quick look at the classic 'welcome home' mat under your feet that you were sure still hid a key underneath. Lifting the corner of the mat your suspicions were confirmed.

You'd think they'd realize how unsafe this could be one of these days.

Before you could place the key through the silver lock, you were instead met with the distinct sound of hard, oak wood doors being unlocked and swung open.

"Baby, you're finally home! Get in quickly, come on now." Your mother hastily ushered you in, calling over your father to help carry your bags further inside the warmth of your home. The key you held was quickly dropped on the small table near the entrance, and the door kicked shut. The signature smell of a vanilla sugar cookie candle being burnt filled your nostrils, the rest wafting through the air. Anyone would think your family baked with the way they always seem to choose that particular scent regardless of season or weather. Further glancing around, you watched your family's pet cat prance towards you, its furry face wide eyed and complaining to be held. You swear he acted like a dog sometimes.

Guess some things never change.

You just hoped that would've stayed true for a certain someone.

Before you had any more time to dwell on it, you were taken out of your thoughts by the mention of the name you had barely begun to ponder over.

'Speak of the devil', you sighed.

Walking over to the living area, you followed your father picking up your cat on the way, butting in, "Hm? what was that?"

"You remember Toji right?" Nodding your head, your father continued. "We invited him over for dinner tonight."

You paused in your step. "What? Why?" The confusion in your voice was surely noticed. You couldn't exactly say you were unhappy, hell you felt giddy at just the mention of his name, but you were still hung up on the past and weren't ready to face the man that blew off your poor naive, little heart. If you saw his handsome face in person again that's been embarrassingly haunting your dazed mind whenever you're busy writhing and whining atop your soft, cozy sheets—at that dinner table, you might just take the 2 hour car ride back to campus dorms.

You were just a pussy like that. One that couldn't face the culprit of those lingering feelings that had never ceased to falter throughout the years, dead in the eye.

The two quietly glanced at each other at your sudden change in demeanor, eyebrows raised. Before he could continue your mom piped up first, "What do you mean by 'why'? You haven't seen each other in so long. He misses you and I'm sure you two would like to catch up."

"Misses you" You swear your heart might've actually stopped beating. In what world would Toji Fushiguro have missed their friends young daughter after being told straight to their face that they wanted him to fuck her.

"He..misses me?" It sounded a little unbelievable saying it outloud.

"Mhm, after you left for University he asked about you a couple times, wondering when you'd be back to visit," Turning around to walk into the kitchen to get started on dinner, she smiled over her shoulder at you once more, "You must've really left an impression on him."

Nervously laughing you settled your cat down, watching him stride over to sip some water from his bowl.

"Yeah..quite some impression alright."

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Okay. Okay it's fine. Yeah you haven't seen him in years but it's fine! He's just coming over for dinner. You'll greet him with a friendly smile, he'll ask how you've been- or shit, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll just ignore you again like he's already done. Toji mentioning to your parents that he misses you was probably just a misunderstanding and he meant to say the weather has been misty- yeah. Totally plausible.

"What the hell am I doing.." Taking a once-over to look yourself in the mirror, you just finished applying the finishing touches to your makeup, wiping off any excess gloss at the corner of your lips with a q-tip for a sharp finish. Was the gloss necessary given the fact that it was going to be smudged off during dinner anyway?

The answer was yes. Yes It was.

Just because you were having a small dinner that was probably gonna be awkward as hell with a man you've been wanting- didn't want to see, shouldn't mean you couldn't at least look cute.

A sudden faint sound of muffled talking took you out your inner monologue. Putting away your array of makeup displayed on the varnished wood countertop of your vanity, you walked over to the door pressing an ear against it trying to discern what was being said.

'Hm sounds like there's someone else down there..' quietly poking a head out into the hallway you just barely made out a deep yet familiar voice before quickly being startled by your mother calling out your name.

"Hon, come down and greet Toji!"

Fuck. "C–Coming!" straightening up, you calmed your blazing nerves, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of awkward tension that your parents luckily knew nothing of. Bless their complete oblivion.

Walking out into the hallway and down the stairs your eyes immediately locked onto Tojis, gaze shyly looking away and focusing onto nothing in particular. You were better off staring at something near him than at him directly.

Approaching towards where they stood, you tried your best to look as confident as possible. You're a woman now. Not some doe. At least that's what you feel like telling yourself at this moment, as you pick at your nails. Standing straighter, you stood next to your parents, watching as they finished up their talk.

You haven't had a proper conversation with Toji since, well...that night. Not counting the usual greetings you had exchanged with him in the past when you saw each other after. If you could even call it that. If a glance of bare acknowledgement was considered a greeting, then sure. Yet here you were right in front of him, determined to set things right. You had to confront him, it was the only way you'd be able to heal the wound of the past and maybe, even let go.

But first, you'll have to actually talk to him.

Deciding to finally look up at Toji, you were able to make out his features more clearly. He hadn't changed much since you last saw him, still very much tall, and his ever so brooding presence never waned. His jaw was somehow even more defined than before, and he was still rocking the same haircut as he always did.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it I guess.

Overall, he looked good. Better. The best. As he most likely always will be in your eyes.

And you're so lost in your own thoughts that you don't even notice Toji looking down at you in the corner of his eye, trying to hold back a smirk that's beginning to creep up. Silly you, ogling him so openly in front of your own parents. Not like they bothered to ever notice though.

Hearing the three of them laugh about something pulled you away from your stupor, and your attention was immediately latched onto Toji who was the first to speak.

Hopefully he didn't notice you being a creep.

"It's been a while, huh? You still remember me?" You know he's only teasing by asking if you still "remembered" him. The old you would've sassed him up for asking something silly like that, but you don't know if its a good idea to get ahead of yourself and start pulling on his leg this early on.

So you opt for the safest response.

With a polite smile on your lips, you shrugged your shoulders, "Of course. It hasn't been that long."

Toji stared at you for a moment. Shit. Did he not like that answer..?

Then you felt something warm come into contact with the top of your head; it was Toji's hand. Toji was petting you. Or more like ruffling your hair—same difference.

"You barely changed."

You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding. A moment longer in silence and you don't think you'd be able to hold back the urge to run back up those stairs, slam the door shut behind you, and scream into your pillow.

Why were you so nervous!? You're never nervous when it comes to Toji.

'What's up with me??''

Regardless, you felt yourself being left annoyed at his comment. Disappointed that he probably still saw you as some kid despite not certainly looking or being one at all for that matter.

Too bad you didn't realize he meant it in a different way.

