#because that's not exactly how wealth works

[tanadrin]

okay so i feel like i sometimes see people critiquing various anti-capitalist complaints by saying “look, you can’t redistribute Musk’s/Bezos’s/Gates’/whoever’s wealth the way you think; investment valuations and total wealth valuations are complicated and situation specific, and if you suddenly tried to give everybody an equal portion of a random rich guy’s wealth, you’d destroy most if not all of it.”

and this is true if your interlocutor thinks wealth is literally a scrooge mcduck-style pool of money. i think most people who engage in politics discourse online don’t think that’s the case though. and i don’t think it’s an incoherent position to be like “look, insofar as it means anything, the wealth whose value we estimate in dollars is capital; capital, whether it’s in the form of abstract investments like stocks or physical stuff like land and factories is a claim on the future productivity of society; and one person having an oversized claim on that future productivity is bad, either because it’s intrinsically immoral or because it has some negative consequence X. therefore, we can and should redistribute that claim, whether it’s in the form of some simpler mechanism like taxes or some more complicated process like reorganizing society completely.”

like you might disagree with that. you can have lots of substantive, vociferous disagreements with people who think that. but acting like the concept of redistribution is meaningless because wealth isn’t a fixed amount of dollars in a bank account is both wrong and probably misapprehends the nature of the disagreement you’re having.

[sammydem0n64]

I've also been thinking about Rinoll a lot recently and like. Guys she. She kinda wins in the end? SPECIFICALLY in regards to her relationship with Chocip. She gets what she wants in the end with NO consequence. Dude.

[apas-95]

Firstly - Yes, it is a necessary part of the struggle against the genocide to engage in protests, boycotts, 'awareness raising' and 'holding accountable', etc. That being said, however, it does absolutely nothing on its own, and far too many people are being far too proud of themselves for an outsized belief in their action.

These things - peaceful protests, boycotts against brands, letters to senators, literally posting - do nothing whatsoever to impact the pace of the genocide being carried out. They have not slowed the advance of Merkava tanks or the flights of F-35s by even a minute. They are effective if and only if they are carried out in conjunction with and support of actual direct action against the war machine. Work stoppages at ports, blockades of weapons manufacturers, these are the bare minimum of actual opposition to the genocide. Further action, like solidarity strikes in the states providing diplomatic and military support for the occupation, general unrest, etc, are sorely needed - and, ultimately, are the only things to be done not premised on appealing to the good conscience of those committing genocide. Your governments do not care what you think of them, they care if you stop working - and they will only stop sending weapons if you physically stop them.

It feels like 2020 taught a lot of people nothing. Massive protests, unthinkable levels of outrage - even met with apparently cowing of the state, overwhelmed with public opposition to their policies. Ultimately, none of the movement's goals survived, and the gestures (which is all that were gotten) faded. Roads were renamed and painted back over. Cops still kill people exactly as much. They know exactly how much you oppose it, they always have. Telling them isn't going to do anything, because it's not news. They don't act this way because they're misguided or have wrong ideas, they do it because it's profitable and in their material interests. The only way to make them act differently is to make them act differently. Either directly, by blocking their actions, or indirectly, by making the endeavour too costly through strikes and other leveraging of the fact that we, as workers, produce all their wealth. Each dollar going to buy IDF missiles ultimately comes from you. You want to stop it? Organise and strike. Physically block weapons movements. Yes, propagandise, talk about it, but for the love of god, don't trick yourself into believing that's the end of it.

The Palestinian resistance isn't limiting themselves to posting and raising awareness. They know that those committing genocide are plenty aware of what they're doing. No, the resistance is taking up arms. They would kill the soldiers of your country if they came across them defending the occupation, and they'd be right to do so. The soldiers of your country would kill you for striking. There is only one war, here.

[etherealkissed88]

applying the law while experiencing the 3d

why do you accept the neutral 3d as true?

“she texted me saying she doesnt want a relationship”

“i got a rejection letter from my dream college”

“i still dont have my ideal appearance”

“my bank account says i only have $2.45”

-> “i cant manifest” “what should i do now?” “it didnt work”

why are you accepting these as true? why are you adding negative meaning to the neutral 3d and then accepting that you “cant manifest”? why accept that as true? whatever happens in the 3d is always neutral. meaning does not come on its own - you add meaning when you judge it and decide its something negative. you are the only one in power and you have the option to choose what to assume and accept as true and youre accepting that she didnt want to commit? youre accepting that youre broke? it doesnt matter what happens in the 3d because the real stuff is happening in imagination. the 3d is always a neutral illusion. as the only one in power, you chose that she wants you in imagination so stick with that. dont use the 3d as validation when it only follows you.

you always get to choose the meaning

3d -> she sent a text saying she doesnt want a relationship

person A: shit, she doesnt want me. now what? i failed at manifesting

person B: *knows that is only neutral & still knows she and her sp are already in a relationship in imagination*

the fact that you can look at something in the 3d and decide what it means (or stick with the fact that it has no meaning), means you have power over it. you always have power over the 3d. if you didnt, how does law of assumption even exist? how is it possible that a homeless woman can manifest wealth while living in her everyday 3d homeless life? because the 3d never matters. ever. the only thing that matters is who you are being in imagination because that is what constantly is molding the 3d every second.

“but what do i do if the 3d is always in my face?”

1. remember that the 3d is always neutral so whatever happens, doesnt mean anything. it doesnt mean, your getting failing at manifesting. get used to seeing things as neutral. even getting your manifestation is neutral. you are the one adding positive meaning to it. there are even times when “negative” things in the 3d become the actual thing that leads people to their manifestation. an example is a lady’s success story: she was manifesting a better job and in the 3d she lost her current job but that lead to someone recommending her to a higher company since the person knew she lost her previous job. so she experienced something that is usually seen as negative (losing her job) but it caused her to get exactly what she wanted (the better job). this is why we always say: stick to the end, no matter what happens, stay true to what you want in imagination.