Even if you tried to hide it, Toji could still make out the way you held your hands behind your back, most likely fidgeting with your nails. Seems you've changed, the thought amusing him. The old you he knew would've pounced on him by now, batting your lashes, staring up starry eyed thinking you were being discreet about it.

Nothing gets past him, especially not when you make it so obvious. One thing that hasn't changed though, are the clothes you seemed to purposely wear around him, and him only.

The moment he saw you walk down those stairs, he knew you had him wrapped around your finger all over again. The too short skirt and see-through slip on you adorned leaving almost nothing to the imagination, if not for the cream colored cardigan you wore hiding the slivers of skin, leaving him wanting more of what was underneath.

'What a damn tease..' But Tojis eyes averted by the time your parents noticed your descend towards them. He didn't exactly want them seeing him ogle their daughter so openly.

Before any one of you could say anything more, your mother cut the greetings short. "Great, now that we're all finished reuniting again, let's start eating before the food gets cold."

Walking a little ways behind you, Toji catched the way your hips swayed as you walked. Whether you were doing it intentionally or not, he couldn't say for sure.

But one thing he was sure about, is that you were going to give him one hell of a hard time.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

The rest of dinner went by quickly. Once you were all seated, your parents and Toji had no problem talking with each other. They were busy discussing something, but your mind was too occupied to actually listen in on what they were saying. Too busy playing around with the food on your plate as your mind ran aimlessly, and foot twitching anxiously.

The night could've been worse. Really, it could've. Sure you haven't made any progress yet, but you'll get there! Overall, nothing particular happened. Except for one thing.

Toji couldn't stop looking at you.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Before you knew it, dinner had come to an end. Toji had already taken his leave and bid you all a 'thanks for the meal' and a goodbye. Finally. Now you can slip away to your room, wipe off your makeup, and lay awake in your bed as you regret everything you could've said and done tonight but didn't without anyone noticing–

"Where do you think you're going?" There stood your mom, looking at you expectantly. Were you missing something?

"To my room, why?"

"Didn't you hear at dinner?"

'Was I supposed to hear something at dinner?'

"No, hear what exactly?"

"Tomorrow, you're going out to buy some decorations for a party we're having."

A beat of silence. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as you wondered why the hell you would be having a party.

"Mom… I appreciate that you want to host a welcome back party for me, but there's really no need to." It's sweet that they missed you this much, but you weren't one for parties that were centered around you.

She laughed. "No, no, not a party for you. I know you don't like that kinda stuff,"

Oh. Nevermind then.

"Our annual winter get together. We do it every year with the rest of the neighborhood and we're the ones hosting this time. Have all those cup noodles gotten to your head and you suddenly forgot?" She shook her head in disappointment.

Low blow, mom.

"I didn't forget! I just...didn't know you'd be the ones doing it this year."

"If you were actually paying attention at dinner then you'd have heard."

"Sorry. So, tomorrow you want me to go out and buy decor right? Cool, I'll go after lunch."

Thinking that was the end of that, you began to trudge your way towards the staircase. Already almost at the top when your mother called out to you once more.

"Oh! and Toji's accompanying you."

Yup, definitely going to scream into your pillow tonight.

© SUGUCIDAL 2023 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[cock-holliday]

Source

ID: Tweet by Naila @BrownNaila quoting Dr. Gabor Maté: “I’m personally a Holocaust survivor as an infant, I barely survived. My grandparents were killed in Aushwitz and most of my extended family were killed. I became a Zionist; this dream of the Jewish people resurrected in their historical homeland and the barbed wire of Aushwitz being replaced by the boundaries of a Jewish state with a powerful army…and then I found out that it wasn’t exactly like that, that in order to make this Jewish dream a reality we had to visit a nightmare on the local population.

There’s no way you could have ever created a Jewish state without oppressing and expelling the local population. Jewish Israeli historians have shown without a doubt that the expulsion of Palestinians was persistent, pervasive, cruel, murderous and with deliberate intent - that’s what’s called the 'Nakba' in Arabic; the 'disaster' or the 'catastrophe'. There’s a law that you cannot deny the Holocaust, but in Israel you’re not allowed to mention the Nakba, even though it’s at the very basis of the foundation of Israel.

I visited the Occupied Territories (West Bank) during the first intifada. I cried every day for two weeks at what I saw; the brutality of the occupation, the petty harassment, the murderousness of it, the cutting down of Palestinian olive groves, the denial of water rights, the humiliations...and this went on, and now it’s much worse than it was then.

It’s the longest ethnic cleansing operation in the 20th and 21st century. I could land in Tel Aviv tomorrow and demand citizenship but my Palestinian friend in Vancouver, who was born in Jerusalem, can’t even visit!

So then you have these miserable people packed into this, horrible…people call it an 'outdoor prison', which is what it is. You don’t have to support Hamas policies to stand up for Palestinian rights, that’s a complete falsity. You think the worse thing you can say about Hamas, multiply it by a thousand times, and it still will not meet the Israeli repression and killing and dispossession of Palestinians.

And 'anybody who criticises Israel is an anti-Semite' is simply an egregious attempt to intimidate good non-Jews who are willing to stand up for what is true." End ID.

[alwaysbewoke]

I’m personally a Holocaust survivor as an infant, I barely survived. My grandparents were killed in Aushwitz and most of my extended family were killed. I became a Zionist; this dream of the Jewish people resurrected in their historical homeland and the barbed wire of Aushwitz being replaced by the boundaries of a Jewish state with a powerful army…and then I found out that it wasn’t exactly like that, that in order to make this Jewish dream a reality we had to visit a nightmare on the local population. There’s no way you could have ever created a Jewish state without oppressing and expelling the local population. Jewish Israeli historians have shown without a doubt that the expulsion of Palestinians was persistent, pervasive, cruel, murderous and with deliberate intent - that’s what’s called the 'Nakba' in Arabic; the 'disaster' or the 'catastrophe'. There’s a law that you cannot deny the Holocaust, but in Israel you’re not allowed to mention the Nakba, even though it’s at the very basis of the foundation of Israel. I visited the Occupied Territories (West Bank) during the first intifada. I cried every day for two weeks at what I saw; the brutality of the occupation, the petty harassment, the murderousness of it, the cutting down of Palestinian olive groves, the denial of water rights, the humiliations...and this went on, and now it’s much worse than it was then. It’s the longest ethnic cleansing operation in the 20th and 21st century. I could land in Tel Aviv tomorrow and demand citizenship but my Palestinian friend in Vancouver, who was born in Jerusalem, can’t even visit! So then you have these miserable people packed into this, horrible…people call it an 'outdoor prison', which is what it is. You don’t have to support Hamas policies to stand up for Palestinian rights, that’s a complete falsity. You think the worse thing you can say about Hamas, multiply it by a thousand times, and it still will not meet the Israeli repression and killing and dispossession of Palestinians. And 'anybody who criticises Israel is an anti-Semite' is simply an egregious attempt to intimidate good non-Jews who are willing to stand up for what is true.