2. now that you know everything is neutral, remember that your only job is to assume your desire is fulfilled in imagination only! theres no reason to assume you have it in the 3d if it clearly isnt there. the 3d is neutral and a therefore a dead world. assuming you have something in a dead world is just useless. especially since you know imagination changes the 3d. that means the only goal is to assume its done in imagination and leave the 3d alone! live your normal life in the 3d while knowing its already done in imagination. using the lady’s success story about getting a better job, when she lost her previous job, she had to find another way to pay the bills, but she still stayed true to imagination and remembered she already has her upgraded job. do whatever you need to do in the 3d, feel whatever emotions you have, because the dead world doesnt matter. emotions, actions, etc in the 3d dont matter and remember feelings (angry, depressed, etc) dont manifest. your only job is to know its already done in imagination. since imagination = 3d, of course, by law, the 3d had no choice but to obey imagination where she already had her better job. thats why the 3d reflected that.

kisses, jani ☆

[sp0o0kylights]

Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it. 

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it. 

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned. 

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design. 

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy. 

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job. 

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family. 

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead. 

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents. 

How his money went into a bank account they had access to. 

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line. 

And boy, had he been acting out of line. 

 Getting into fights. 

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills. 

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.) 

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for  was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track. 

His own plans be damned. 

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

 “We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot. 

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen. 

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas. 

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!” 

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him. 

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”  

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go. 

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong. 

xXx 

Mike hadn’t cared. 

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months. 

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.) 

Max was the surprising emotional standout. 

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest. 

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them. 

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him. 

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage. 

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh. 

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again. 

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.) 

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.” 

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy. 

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?” 

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”  

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max. 

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. 

xXx 

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom. 

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble. 

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter. 

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago. 

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck. 

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles. 

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!” 

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.” 

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large. 

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road. 

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone. 

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it. 

Now he just stared tiredly at her back. 

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case. 

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second. 

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it. 

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort. 

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.” 

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone. 

It was just---Nancy did know. 

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life. 

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year. 

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that. 

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down. 

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.) 

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.” 

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to. 

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin. 

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now. 

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm. 

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough. 

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…” 

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them. 

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt. 

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car. 

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit. 

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things. 

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?” 

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice. 

A third time for good measure. 

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.” 

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really. 

Not anymore. 

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused. 

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in. 

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy. 

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’ 

 He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly. 

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.” 

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet. 

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise. 

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut. 

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point. 

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand. 

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. 

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?” 

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left. 

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.  

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin. 

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed. 

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking. 

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him. 

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal. 

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door. 

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open. 

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to. 

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward. 

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents? 

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes. 

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing . 

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there. 

xXx 

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead. 

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that. 

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it. 

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough. 

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone. 

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him. 

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in. 

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away. 

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.) 

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt. 

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan. 

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can. 

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times. 

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out. 

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.” 

Then; “It gets worse.” 

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans. 

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl. 

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid, 

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.” 

Steve stayed silent. 

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones. 

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.” 

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut. 

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now. 

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--” 

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer. 

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.” 

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry. 

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him. 

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.” 

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done. 

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”  

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie. 

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.” 

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news. 

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.” 

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…” 

He’d put his wife first. His family, first. 

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one. 

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess. 

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored. 

 They’d warned him. 

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic. 

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was. 

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.” 

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle. 

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary. 

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind. 

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come. 

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie. 

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger? 

 Steve would bow to their whims. 

 Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it. 

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand. 

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work. 

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish. 

Steve would try anyway. 

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck. 

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.” 

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine. 

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?” 

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one. 

Not  when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it. 

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.  

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was. 

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him. 

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins. 

No matter how long the engagement. 

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him. 

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think. 

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel. 

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others. 

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin. 

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.) 

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other. 

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?” 

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there. 

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question. 

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway. 

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart. 

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce. 

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest. 

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse. 

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead. 

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly. 

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve. 

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too. 

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!” 

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so. 

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!” 

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either. 

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.” 

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying. 

Speaking of; 

 “When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been. 

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home. 

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice. 

Part Two

[jarofstyles]

Illicit

Hello my loves! Welcome to the first part of our next mini series we've been working on behind the scenes. The next 2 parts are available immediately on Patreon now, but will be updated here in the next few weeks!

Patreon

Warnings- cheating ( WITH y/n), Asshole Harry, I hate everyone but her, old money/wealth, toxic relationship dynamic, harry is mean and will be mean but not to Y/N lmao, smut

WC- 2.4k

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

Harry had just finished cleaning himself of cum as his phone rang. 

It was his girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’, really, because this wasn’t a real relationship. Not in his mind, anyways. 

“What?” His voice was a sharp whip, already annoyed that the post orgasm bliss had been interrupted by Katherine. Y/N was sitting next to him, her leg thrown over his thigh as fingers traced over his chest, absentminded circles pausing when she heard his attitude already. Her brow raised as he lifted the phone to show the name on the screen, making her nod, lips turning down. That irritated him further. 

“When are you coming to get me?” A voice that pierced his ears made him close his eyes, a dull throb beginning to coast down his head. “Daddy said you’re coming to the event and you were going to pick me up!” 

She was huffing like a child, not wanting to wait. Realistically, he would leave in 30 minutes. Y/N would stay curled up in his bed and wait for him to come home before he took her away to one of his family cabin’s with the rest of their friend group- the ones who knew of him and Y/N. He would spend the entire night trying to think of an excuse to get back to her early, and hoping Katherine wouldn’t throw a fit about not being able to come on this ‘business trip’.  

“You live with your father. Could you have not shared a ride?” His tone was icy, something Y/N had never been the recipient of. Thank god, really. As sexy as it was to hear him talk like that to other people, it would definitely make her cry. The man was intense, even he knew that, but not everyone seemed to catch on. 