[ahoyimlosingmymind]

we can argue day and night whether or not Alden and Della were emotionally abusive, if the Vacker kid's lives really were perfect, if Fitz was just born with the coping mechanisms he has, or if they were created etc...

But here's the thing. When you take into consideration WHAT is valued in the lost cities, what is expected of imperfect people, all of the boundaries and barbed wire around what makes someone 'good'- nobody, and I mean NOBODY is coming out of that world emotionally unscathed.

Lord Cassius is not the only elf in the lost cities who cares about the status of himself and his children, and keeping up appearances. We know he has a warped view of his desire for Keefe to succeed being a form of love. We know how he has pathologized his self-absorbed need to keep his ego intact. He's a piece of shit. But part of the reason is that he values what his world has taught him to value. Prestige, sophistication, power etc...

There's a reason Mr. Forkle had to keep his twin a secret his whole life. A reason the Song Twins were rejected. Why Stina was raised to bite before assessing the danger. Because they were born 'imperfect' to their 'perfect' world's standards. They were born with the short stick. The scorn built in. There's a reason the school, Exullium, exists. For rejects, for people who don't meet the standard. Bad matches, being talentless etc... because their world rejects people who are 'chips' in the facade.

which means, that regardless of what you value, your world will punish you for anything that doesn't meet their quota. Sure, there's elves who choose their values over expectations (Dex's parents) but there's still a lifelong social punishment that comes with it.

Which means the threat of this punishment hangs over every elf's head. Which means that there are undoubtedly elves who adhere to values they don't agree with, solely out of fear of the consequences of choosing what they actually care about. This is their world. This is their lot in life.

And good luck trying to kill out this way of thinking and running the world, when elves live forever, and the people in power are the oldest elves in the world.

Now- imagine you're the Vacker's. You are the spitting image of what perfection is thought to be. You are renowned, watched- YOU ARE THE STANDARD. But even the Vacker's know they aren't perfect. Which means that regardless of how they feel about any of it, if they want to avoid scorn- they have to meet impossible requirements.

And to some parents, loving their kids means 'saving them' from that scorn. Which means heaping the expectations of the world onto their kids tenfold.

standards that are inherently abusive.

I don't think the Vacker's could come out the other side anything but emotionally abused. because the standards of their world. Because the standards they are held to, are so unrealistic, and the punishment for not meeting them is so heavy, the only way to meet them is to die a million deaths and not let anyone see that you are a corpse. You either become exactly what the world wants, or you fall, and everyone watches when you hit the pavement, and then they remark how ugly you look, and how you failed to even be appealing in death.

But guess what- that is your fate. Because it is impossible. And this type of pressure doesn't make diamonds, it creates kids like Fitz Vacker, who's fall from grace was inevitable. Because the standards were always impossible. No soul could meet them.

You can't come out of a world like that without some measure of emotional damage. It's a cycle.

Some elves choose to fight the power, but that resistance is futile when the power is literally ancient, with a relative scale for justice, and an 'objective' scale for judgement.

it just so happens that the Vacker's response was to melt their gold exactly into the shapes asked of them, regardless of how wrong it felt, and how much it hurt.

[sundazesun]

"I’M SICK TO DEATH OF HEARING OF HOW everything fucking hurts trans people’s feelings & how I’m obliged to erase myself & my reality, constantly police my speech & have it policed for me, & walk on eggshells to center their narcissistic fragility.

I’m sick to death hearing that trans people are the most oppressed people in the entire world. Affluent, western white men in their 30s, 40s, 50s wearing dresses are not fucking oppressed AT ALL, let alone more than poor black & brown girls in the developing world.

I’m sick to death hearing that TW being told they can’t get their dicks out in places where women & girls are vulnerable is denying them rights & the worst possible hardship any human has ever faced. If that’s the worst you ever face you are privileged, not oppressed.

I’m sick to death of women being asked to prove that vast numbers of us are in peril of brutal rape & death for our objections to sharing private spaces with males to be considered valid, & anything short of that being seen as an acceptable price to validate.

I’m sick to death of hearing that TWAW even if they take no hormones, have no surgery, see no doctors, get no diagnosis, experience no dysphoria, & keep their beards, but when we ask questions suddenly all the TW will kill themselves from triggered dysphoria.

I’m sick to death hearing that women talking about surviving male violence are “weaponizing their trauma” against trans people when the entire trans movement is founded on the weaponized trauma of their (supposed) dysphoria & emotional blackmail.

I’m sick to death of hearing “no one’s saying sex isn’t real” & “sex & gender are different” while being told there’s no such thing as a biological female, women have dicks, males have periods & get cervical cancer, a clitoris is just a small penis.

I’m sick to death of hearing how hard it is to be trans when every politician, mainstream media outlet, corporation, charity, & celebrity is in the thrall of trans ideology while women who say humans can’t change sex are vilified, doxxed, fired, & otherwise cancelled.

I’m sick to death of hearing that endometriosis, menstruation, miscarriage, abortion, street harassment, sexual objectification, & unpaid domestic labor are examples of “cis privilege.”

I’m sick to death of being told that women & girls who dare to set boundaries are hateful bigots; that men are entitled to decide whether our boundaries are justified & whether they will be granted; & that straight dysphoric men are entitled to sex from lesbians.

I’m sick to death of white people with BLM in their bios saying women who say humans can’t change sex are the same as nazis and white supremacists while also saying that black women are indistinguishable from dysphoric men.

I’m sick to death of being told that “humans can’t change sex” is the epitome of violent hatred but “choke on my fat ladycock, t*rf cunt,” “kill t*rfs,” “t*rfs get raped with my barbed wire-wrapped baseball bat” are considered justifiable, if not downright righteous.

I’m sick to death of hearing that injured male pride is a catastrophic violation of human rights that must be avoided at all costs, up to and including the sacrifice of female bodies—but female rights & trauma are at best irrelevant. Sick. To. Fucking. Death."

@feminist_rachel on twitter

[yanderemommabean]

I was re reading your bull hybrid fics of andy, and I really like them, and I was wondering how he would react to another farmer flirting with the reader?

I hope you're taking care of yourself and have a splendid day.

The bull just huffs, blowing air through his nose as he paces back and forth in his pen as he watches that no good Agust flirt with you and take your sunhat, holding it above your head and offering it back only if you give him a kiss. 

Andy doesn’t like August. He doesn’t like how he flirts, how he keeps his hands on you a bit too long, how he makes you laugh and acts like He can take you away from Andy himself, like the bull wouldn’t send him through three barns with just one angry kick. 

Thankfully you tell August that you aren’t going to kiss him, but then it’s followed by you flirting back, and his hairs stand on end when you say “We have to be classy, take me to the fair first”. 

No. No way in hell, as you’ve said before. What? It’s a cute saying! He likes it! What he doesn’t like is you forgetting that he’s claimed you as his, no matter how much you brush it off and act like it's some cute platonic joke. 

He kicks his hooves before easily galloping to jump over the barbed wire fence, sweeping you up as you yelp and push August out of the way. He gives warning chuffs, saying nothing as he backs away with you as you squirm and tell August “Don't worry! It’s fine! I swear! J-just give us a minute! He gets protective is all hun” 

Protective? Well, he’s a bit more than that, really, jealousy definitely has a part in his actions too. He holds you tightly in one arm as he ignores your scolding about hopping the fence yet again. Usually your scolding was cute and made him amused, with how he knew your cheeks would heat up and how you’d go on small rants that he just found adorable to the core. 

He takes you to the apple trees and just squeezes you tighter in a hug, chest rumbling in growls and dare he say- whimpers. Your worried hand comes up to try and pet his face, worried but also having a feeling this was more than about scaring away the farm help. You’ve noticed he tries to scare away August more than anyone else, even if he just waves hello some mornings. “Andy…Deep breaths. We’ve talked about how getting worked up isn’t good for you, remember?”

The hybrid just chuffs in acknowledgement, but still couldn’t help with how his instincts told him to stay on guard and keep that filthy excuse for a suitor away. “What’s this about? August was just being playful, he wasn’t bullying me none” “You agreed to meet him though. You agreed to be taken to a fair. That means you see him as a potential mate and I can't have him take you away”. His hands come to gently pet your hair, more to comfort himself than anything but you found it nice as you let the creature explain himself. You found it sweet he was so worried, but you needed to try and put some sort of boundaries down. Big sweet eyes or not, Andy can’t keep doing this. 

“Andy…You’re very sweet. You know me and you are close, and that I care about you very much but-” “But you found a human mate. As much as I’d like to understand that, I know that he won’t be good to you. Wont court you right, won’t make you smile and laugh or give you a companion when that sadness in the pit of your stomach grows too big”. “Andy-” You begin to protest, but you’re lifted up again and you're easily cradled in his large arms as he shakes his head, not letting you continue. “I care for you deeply too. I love you deeper than you seem to know. So, because I love you, I might have to do something that hurts you if you keep seeing that man”.  Your blood runs cold hearing that, and you begin to squirm again but it's no use with something so much bigger and bulkier than you. “Hurt me how?! You aren’t laying a hand on me!”

“Why would I lay my hands on you? It’s that ugly cowboy wanna be I’m going to maul, as much as you like him, I won’t allow that toxic and venomous snake around you. Whether you continue to like me or not, I’ll do what it takes to keep you close to me and taken care of, especially if that means I have to kill”.  ((I hope you enjoyed bean! Feel free to comment even if its just emoji spams lol -Mommabean))

[robotsdeservebetter]

Amber is not a bad person, you’re just mad that “Invincible” rightfully so told you that a girlfriend isn’t something the world owes you for being a good guy.

First of all, yes, Amber is flawed. Some of her actions were questionable, like threatening a bully to flirt with Mark or arguing with him in front of other people right before break up, which I see as her giving him a last chance to come clean, but, if I remember correctly, why in front of others? Also, she genuinely could have thought Mark ran away alone, leaving them, girlfriend and best friend, in danger, because him being Invincible is a theory from her POV, not a fact. Similar voice (even if it’s Steven Yuen), body and hair isn’t enough to say “Yep. Totally the same person”. And, actually, when the theory was confirmed true, it’s even worse than him just being a coward who suddenly leaves all the time. Why?

Because how in the world do you expect a relationship work, if you keep half of your life a secret? Boundaries are good, but Mark put a concrete wall with barbed wire and laser guns and hoped Amber would be understanding enough to pretend she’s blind until he decides it’s time. Amber did questionable things, she was impulsive at times, that’s true, but fuck ups isn’t a competition, it’s not healthy to treat them as such, which is why Amber’s anger was completely justified. Please take a look back at how he treated her.

He embarrassed Amber in front of her Mom by promising to come and not doing so. Mark showed up two hours later, when Amber’s Mom already wasn’t there to meet him. Imagine the awkwardness, the judgement, the “he will be there”. He mentioned things Amber was interested in, but due to him being able to do them thanks to superpowers, couldn’t elaborate, and blatantly changed the topic, which can sting, not enough to make an accusation, but obviously is a way to hide truth, alternatively, can be seen a lie to win Amber’s affections. He bought her a gift to make up for incoming fuck up, which can also sting (even if Amber is materialistic, her being an activist makes it safe to assume she was wondering whether that apology gift came from the stereotype or not). And of course, all the times he left with a made up excuse.

It’s important to note, that the show gave Mark a choice and that he made it. Eve told him that if he’s serious about Amber, he shouldn’t keep such secrets from her. Her own relationship fell apart due to lack of trust (and that Rex is overall a dick). The show made it clear that Mark doesn’t trust Amber, his girlfriend, enough to tell her. So what we have here is that Mark wants everything at once: a solid relationship, which requires both understanding and consent from Amber and trust from him, and safety of only chosen few to know his secret identity. He kept his identity secret, so next step should have been breaking up with Amber. Did he? No, he decided to string her along.

The show treats his decision to lie to Amber as a bad one because it is a bad decision. Mark’s feelings are valid, Amber’s are too and Amber felt left behind, kept as a token girlfriend. Mark only came clean when Amber broke up with him, as a last resort to keep their relationship. Trust isn’t a last resort, it’s the base of the base! Mark made his stance clear: “I don’t trust you, but I will use my sensitive information to convince you to stay and ignore my previous fuck ups”. Thinking about it, he practically used Invincible identity just like the expensive gift from fest: a grand gesture he made only when he risked losing Amber. This is not romantic, if you ask me and Amber.