“Hazza! Come on.” She whined. “He already left and stopped by the office. I’m getting ready now but we have to be early for the photos!” As if that was going to help her cause. It was like the girl had a handbook on how to say the wrong things. 

Harry didn’t do those stupid step and repeats. While Katherine loved being the center of attention, it wasn’t something Harry desired. In actuality, he detested it. He hated paparazzi and had broken 2 cameras from having them in his face without a second glance. No aggression, the picture of calm with pure ice on his face as he did so. If they valued their possessions, they shouldn’t be shoving them in people’s way. That’s what he thought, at least. 

“I’ll be there in an hour. I’m not doing those photos. I don’t care what you do. Now stop calling me when I'm in the middle of things. You know if I don’t answer once, wait for further instruction.” He paused. “And stop calling me that childish nickname. I don’t find it cute or endearing, it’s embarrassing. Goodbye.”

There was a sharp squeak as he hung up the phone and threw it to the ground, rolling Y/N around onto her back and sliding his still sticky cock back inside of her yet again. His annoyance was clear on his face, but it quickly melted away as her arms wrapped around him and her lips covered his face with soft coos, legs pulling him in deeper. Maybe she was a bit sore, maybe his last load was still dripping out of her messy hole, but she knew exactly how the man needed to express himself. 

“I know.” Her silky voice wrapped around his tension and broke it down, slow thrusts inside of her quelling the bubbling irritation in his stomach and turning it into arousal. Y/N could read his stone cold features, knew what his eye twitch meant, the simple movement of a brow or the tiniest down or upturn of lip. This magnificent woman seemed to have him all figured out, and he felt like shit for having to leave and be seen with another woman. “I know, baby. Only a few more months.” Fingers stroked his hair back, guiding his lips to her own.

 He kissed her back, eyes squeezing shut as he allowed himself to lose the anger that had developed by focusing on her. The heat of her cunt wrapped up tight around him, snug. Fitting him perfectly, just as it always had. Y/N was the one he had wanted to take to these things, but he had to wait. For once, his patience wasn’t being practiced. 

The best thing in his life had to be hidden from most people, all because he had taken a stupid deal. He had to go out with the girl who thought she was going to be the next Mrs.Styles, while all he wanted to do was stay nestled in his luxury sheets with Y/N’s soft, supple body to worship. 

It was all his fault, though. 

He had always been ambitious. Ruthless, some may say, but he knew that to a degree he could be cruel to get what he wanted. That was how had been raised. His father had put that right into his head, doing anything for success, power, money… that’s how he ended up in this situation. 

In order to secure the deal of a lifetime, he had agreed to date the man’s daughter. Maybe that sounded cruel, but he knew the intentions from the get go. The man was using his conventionally pretty, high society daughter to try and sweeten the deal- but he knew the true motivation. An attempt to get him into the family and continue having control of the company through his daughter’s supposed relationship with him. If only he had been smarter, if he had done more research. He would know he was sending a sacrificial lamb right into Harry’s awaiting lion jaws. 

See, she had been no stranger to him. Katherine had been after him for quite a while. They were acquainted to a certain degree, running in similar circles and society dinners. The crush, more so the obsession she had with Harry had been no secret to anyone. She claimed to have been in love with him, but Harry knew what it truly was. A lust for money. An infatuation with the power he could secure her. She loved what Harry could represent for her, not only to secure place in the society she had been thrown into as she grew up- but to elevate it. She knew the score, knew what Harry’s ring could mean. 

Katherine knew nothing of his true personality, his likes, his dislikes, his jokes. All of those things were reserved for the tiniest selection of people that she only knew of in passing. His real friends barely touched that superficial, vapid, bitter world. Katherine’s family was new money, looking to secure their place in society. Harry’s wealth went in decades, and it would most likely stay that way. Her vying for his attention didn’t shock him in the slightest. 

The condition of dating Katherine for at least a year had been one he had wanted to scoff at, one he had wanted to tell Mr. Eugene Brant that it would be obvious what it was, but he was smart enough to bite his tongue and agree. Playing stupid was a superpower, letting him think he got one over on Harry and vastly overestimating his daughter’s appeal. One year of being toted around with her overly big smile and his signature scowl on his face hadn’t been an issue. It was something he would merely go through the motions of until the exact year was up and she would be out of his life. 

At least, it hadn’t been until he met Y/N. 

The first woman who had ever captured his heart and soul. Softened the edges of his razor sharp glare.

She hadn’t wanted to give him the time of day once she realized he had been flirting whilst not single. She hadn’t known the deceptive relationship and it hadn’t been her fault, but that didn’t mean Harry was going to leave well enough alone. Even after she had dumped her  Shirley temple on his brand new pure cotton button up. 

If anything, it made him want her more. 

One thing about Harry? He was going to get what he wanted. He would bet anything on it. He was patient, stubborn, and fixated. Checking guest lists to see if she’d be in attendance to parties, see if she was going to hang out with his friend group, he was on the prowl to get her to talk again. 

She had blocked his number already- he didn’t really have a chance to explain. He understood why, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up. 

When he finally did have the shot to tell her the relationship was a hoax, she was still doubtful. Dubious looks sent his way as he had pulled them into a private room of the club they were at- one his father owned, funnily enough- his hand holding hers as he sat beside her to plead his case. He was strong and defiant, insisting that it was a means to an end and there was no clause saying he couldn’t date other people- but he would like to get to know her on a real level. 

Against her better judgment, Y/N had fallen for the soft green eyes, the soft looking lips with the sharp cupid's bow and his even sharper tongue. Giving him one date was all he needed to get her on board. 