What I’m trying to say is: Mark can risk his life every single day, and as unfair as it may feel, no other person is required to give him understanding, especially if they don’t know for sure what’s going on. Mark ended up with two opinions from Amber’s POV, both of which are horrible:

Not Invincible. He’s a coward, who leaves his girlfriend and best friend behind, not even trying to make them run away with him. He lies about being interested in same things as her. Brought a rock as a souvenir, which she regarded kindly. He upset Amber’s mom for no apparent reason. In response, all he could do is ask for forgiveness and not give any explanation. Conclusion: not a boyfriend material.

Is Invincible. He claimed to be serious about her, but kept half of his life, his genes a secret, which led to him stringing her along and only offering a “sorry” without explanations. Conclusion: he’s not serious about her, he might not understand it, but he’s not, serious relationship requires trust.

Then, why did she kiss him after a fight with Omni-man? Well, since she’s not an antagonist from any point of view, it’s safe to assume that Amber:

Still loved Mark. The amount of second chances she gave him, the amount of times she dosmissed his obvious lying speaks for her.

Wanted to comfort him and prevent awkwardness. They’re 17-18, how mature are any of them to accept Mark’s ex as a part of the gang without making it awkward?

Combining those two is what she came up with. Is it a good decision? I don’t think it is, they made up for now, but Mark trusts her now not because he decided he can, but because he was “forced” to tell (by plot or himself, so to speak, re-look at points made in paragraph 6. That didn’t come from his almost trust is what I mean).

In the end, fandom has nothing to complain about. Mark DID get his “my personality is to support you” girlfriend. Amber calmed down for now.

So yeah, Amber is not a bad character, she just doesn’t treat Mark like a god. You know who also doesn’t? Eve. A thing to note: Mark trusted her without question. A parallel? A will they won’t they? Who cares, we all know what will happen with their relationship anyway.

In the end I want to say, that I enjoyed Amber’s character. Despite being main superhero’s girlfriend, she didn’t feel generic, and that’s what makes Invincible so good for me: it’s aware of superhero tropes it can’t or chose not to avoid and executes them in a way that makes the characters ambiguous, in a way that makes me question the way I and fandoms categorise characters. Amber is flawed and that’s what makes her human. Writers took a risk to make things complicated, to make an imperfect woman of colour (please don’t say these don’t matter unless you understand racism and sexism can be subconscious), which you can say didn’t pay off, but I’m glad they took the risk, I enjoyed how it all turned out.

[crematedcow]

Snippet #1 (DEMO)

A small snippet as I alluded to 🤫 this one is from what will be available in the demo

CHANGES MIGHT STILL HAPPEN

Their gnarled branches reached towards the sky, as if pleading for life, mirroring the village's state that became clearer with every step you took. The huts, weathered by the heat and neglect, stood as silent witnesses to the village's former vitality. Their thatched roofs were now patched with dried leaves and broken twigs, struggling to hold onto the fragments of shelter they once provided. It was as if time had stood still here, preserving the essence of a forgotten time where rain visited them oh-so often. As you ventured closer to the huts, barbed wire fences wove their way from both sides along your path, like a guide to bring you to your goal. Your attention turned to one of the adjacent fences and the fiels they bordered, where a somber scene unfolded before you — a couple of solitary cows scattered across the parched fields as the bright sun shone upon them. With no shade to hide, you could only imagine their suffering. So it was no wonder, that most were mere remnants of their former selves, their weary forms a testament to the harshness of their existence. Yet amidst this somber tableau, a single bovine figure captured your attention. It stood apart from the herd, radiating an air of vitality and strength. Its robust physique and lustrous coat defied the surrounding aridity, as if it belonged to an entirely different breed. The creature's gaze met yours, and in that instant, a resonant and melodious "Moo!" reverberated through the stillness, as if acknowledging your presence. ... Polite enough to accept the cow's silent invitation, you heeded its call and approached with measured steps. Each stride brought you closer to the fence, until you stood at the boundary where the barbed wire fence was. Despite the limited proximity, your standpoint offered a clearer view of the extraordinary animal. Even from a distance, you had noticed the cow's light-brown coat, resembling the hue of caramel, adorned with bright white spots. However, it was upon closer observation that you noticed the cow mindfully chewing on something, an act that struck you as unusual considering the desolate state of the surrounding field. And then, as if a hidden secret had been revealed, you noticed a delicate speck of green beneath its front hoof, forming a near-perfect circle around it. Was that… grass? It was hard to tell from the distance, but it certainly looked that way. It was as though life itself sprouted from the very ground on which the cow stood. How curious. Intrigued, you felt compelled to delve deeper into the mystery of this extraordinary creature. But before you could embark on your investigation, a voice resonated through the air, interrupting your thoughts.

the fateful meeting of mc and the cow! 🐄🐄🐄

[pontevoix]

hc + fighting for shoko from here | @chaoslulled

i.  as  a  child,  fighting  is  verbal.  it  is  disorganized.  it  is  wasted  energy.  her  grandfather  likes  to  sit  at  the  right  side  corner  of  the  couch.  shoko  is  pretty  certain  that  he’s  worn  a  dent  into  the  cushion  (  a  faded  olive  green  )  -  the  couch  is  a  staple  part  of  his  morning  &  evening  routine.  in  the  morning,  he  reads  the  news.  in  the  evening,  he  reads  what  looks  to  be  the  same  history  book.  shoko  is  never  sure  if  he  makes  any  progress  reading  the  book,  but  she  indulges  him  anyway.  they  weren’t  close,  but  they  weren’t  strangers.  shoko  spends  evenings  sitting  on  the  floor  by  his  feet  —  she  pulls  out  her  homework  or  a  magazine.  her  parents  sometimes  fight  in  the  kitchen,  &  they  sometime  fight  in  their  bedroom.  mostly,  they  just  sound  tired.  shoko  borders  on  something  disrespectful  when  she  claps  her  grandfather  on  the  knee  &  speaks  something  informal  —  ‘  night,  gramps.  i’m  off.  ‘

&  then  she  spends  the  rest  of  the  night  sitting  in  her  windowsill.  the  fights  that  she  hears  are  inconsequential.  she  doesn’t  think  much  about  learning  to  say  hurtful  things.  she  can  say  rude  things.  but  she  never  learns  to  prioritize  cruel  things  in  her  speech.

ii.  she’s  nine.  there’s  a  kid  in  her  class  that  tugs  on  the  lazy  ponytail  she  has  tied  her  hair  into.  the  teacher  is  talking,  &  she  has  debatable  patience.  she  scoots  her  desk  back  fast  &  hard  &  because  she  knows  it  will  jam  the  toes  of  the  student  behind  her.  he  retracts  his  fingers.