Fidelity wasn’t a term in the contract he had signed. Stupid, stupid mistake on Brant’s part. A new money, no lawyer to look over, a hasty mistake that would most definitely come to bite him in the ass. Harry hadn’t honored fidelity in the slightest even before he met Y/N. Sex was an outlet for him, as was the gym, things that were pleasurable and stress relieving. He’d only slept with Katherine a handful of times, tapering that off when he saw it made her get more and more attached. She had obviously known Harry had a reputation and while the sex had been alright, there hadn’t been much to his benefit besides the fact that she swallowed his load. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard to find willing participants. 

Sex with Y/N had completely rocked his world. He thinks, in part, it was because they had a real connection. She made him wait, she made him work his way up to that if he wanted- and made him stop sex with anyone else. As if he had any interest in anyone else. Y/N had taken up the majority of his brain that wasn’t filled with revenue and contracts and contacts and emails. She was his escape. 

The first time they had sex, Harry had fallen for her. There was no question in his mind. Despite being positive that he wouldn’t ever marry for love, Y/N had him questioning that. She had flipped his entire world view upside down, made him weak in the knees. 

Y/N wasn’t in the public eye. Her family had some elite ties, but she was friends with a lot of the quietly wealthy people who didn’t feel the need to showcase it to everyone who looked with tacky labels and monograms. She’d gotten into one of the best schools, gotten her degree and continued her friendship with her roommates and best friends- who just happened to be the girlfriends of some of his best mates. The real ones. There were only a few single members of the groups, and Y/N had been the new blood that had people wondering. Harry had been interested immediately. 

It was about 4 months into their relationship and everything still felt fantastic. Y/N knew more about Harry than anyone else ever could. She was the one with the key to the future, even if she didn’t know the exact depths his feelings went to. 

“I don’t want to go.” His lips parted from hers. “I want to stay here… want to stay buried inside of you, want to feed you your chocolate and lick it from your tongue.” Inhaling his words, she moaned as his hips rolled and he found his home back at her most sensitive spot. He had spent hours finding it, claiming it, and he knew it was his. “Spent all week working… I just want my sweet Angel.”

Noses brushed against one another, Y/N’s bleary eyes opening up to look at his own. Hazy, dark green, hooded. She gently dragged her nails over his shoulder blades, arching up into him and pressed a bit harder on the skin to make him moan in surprise. “You have me, Harry.” She whispered. “You have me now. Leave with my traces on your cock… then come back and take more. We leave tomorrow… and you can hold me how you like. Kiss me. Our friends don’t care. They’ll keep our secret.” Even if it was forbidden, their tight knit group knew exactly what the relationship between Harry and Katherine really was- and none really liked her. They knew Y/N made him happy, softened him up, they’d all been rooting for this. Their safe space. The only ones who knew. 

“She won’t ever have me.” He reassured. “I’m yours. I want your marks on me.” Breathing harder, his thrusts getting a bit more deep. “Make me bleed. C’mon, my sweet girl. Paid for those nails… give me what I want.” Her cunt quivered around his prick, making him smile. She pretended not to like that sort of thing, but she got them done specifically for this. To quench his thirst for pain, for marks. They loved it. “She’ll never have me like this. I’m yours.” He whimpered, the freak of the bed and their noises filling the room. “M’yours, baby. My sweet Angel… stay in my bed and wait for me. I’ll give you everything. Just wait for me.” 

She would. She would wait for him, to be his fully, as long as it took.

[demilypyro]

I have a long history of self-hatred.

Hating myself is what used to drive me. The only thing on my mind was... fixing myself somehow. Finding a way to not be so hateable anymore.... And I've found that that was wrong. Because every time I failed, every time I made a mistake, lost a friend, said the wrong thing, I would just hate myself more. And I've found that while regretting your mistakes can put you back on the right path, hating yourself for them keeps you exactly where you are. I couldn't move forward, because I didn't think I deserved to.

Something happened recently that shocked me. A let's player I'd always admired got cancelled. I'd looked up to this person for years, I admired their work ethic, their personable vibe, and especially their ability to keep their nose clean. One reason to hate myself was because I couldn't stay away from controversy as well as this person could... so much for that, right? I've gotten a lot of shit flung at me, but at least I've never trended on twitter... But in a way, that opened a new door for me. It's like they were dragged down to my level. If even that person I admired had such big flaws, maybe having flaws wasn't a reason to hate myself. And if I got so much out of content by a flawed person, maybe what I do can still be worth something even if it's made by a flawed person like me.

At risk of getting even more corny, I recently played Like a Dragon: Infinite Wealth on stream, and I cried through the ending. But maybe not on the scenes other people were crying over. What had me crying, spoilers, was the scene at the end where main character Ichiban.... forgives his villain. This is a man who has wronged him, a man who set basically all the events of the story in motion, a man who caused Ichiban and a lot of other people in the story a lot of pain and suffering... but Ichiban just doesn't hate him. The thesis of the game seems to be that no matter what you've done, no matter how far you fall, you can always start over and do better next time. And that's what I cried over. If Ichiban could forgive someone this horrible, someone whose mistakes are gargantuan next to mine, then surely he'd forgive me too. And if he could forgive me, then surely I must have something to offer. I felt like he was encouraging me in my efforts to be better.

So I'm trying to be kinder to myself. I can't fix my mistakes, and I can't get rid of all my faults, but I can dust myself off and try to do better next time, and not hate myself when I fail. I can hold fast in the belief that I'm doing the best I can, and that I'll be forgiven by people who recognize my effort. I can believe that being flawed is not the same as being worthless.

[headspace-hotel]

against the logic of the lawn

Imagine a box.

This box is sealed with tape or adhesive, which shows you that it has never been opened or re-used. It is in pristine condition. Apart from that, the box could hold anything. It could contain a Star Wars Funko Pop, a printer, a shirt ordered from some sketchy online vendor, a knockoff store-brand cereal, six individually wrapped protein bars.

As a Consumer ("the" Consumer) this is your fundamental right: To purchase a box that is, presumably, identical to every other box like it.