by  now,  she  can  see  curses.  mostly,  they  mind  their  own  business.  but  sometimes  they  react  poorly  to  being  seen.  shoko  starts  having  a  greater  appreciation  for  her  own  space,  for  private  space.  she  doesn’t  fight  for  it,  but  she  doesn’t  mind  lining  her  boundaries  with  barbed  wire.

iii.  shoko  is  not  the  first  in  her  family  with  an  innate  technique.  it  had  skipped  a  generation,  but  now  it’s  back.  her  grandfather  has  a  habit  of  telling  her  about  his  late  wife’s  habits,  the  good  that  she  used  to  do.  shoko  pretends  to  listen.

no  one  is  startled  by  what  she  can  do.  they  are  excited  by  what  she  can  do.

sometimes  she’s  excited  too.  sometimes  she’s  exhausted  by  the  fact  that  none  of  them  seem  to  get  it.  reverse  cursed  energy  is  simple  for  her.  it  feels  like  point  a  to  point  b.

&  when  she  practices  reverse  cursed  energy,  then  she  sees  a  lot  of  life  energy  all  at  once.  she  feels  the  interconnection  of  life  systems.  when  her  family  talks  about  her  power,  they  talk  about  what  she  accomplishes.  they  never  ask  about  what  she  sees.

they  don’t  talk  about  how  her  energy  sometimes  attracts  the  cursed,  how  she  screams  the  first  time  time  a  cursed  spirit  thinks  she  is  magnetic.

to  this  day,  she’s  so  damn  embarrassed  about  the  way  that  she  screamed.

over  all,  no  one  tells  her  about  the  things  that  her  grandmother  did  to  survive.

iv.  then  she  goes  to  school  for  sorcerers.  &  her  classmates  are  special.  one  is  self-righteous,  &  the  other  is  painfully  close  to  thinking  himself  a  god.  shoko  flicks  both  of  them  in  the  middle  of  their  foreheads,  &  they  get  along  just  fine.  they  attend  classes,  &  shoko  tries  to  nap.  they  train  together;  gojo  &  geto  have  more  combat  experience  than  shoko  does.

she’s  a  quick  learner,  but  gojo  is  —-  what  ?  classically  trained  ?  &  geto  is  whatever  or  whatever  or  whatever.

she’s  a  quick  learner,  &  she  only  learns  faster  once  she  develops  her  own  style.

for  the  record,  she  doesn’t  really  win  sparring  sessions.  however,  she  refuses  to  make  herself  an  easy  target.  ultimately,  geto  &  gojo  inspire  shoko’s  fighting  style.  they  allow  her  to  use  weapons  when  they  train  together.

iv.  she  bears  little  utility  as  a  long  distance  fighter.  when  she  is  in  combat,  it  is  necessary  that  she  use  hand-to-hand  combat.

furthermore,  she  was  not  trained  in  martial  arts  as  a  child,  &  no  one  thought  that  combat  would  be  her  primary  strength  so  —  she  was  not  drilled  to  be  a  master  of  any  martial  arts  discipline.

still,  shoko  is  a  quick  learner.

when  she  fights  with  hand  to  hand,  she  practices  elements  of  the  shorinji  kempo  which  champions  self-defense  training,  mental  training,  and  health.  a  demonstration  can  be  found  here.  it  utilizes  rapid  attacks,  efficiency,  flow,  &  adaptability.

she  also  incorporates  elements  of  aikido,  which  considers  a  framework  of  life  energy.  it  prioritizes  breathing,  turning,  &  the  use  of  momentum.  a  demonstration  can  be  found  here.

over  all,  when  she  fights,  the  range  of  her  style  depends  on  the  size  of  the  curse.

ultimately,  she  likes  to  work  smart  rather  than  hard.  so  sometimes  she  cheats  or  fights  dirty  (the  sparring  matches  she  wins  against  her  peers  usually  are  won  because  of  her  dirty  plays).

which  is  a  bit  of  a  shame,  really,  because  one  of  her  strengths  as  a  fighter  is  how  slow  she  is  to  tire.  she  can  heal  herself,  you  know.

she  can  keep  going.

v.  she  is  frustrated  by  traditional  weapons  &  by  cursed  weapons.  she  can  use  them,  but  she’s  picky.

she  prefers  daggers  &  smaller  blades  —  she  likes  them  to  put  her  own  cursed  energy  into  them.

she  likes  to  work  smarter  rather  than  harder.

she  prefers  normal  weapons  —-  tasers,  frankly.  firearms,  maybe.  tasers  again.

they  don’t  always  grant  a  killing  blow,  but  she  appreciates  that  they  allows  her  to  work  efficiently.

the  older  she  gets,  the  more  experience  she  has  studying  curses  &  their  physicality.  there  are  few  in  her  social  circle  that  ask  the  same  questions  she  does,  that  look  for  different  types  of  answers.

sometimes  she’s  curious  —  if  cursed  matter,  cursed  toxins  can  be  pulled  from  cursed  bodies.  she  wonders  if  it  could  be  used  like  a  poison  against  curses.

it’s  something  she’s  still  figuring  out.

vi.  the  fighting  she  learns  is  mostly  for  her  own  protection  &  for  her  time  as  a  student.  it  becomes  clear  very  quickly  that  she  is  better  considered  an  asset  than  she  is  a  field  agent.

so  she  loses  the  chance  to  become  much  stronger  as  a  fighter.  on  a  scale  of  1-10,  she  averages  around  6.5.  she  might  hit  a  7  on  a  good  day.

it’s  better  to  keep  the  asset  in  a  secure  location.  on  several  missions,  she  lingers  nearby  to  act  as  needed.  sometimes,  she  has  protection

she  decides  that  it’s  obnoxious  when  geto  is  assigned  to  her  as  a  bodyguard.  it’s  more  obnoxious  when  gojo  is  assigned  to  her  as  a  bodyguard.

she  decides  that  it’s  a  waste  of  energy  to  care  too  much  about  being  guarded.

vii.  work  smarter  not  harder.

fighting  was  verbal.  &  then  it  was  also  life/death.  &  then  it’s  also  someone  else’s  decision,  something  that  can  be  disused.

a  girl  dies.  gojo  decides  to  use  reversed  cursed  technique  in  a  way  that  she  has  before,  that  she  thinks  he  uses  too  recklessly.  yu  haibara  dies  before  she  can  touch  his  life  energy  —  this  is  something  she  understands.  she  cannot  save  those  that  she  cannot  touch.