When you Buy Product, it arrives in a box, entire of itself and without context. It has not changed since its creation. If and when Product does change—whether it is broken, spoiled, used up, or eaten—you can Buy Product that is identical in every meaningful way to the original.

It's okay if this doesn't make sense yet. (You can stop imagining the box now.)

Imagine instead a suburban housing development, somewhere in the USA.

Imagine row on row of pristine, newly built houses, each constructed with small, meaningless variations in their aesthetic, all with beige or white vinyl siding and perhaps some decorative brick, all situated on identical rectangles of land covered with freshly unrolled sod. This is the Product that every consumer aspires to Buy.

I am not exactly—qualified, or entitled, to speak on the politics of land ownership in this country. My ancestors benefited directly from the genocide of Native Americans, which allowed Europeans to steal the land they lived on, which is where a lot of wealth comes from in the end, even today. However, I have eyes in my head to see that the act of colonizing a continent, and an economic system that formed as a supporting infrastructure to colonization, have embedded something almost irreparably dysfunctional into the dominant American culture's relationship to land.

This dysfunctional Thing, this Sickness, leads us to consider land to be a Product, and to consider a human upon the land to be a Consumer.

From this point of view, land is either locked into this relationship of control and "use" to varying extents, or it is free of human influence. People trying to reason about how to preserve Earth's biosphere, working within this framework without realizing, decide that we must "set aside" large areas of land for "nature."

This is a naive and, I would reckon, probably itself colonialist way of seeing things. It appears to be well-validated by evidence. Where human population is largest, there is less biodiversity.

But I find the broad conclusions to be strikingly unscientific. The plan of "setting aside part of Earth for nature" displays little curiosity about the mechanisms by which human presence impacts biodiversity. Otherwise intelligent people, perhaps caught up in the "bargaining" phase of climate grief, seem taken in by the idea that the human species gives off a magical anti-biodiversity force field, as if feeling guiltier will fix the problems.

(Never mind that lands managed by indigenous folk actually have MORE biodiversity...almost like our species' relationship to the planet isn't inherently exploitative, but rather, the capitalist and colonialist powers destroying everything.......)

Let's go back to the image of the new housing development. This image could be just about anywhere in the USA, because the American suburban home is made for universal interchangeability, where each little house and yard is static and replaceable with any other.

Others have written about the generic-ification of the interiors of homes, how houses are decorated with the most soul-killing, colorless furnishings to make them into Products more effectively. (I think @mcmansionhell wrote about it.)

This, likewise, is the Earth turned into a Product—razed down into something with no pre-existing context, history, or responsibility. Identical parcels of land, identical houses, where once there was a unique and diverse distribution of life. The American lawn, the American garden, the industry that promotes these aesthetics, is the environmental version of that ghastly, ugly "minimalism" infecting the interiors of homes.

The extremely neat, sparse, manicured look that is so totally inescapable in American yards originated from the estates of European aristocracy, which displayed the owner's wealth by flaunting an abundance of land that was both heavily managed and useless. People defend the lawn on the basis that grass tolerates being walked upon and is good for children to play, but to say this is *the* purpose of a lawn is bullshit—children are far more interested in trees, creeks, sticks, weeds, flowers, and mud than Grass Surface, many people with lawns do not have children, and most people spend more time mowing their lawn than they do doing literally anything else outside. How often do you see Americans outside in their yards doing anything except mowing?

What is there to do, anyway? Why would you want to go outside with nothing but the sun beating down on you and the noise of your neighbors' lawn mowers? American culture tries to make mowing "manly" and emphasizes that it is somehow fulfilling in of itself. Mowing the lawn is something Men enjoy doing—almost a sort of leisure activity.

I don't have something against wanting a usable outdoor area that is good for outdoor activities, I do, however, have something against the idea that a lawn is good for outdoor activities. Parents have been bitching for decades about how impossible it is to drag kids outdoors, and there have been a million PSAs about how children need to be outside playing instead of spending their lives on video games. Meanwhile, at the place I work, every kid is ECSTATIC and vibrating with enthusiasm to be in the woods surrounded by trees, sticks, leaves, and mud.

The literal, straightforward historical answer to the lawn is that the American lawn exists to get Americans to spend money on chemicals. The modern lawn ideal was invented to sell a surplus of fertilizer created after WW2 chemical plants that had been used to make explosives were repurposed to produce fertilizer. Now you know! The more analytical, sociological answer is that the purpose of the lawn is to distance you from the lower class. A less strictly maintained space lowers property values, it looks shabby and unkempt, it reflects badly on the neighborhood, it makes you look like a "redneck." And so on. The largest, most lavish McMansions in my area all have the emptiest, most desolate yards, and the lush gardens all belong to tiny, run-down houses.

But the answer that really cuts to the core of it, I think, is that lawns are a technology for making land into a Product for consumers. (This coexists with the above answers.) Turfgrass is a perfectly generic blank slate onto which anything can be projected. It is emptiness. It is stasis.

I worry about the flattening of our imaginations. Illustrations in books generally cover the ground outdoors in a uniform layer of green, sometimes with strokes suggesting individual blades of grass if they want to get fancy. Video games do this. Animated shows and movies do this.

Short, carpet-like turfgrass as the Universal Outdoor Surface is so ubiquitous and intuitive that any alternative is bizarre, socially unacceptable, and for many, completely unimaginable. When I am a passenger in a car, what horrifies me the most to see out the window is not only the turfgrass lawns of individuals, but rather, the turfgrass Surface that the entire inhabited landscape has been rendered into—vacant stretches of land surrounding businesses and churches, separating parking lots, bordering Wal-Marts, apartment complexes, and roadsides.

These spaces are not used, they are almost never walked upon. They do nothing. They are maintained, ceaselessly, by gas-powered machines that are far, far more carbon-emitting than cars per hour of use, emitting in one hour the same amount of pollution as a 500-mile drive. It is an endless effort to keep the land in the same state, never mind that it's a shitty, useless state.