geto  suguru  defects,  &  his  reasoning  is  sound.  gojo  loses  bits  &  pieces  of  himself,  &  he’s  wondering  at  his  strength  &  what  it  means  to  be  the  strongest.

fighting  becomes  a  space  something  that  she  can  exist  in.

she  becomes  a  doctor.

although  her  alliances  with  the  school  are  clear,  she  stretches  into  a  grey  area  where  she  doesn’t  hold  judgements  on  jujutsu’s  fugitives,  on  whomever  &  whatever.  it’s  smart  to  hear  all  sides,  all  angles.  that  makes  for  efficient  work.

for  the  right  price,  maybe  she’ll  heal  an  enemy’s  ally.  she  hasn’t  decided.

fighting  is  the  time  that  they  live  in.

she’ll  figure  out  the  rest  in  due  time.

viii.  sometimes  fighting  is  getting  out  of  bed  in  the  morning.

there’s  that,  too.  but  that’s  private.

shoko  starts  having  a  greater  appreciation  for  her  own  space,  for  private  space.  she  doesn’t  fight  for  it,  but  she  doesn’t  mind  lining  her  boundaries  with  barbed  wire.

[apuckishwit]

Steddie- “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

*stares at the Word doc this is on*

Ummmm....oops?

I...I am very sorry for this. No one dies, that's all I'm saying. Also, this will be continued in like three parts I think because this bunny grew TEETH.

It ends when they close the Upside Down for good.

Of course it does. It was always going to end here, wasn’t it? Somehow, some way, it was always going to end here…from the very moment Will was first pulled down into this hellscape, they’ve all just been slowly making their way towards this very moment. There was never any other choice. He’s known that, deep down inside, for longer than he wants to admit.

The plan seems to be working, is the thing. No major surprises, no hiccups, no sudden changes, no need to scramble and improvise. Perhaps he should be nervous, but all he can think is that they might actually pull it off. They might actually put Vecna/Henry Creel/One/Whatever in the ground for good, might be able to close the gates once and for all and finally get their lives back.

He and Eddie are part of the diversion team—them, Robin and Nancy, Jonathan and his friend Argyle, Joyce Byers and Murray Bauman, along with someone named Agent Stinson and a small group of government spooks sent by some doctor that Hopper seems to more or less trust. They’ve split up along the gates that burst up into Hawkins all those months ago, causing general mayhem with government-issued firebombs and guns that had made Nancy smile in grim satisfaction. They’re not trying to cause any real damage—just enough to split Vecna’s focus, make him concentrate on shoring up his boundaries. Anything to give Eleven an advantage while she and Will (the only ones of the kids that are allowed anywhere near this fight and only because there’s no other choice…Steve was ready to die on that hill, but fortunately so were Hopper and Joyce) make their final stand with Hopper and the rest of the mysterious Dr. Owens’s soldiers backing them up.

He and Eddie are back-to-back at the edge of the Upside Down version of the trailer park, a circle of destruction around them. Neither of them had liked the idea of coming back here—where Eddie had almost lost his life, where Steve had almost lost his goddamn mind trying to stem the bleeding while Dustin sobbed and screamed and begged him to do something, Steve, please you gotta save him!. But they needed distractions at as many of the gates as possible, and he and Eddie know the area best. They had the best chance of escaping somewhere else if things went south. So. The trailer park it is.

“How much longer you think?” Eddie gasps, one hand leaving the barbed wire-wrapped club he’s got clutched in his hands to scrabble back against Steve’s hip. Steve grabs his wrist, intertwines their fingers. They’re both breathing hard, both bruised and dirty…but no major wounds. No blood.

He glances down at the watch still gamely wrapped around his wrist. “Ten minutes ‘til evac.” He glances up into the sky, watching for clouds of bats in the brief bursts of red lightning. The dogs came for them earlier—a whole pack of them, and Steve had breathed thanks to whoever was listening for the way Nancy pulled him and Eddie into the woods days before the final assault and drilled them on the weapons the government provided, made them shoot at target after target until she was satisfied that they could hold their own. They’d managed to take out the largest part of the pack before the things were on them before resorting to the club and Steve’s trusty nailbat.

The dogs were the worst of it. They haven’t seen any Demogorgons, haven’t seen any of the bats (they’d both agreed, at the first sight of the bats, they were retreating—Steve had made Eddie promise over and over that he wasn’t going to try and be a hero this time). They’ve done their part. Now it’s just a waiting game.

They feel it when El and Will succeed.

A tremendous crack, like thunder but a thousand times louder, splits the air. The ground trembles under their feet, and the vines choking the trailers and yards around them start writhing and shaking. Distant shrieks like dying animals sound, an eerie echo in the air. Forks of red lightning lance across the sky like strobe lights. The ground heaves again and Steve loses his balance, tipping back over into Eddie, who winds his arms around his waist and steadies him.

“Easy there! Think that’s our cue, baby,” he says, not letting go until Steve has his feet back under him. Even then, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Steve squeezes back. The ground shudders again, and Steve just nods.

“Yeah, time to go.” As if in agreement, the radio clipped to the front of his jacket crackles to life, Hopper’s voice ordering everyone to get to their pre-arranged evac points.

“Hop! The kids?” Joyce’s voice comes over the line, and Steve holds his breath until Hopper answers.

“They’re fine! It’s over…it’s all over as soon as we get out of here.”

Eddie lets out a huff of air that might be laughter, presses his forehead against Steve’s shoulder before darting up to kiss him soundly. “We did it,” he breathes. “We fuckin’ did it!”

Still hand in hand, they turn and race for the shell of Eddie’s trailer, and the gate that will take them home.

And that is where it all goes wrong.

*

It starts after the Russians.

His bruises fade, the damn near permanent ringing in his right ear—that he’s been dealing with since Hargrove caved his face in—settles back to a manageable level, and his ribs stop screaming at him when he twists too far to one side. He just…keeps getting headaches. Not quite full-blown migraines—they don’t take him out completely—but frequent, chronic headaches.

Frequent enough that he starts keeping a bottle of Tylenol and a pair of sunglasses in his glovebox. Frequent enough that he learns to recognize the very earliest symptoms of “a headache day.” Frequent enough that Robin, when she notices (and really, she notices scarily quickly, he’s not used to being seen the way Robin sees him), drags him to the library and spends almost three hours looking up possible side effects of frequent concussions, cross-referencing them with Steve’s experiences.

Then they spend a whole shift at Family Video making up a list of possible headache triggers for him to experiment with.