Nature is dynamic. Biodiversity is dynamic. From a business point of view, the lawn care industry has found a brilliant scheme to milk limitless money from people, since trying to put a stop to the dynamism and constant change of nature is a Sisyphean situation, and nature responds with increasingly aggressive and rapid change as disturbance gets more intense.

On r/lawncare, a man posted despairingly that he had spent over $1500 tearing out every inch of sod in his yard, only for the exact same weeds to return. That subreddit strikes horror in my heart that I cannot describe, and the more I learn about ecology, the more terrible it gets. It was common practice for people in r/lawncare to advise others to soak their entire yard in Roundup to kill all plant life and start over from a "blank slate."

Before giving up, I tried to explain over and over that it was 100% impossible to get a "blank slate." Weeds typically spread by wind and their seeds can persist for DECADES in the soil seed bank, waiting for a disastrous event to trigger them to sprout. They will always come back. It's their job.

It was impossible for those guys to understand that they were inherently not just constructing a lawn from scratch, and were contending with another power or entity (Nature) with its own interests.

The logic of the lawn also extends into our gardens. We are encouraged to see the dynamism of nature as something that acts against our interests (and thus requires Buy Product) so much, that we think any unexpected change in our yard is bad. People are sometimes baffled when I see a random plant popping up among my flowers as potentially a good thing.

"That's a weed!" Maybe! Nonetheless, it has a purpose. I don't know who this stranger is, so I would be a fool to kill it!

A good caretaker knows that the place they care for will change on its own, and that this is GOOD and brings blessings or at least messages. I didn't have to buy goldenrod plants—they came by themselves! Several of our trees arrived on their own. The logic that sees all "weeds" as an enemy to be destroyed without even identifying ignores the wisdom of nature's processes.

The other day at work, the ecologist took me to see pink lady's slipper orchids. The forest there was razed and logged about a hundred years ago, and it got into my head to ask how the orchids returned. He only shrugged. "Who knows?"

Garden centers put plants out for sale when they are blooming. People buy trees from Fast Growing Trees dot com. The quick, final results that are standard with Buy Product, which are so completely opposite the constant slow chaos of nature, have become so standard in the gardening world that the hideous black mulch sold at garden centers is severed from the very purpose of mulch, and instead serves to visually emphasize small, lonely plants against its dark background. (For the record, once your plants mature, you should not be able to SEE the mulch.)

Landscapers regularly place shrubs, bushes, trees and flowers in places where they have no room to reach maturity. It's standard—landscapers seem to plan with the expectation that everything will be ripped out within 5-10 years. The average person has no clue how big trees and bushes get because their entire surroundings, which are made of living things (which do in fact feel and communicate) are treated as disposable.

Because in ten years, this building won't be an orthodontists' office, in ten years, this old lady will be dead, in ten years, the kids will have grown, and capitalism is incapable of preparing for a future, only for the next buyer.

The logic of the lawn is that gardens and ecosystems that take time to build are not to be valued, because a lush, biodiverse garden is not easily sold, easily bought, easily maintained, easily owned, or easily treated with indifference. An ecosystem requires wisdom from the caretaker. That runs contrary to the Consumer identity.

And it's this disposable-ness, this indifference, that I am ultimately so strongly against, not grass, or low turf that you can step on.

What if we saw buying land as implying a responsibility to be its caretaker? To respect the inhabitants, whether or not we are personally pleased by them or think they look pretty? What creature could deserve to be killed just because it didn't make a person happy?

But the Consumer identity gives you something else...a sense of entitlement. "This is MY yard, and that possum doesn't get to live there." "This is MY yard, and I don't want bugs in it." "This is MY yard, and I can kill the spiders if I want to."

Meanwhile there is no responsibility to build the soil up for the next gardener. No responsibility to plant oaks that will grow mighty and life-giving. No responsibility to plant fruit-producing trees, brambles, and bushes. None of these things, any of which could have fulfilled a responsibility to the future. Rather, just to do whatever you damn well please, and leave those that come after with depleted, compacted soil and the aftermath of years of constant damage. It took my Meadow ten years to recover from being the garden patch of the guy that lived here before us. Who knows what he did to it.

The loss of topsoil in all our farmland is a bigger example, and explains how this is directly connected to colonialism. The Dust Bowl, the unsustainable farming practices that followed, the disappearance of the lush fertile prairie topsoil because of greed and colonizer mindset, and simple refusal to learn from what could be observed in nature. The colonizing peoples envisioned the continent as an "Empty" place, a Blank Slate that could be used and exploited however.

THAT is what's killing the planet, this idea that the planet is to be used and abused and bought and sold, that the power given by wealth gives you entitlement to do whatever you want. That "Land" is just another Product, and our strategies for taking care of Earth should be whatever causes the most Buy Product.

It's like I always write..."You are not a consumer! You are a caretaker!"

[kaneaken]

Is this... Delusion?

author's note; just a few short scenarios that I've been through which really make me question everything. I have so many of these, but I think there was only one guy that was actually serious (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)

content notes; gn!reader (pronouns not used/mentioned), modern au because some of these scenarios don't make sense in the original universe

♡ You think you've seen Blade for the fiftieth time this week. You understand the campus you both go to isn't very large, but you have definitely seen him more than any other student. He doesn't pause to speak to you, he just gives you a small glance, which feels more like a glare if anything. You bring it up to Fu Xuan in passing to which she responds:

"I find it strange.. his department is farther than yours. There would be no reason to pass through if he wanted to take the most efficient route."

♡ You notice there is always an empty space next to Alhaitham, no matter where he is. At first, you felt bad that no one sat next to him, so you decided to take the seat next to him. You introduce yourself to which he does the same. Although, he isn't much of a talker, he doesn't seem to mind your constant ramblings. One day, you walk up to him and find Kaveh sitting next to him. Once he notices your approach, he sends Kaveh a subtle look as if to say move it. Kaveh shoots him a glare before getting up with a grumble.