He doesn’t drink anything with caffeine in it anymore, Robin has been making him keep a damn food journal so they can start figuring out if anything in his diet is a trigger (it’s actually been really helpful, but it feels too much like homework for him not grumble about it), and he’s been trying to unfuck his sleep schedule.

The last is the problem—his sleep schedule has been fucked up since the night he got it in his head to go apologize to Jonathan Byers and walked into a horror movie.

He tries everything—he sets a rigid bedtime schedule, he works out in the evenings to tire himself out, he drinks the tea Robin steals from her kitchen for him (that turns out to be pretty nice…it doesn’t really help him sleep, but he finds it soothing anyway and keeps drinking it at night), but nothing really keeps the nightmares at bay except hard liquor or the little blue pills he finds left in his mother’s medicine cabinet from the last time his parents were in town.

And Steve knows the road both of those solutions lead down. Has two perfect examples. He has no desire to live his life swinging between sloshed and hungover like his father, nor does he want to drift around in a haze of Vicodin and “nerve pills” like his mother. Besides.

After the Russians, after that godawful shit they injected him and Robin with, he can’t stand the thought of being that out of control, that incapacitated again. But Robin really thinks getting more uninterrupted rest will help his headaches. And apparently popping Tylenol like candy can lead to stomach problems even if he is very careful not to take more than the recommended daily dose, so there’s that. There’s plenty else in his life trying to give him ulcers without adding fuel to the fire.

In desperation, he finally takes one of his few days off from Family Video (his father started putting money in his account every month again after Starcourt burned, but he doesn’t trust dear old Dad’s generosity anymore…that money goes directly into a separate savings account he opened and he funds his day to day expenses with his own paycheck) to drive the familiar route to the high school. He parks at the far end of the student lot, and tramps his way around the baseball field towards the wooded area that butts up against the school’s property.

He's never been to the little clearing with its old picnic table himself—Munson was discreet, but he’d still never cared to find out what his dad would do to him if Steve actually got caught buying from the local drug dealer. Usually he just passed a wad of bills to Tommy or one of the other members of the basketball team and let them handle buying the favors for his parties. Everyone knows where it is, though, and roughly what times Munson can be counted on to be there. Seniors have study hall the last period of the day, and only like ten percent of the population actually sits in the library and studies.

He sits himself down at the picnic table, closing his eyes and tipping his head back to enjoy the late September sun. He’s only been there for about ten minutes when he hears heavy, careless footsteps entering the clearing from the same direction he came. Instantly, his eyes fly open and he clocks the approach—the footsteps sound perfectly human, but this summer taught them that’s not necessarily a guarantee of safety.

It's just Munson, though, chains dangling from the belt loops of his ripped jeans and a logo of a band Steve has never even heard of decorating his long-sleeved t-shirt. A plain metal lunchbox dangles from one hand. He falters when his eyes land on Steve, his eyes widening sightly.

“Harrington?” he asks, surprise plain in his voice.

He tilts his head, suspicion replacing the surprise pretty quickly. Steve tries not to be offended. He and his old crew had mostly left Munson alone—not exactly a good idea to piss off the guy supplying you with illegal substances after all—but ‘mostly’ is not ‘totally.’ Steve’s pretty sure he never did anything personally to Munson…but he was probably friends with someone who did, and it’s not like Steve had ever tried to stop any of his buddies when they started in on someone.

“Hey,” he says, a touch awkwardly. Munson looks him up and down again, his eyes hard and wary, before cautiously sitting down across from him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such illustrious company?” Munson says, and Steve has no idea what illustrious means, but judging by the tone he doesn’t think it’s meant to be flattering. Munson doesn’t look like he’s going to turn around and leave, though, so he ignores the (probably) insult.

“You still sell?” he asks, and then kind of wants to smack his own forehead. Of course Munson still sells, that’s the entire point of this.

Munson lets out a little snort of laughter, and his shoulders relax a little. He laces his fingers together and rests his chin on them. “Well, I don’t hang out here for the ambiance, Harrington.” Munson smirks at him, and Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Don’t piss off the guy supplying you illegal substances. It’s, like, rule one.

“I need weed,” he says, getting right to the point.

He doesn’t…he doesn’t really want to use anything. Not anymore. But Robin’s been right about the caffeine and the food journal and everything, and if she says finding a way to unfuck his sleeping will help, he’s willing to give it a shot. He doesn’t want to use alcohol, he doesn’t want to use his mom’s pills, and he sure as shit is not going to draw his parents’ attention back to him by going to a doctor for something more legitimate. Weed is the best compromise he can come up with. Just enough to mellow him out a little, without feeling out of control the way he did with the Russian shit.

Munson perks up a little. “Ooh, King Steve finally throwing another rager? Not gonna lie, man, my profit margin took a pretty big hit when you stopped those.”

Steve frowns. God, he hates that name. “What? No…uh, no. This is just for me.”

Munson tips backwards a little, placing his hands down on the picnic table to drum his fingers against the weathered wood. “Really now? Not that I’m not flattered you came to little ole’ me after all this time…but why after all this time? Whoever else you’ve been getting your stuff from get picked up?” He sounds like he’s teasing, now, but there’s something genuinely curious in his voice.

Already exasperated, and feeling the beginnings of another headache creeping around the edges of his brain, Steve sails straight past all the bitchy replies he could fire off. “Look, dude, everyone knows you don’t run your mouth to the wrong people and you don’t cut your stuff with anything dangerous and I need…” He stops, not having meant to be quite that truthful. “You want to make some money or what?” he snaps, not liking how still Munson has gone, not liking the way Munson’s dark eyes are boring into his.

“Someone give you a bad trip?” Munson asks quietly and fuck if he doesn’t actually sound a little concerned.

Steve can’t help the bitter laugh that bubbles up. Bad trip. He thinks of fists crashing against his face, ropes cutting into his wrists, the sickening fear of thinking he and Robin were both going to die in that bunker. If only it had just been a bad trip. “Something like that,” he mutters.

“Well shit,” Munson says, drumming his fingers on the tabletop again, the truly absurd number of rings he’s wearing flashing in the early fall sunlight. After a moment, he nods to himself. “All right, Harrington, how much you want?”

Steve tries not to sag in relief. Judging by the way Munson’s eyes sharpen again, he doesn’t quite succeed. “I dunno…I’d just like to smoke a joint before bed. Pretty, uh pretty regularly?”

Munson pins him with another sharp look, but then he relaxes, a slightly manic grin settling on his face. “Regular supply, huh? Oh, I think I like where this is going.” He plunks the lunchbox down on the picnic table.