♡ You weren't poor, but you weren't exactly rich either. Aventurine, however, was. He wasn't one to particularly flaunt his wealth, but somehow you had a constant reminder of it.

"My rings? Do you like them? I could buy one for you. It's not an issue. Think of it as a gift for helping me with my homework last week."

"It's your birthday, right? I got you something. It's not much, but-- it's expensive? Oh, no, no, I only spent a little more this year. How much more...? Let's just celebrate, alright?"

"Are you hungry? You don't have enough for a snack? That's alright. What do you want and don't just pick the cheapest thing, okay?"

Seems the more you deny him, the more persistent he gets.

♡ You always spot Kaveh with a pen in his hand. He tends to spin it around, balance it on a finger, and throw it at Alhaitham (the usual). You even find him doodling on his hand at times. You always compliment him on the little doodles and he always chuckles in response. At times, he ends up filling his hand with doodles and running out of blank space, so he turns to you with a smile. You don't deny his silent request (you had been meaning to ask him if he would draw you a little doodle). You extend your hand to him and let him work his magic. Depending on his mood, he could draw whatever. Sometimes it's a horrible sketch of Alhaitham while he grumbles about how Alhaitham finished the coffee that morning. Other times it's a beautiful flower which you wish you didn't have to clean off your hand. One time he drew a cluster of hearts which matched the ones on his hands.

[kaiyatoast]

slytherin boys and the 5 love languages

characters: blaise zabini, draco malfoy, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, tom riddle w/c: 865

Blaise Zabini -

Acts of Service: He'll tie your shoelaces for you, help you into your coat, and hold a hand out for you when you're stepping over something. Giving Gifts: He's a bougie man. He has taste. He'll buy you jewelry that you'll actually wear (not those tacky pink heart ones)

Quality Time: The two of you enjoy being together, even if you aren't doing anything together. You guys would work on your own homework together. Words of Affirmation: He's not the type to shout that he loves you on top of the table during dinner. What he'll do is bend down into your ears to whisper how much he loves you, how much he treasures you, how much he cherishes you

Physical touch: KING OF HAND KISSES!! He'll kiss the back of your hand and follow it up with running his thumb along your knuckles.

Draco Malfoy -

Acts of Service: He'll show you that he's serious about you by planning vacations for you that you'll both enjoy. If you're feeling stressed, he'll bring you to a relaxing spa getaway. If he wants to make up to you for something (or simply spoil you), he'll bring you to a vacation in Prague.

Giving Gifts: He likes showing off his wealth. He'll get you jewelry with the shiniest diamond. He has all that money and he likes spending it on you.

Quality Time: He'll go shopping with you, or any other activities that you enjoy doing. He might not like it, but all that matters is doing that you enjoy with you. Words of Affirmation: He's tells you that he loves you often. You'll never go a day without him telling you that he loves you. Whether he's telling you face to face, or if he's sending you a note, he wants you to know how much he loves you.

Physical touch: He likes holding your hand. He like sit when he can feel your fingers between his and your palm flat against his. He thinks that it's one of the most intimate things ever.

Mattheo Riddle -

Acts of Service: If you're exhausted, he'll carry you to bed. He'll do your entire skincare routine for you, followed by a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Giving Gifts: He'll get you your favourite flowers every week without fail. He'll pass you notes in class. If you started to get interested in knitting, he'll get your needles and yarns without you saying anything.

Quality Time: He loves being with you in his dorm. You don't even need to do anything. He's just happy to be in your presence. Words of Affirmation: He likes making you laugh, and that's when he'll tell you he loves you. He loves you all the time, but seeing you smile and hearing you laugh, he feels like his heart might explode if he doesn't tell you how much he loves you.

Physical touch: He loves kissing your forehead. Before you, all his relationships were purely physical, and kissing you on the forehead is his way of showing you how much he loves you in a non-sexual way.

Theodore Nott -

Acts of Service: He'll always have an extra hair tie on him for you. He'll also have period products in his bag, as well as stuff like eyedrops for you since he knows you get dry eyes.

Giving Gifts: Whenever he sees something that reminds him of you, he'll get it. It could be something as small as a bookmark, because he remembered that you were running out of bookmarks.

Quality Time: He loves spending time with you at the astronomy tower, watching the stars. Words of Affirmation: He loves Loves LOVES telling you that he loves you in Italian. He complements you in Italian so much that that's the only Italian words you know. You have no idea how to ask someone how their day is in Italian, but you know how to tell them that you want to drown in their eyes.

Physical touch: Believe me when I say that he's very physical. He's always touching you. He'll have an arm around your shoulders, waist, anywhere he can get his hand on.

Tom Riddle -

Acts of Service: He knows exactly what you need and he'll always have it on hand, like an extra quill or a cup of your favourite drink.

Giving Gifts: He needs his girl to have the best of everything. When he gets you a gift, it's the best possible version. He always gets you exactly what you want and he'll never scrimp on you.

Quality Time: He's a busy man, but he'll always have time for you. He wants to hear from you how your day has been, and to unwind from the day by being around you, soaking in your presence. Words of Affirmation: This is honestly something that he struggles with, but you'll hear him whisper that he treasures you when you are about to fall asleep.

Physical touch: In public, he'll have his hand on your thigh or waist possessively, but when it's just the two of you, he's softer. He'll brush your hair from your face. He also likes to hold your face, admiring you and wondering how he got so lucky.

reposted from my tiktok @mrsblaisezabini

[morlock-holmes]

I often see people talking about how capitalism is great because it's the best way to get people what they need.

But, okay, so like in a Capitalist free market, supply and demand are always going to be somewhat divorced from need for as long as labor itself is subject to supply and demand, right?

I mean, am I crazy here? This seems inevitable to me but a lot of advocates for capitalism act like it isn't true for reasons I can't understand.

Like, I don't make much money, because I do unskilled work. Unskilled work is work where you can train the vast majority of people to be competent at the job within a few days (As opposed to, say, a neurosurgeon, who needs more than 18 hours of training shifts). This means that the supply of labor is high even relative to large demand, which means that in turn the price at which I can sell my labor is low.

What sort of makes me itch is that if I phrase things like that without any political agenda, most evangelists for capitalism will say, "Yeah, broadly you're exactly right."

Okay, but that means that if money is a signal of "need", then I have less ability to signal need than a skilled worker.

Suppose me and Jeff Bezos both get the same kind of cancer, and we both have the same odds of survivability from the same treatment. The treatment costs one million dollars.

Are we to say that the fact that I don't have one million dollars indicates that I need cancer treatment less than Jeff Bezos, who would pay without thinking?

That's a completely perverse definition of what it means to need things!

The only way to get out of that would be to advocate for a radical blank slate theory, in which every single person is equally capable of doing a high skilled job, and has consciously chosen not to do so.

This is just, like, obviously not the case. Like, at the very least you have to deal with unmedicated schizophrenics, people with learning disabilities, people getting chemotherapy or other medical treatments that make them too weak to work, and furthermore a lot of people who are the most "rah rah" for capitalism are also somehow the least inclined towards blank slate theory, and are often advocates of fairly rigid views of human potential who are happy to argue that some people are just incapable of doing skilled work.

But like... Because of how labor works Capitalism is going to be not very good at fulfilling the needs of unskilled workers, even if the market is otherwise working in a very idealized and efficient fashion, let alone the world we actually have with things like inherited wealth.

Now, I would argue that capitalism can be bad at fulfilling the needs of low-skill workers even when society is producing enough surplus that it is possible to fulfill their needs.

PS - This doesn't mean that supply and demand are entirely unmoored from human desire either, that's not what I'm arguing.

[saltpepperbeard]

i love love LOVE that stede had little to no reaction towards the captain's quarters being empty/trashed. like, he reacted exactly how i expected him to, how i hoped he would, ie making some kind of quippy comment about how it works for the space.

because yes, the library was his "pride and joy." yes, he had an entire auxiliary wardrobe dedicated to different outfits. yes, his entire space was decked out in finery and material things.

but at the end of the day, they're just that: things.

you know what matters more to him? his crew. his family. his beloved.

he willingly gave up his wealth to his family back on land, and then struggled right alongside his family at sea. he didn't scramble to make money for himself, but instead tried to get a bit more financially stable for his crew, for his love. he stayed right alongside his new family, and prioritized their wellbeing above his own.

it doesn't matter that those things are gone; what matters is that those he loves are safe and sound.

((and like, also, he is probably going to want to rebuild/get more little knickknacks and trinkets. but he'll be able to do so with his family, for his family. it'll be their collective space, their home and heart))

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: 8.9K

paring: Wolf!Bakugou x fReader

warning(s): cunnilingus, marking (biting and claws), loss of virginity, loss of innocence, some blood (very minor and only mentioned briefly), and dirty talking/slight degradation.

authors note: well, hello again! I'm currently in the middle of writing something new, but I figured it might be a good idea to repost some of my favourite works from my old blog here - especially this one (and another one soon) as I will be adding a sort of continuation to this story; so best to have both in one place - just to tide you over until new pieces are done. Besides I am quite fond of this one, spun three wheels to get prompts (dialog of “Can I just hold your hand?” the trope of Fake Dating, and the AU being Fantasy). I've always enjoyed how this turned out, though it is one of my first works so apologies if it doesn't have the same caliber, and I hope you all do too - I know Bakugou is quite the favourtie~ 🔮

You weren’t from around here.

Bakugou could tell the moment you entered this seedy tavern, the way your boots clicked against the old wood made his ear shift to your direction, His whole head following suit when he could smell the sweet scent that sat on your skin.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe not to all the other low lives that surround this place, but Bakugou could tell. Your clothing, though it seemed to match that of the other women around, was too well-tailored; the cloth too fine and expensive and the leather used was not worn enough.

And you had jewels; real ones he could tell. Though you did hide them well, he just had very good eyesight. And really that was the main reason he kept his gaze on you. He wouldn’t mind snagging a few of them for himself; it would allow him to live comfortably for a while – and you could spare a few, couldn’t you?

But there was also a hint of curiosity too; a noble-born on the run? What kind were you exactly? A runaway Princess perhaps? No. He rolled his eyes at himself for the thought – there weren’t nearly enough royal guards around searching for you and causing a ruckus for you to be that.

But there were a few. So perhaps a Countess or even a Duchess? His money was on the latter. The way you carried yourself was not as self-assured and haughty as those that were countesses. If he remembered correctly, those women always flaunted their wealth because they had something to prove.

But the way you sat down and paid for a drink made it clear you didn’t have anything to prove; so, a countess you were not.

You were a pretty thing too. A beauty like you didn’t come around these parts often, and Bakugou couldn’t help but want to continue to look at you. He wasn’t the only one, all these lecherous creatures that were around kept glancing your way – their excitement clear as the whole place grew rowdier.

Not like they had a chance with you, not in hell. They would have to stick with the barmaids and brothels full of women to satisfy any of their barbaric needs. And though Bakugou was technically a part of these grotesque creatures, he was more human than anything; most wolves were. If anyone had a chance it was definitely him.

He knew he was good-looking, could probably pass for a Prince himself if it weren’t for the stupid ears, claws, and tail that held him back. Reduced him to living with others like him on the outskirts of the land, to be treated as a lesser than. That’s why he always found joy whenever a noble, like you, wandered around his turf. He loved scaring them, the frightened expressions as they tried to weakly defend themselves always proved that they were the ones that were beneath him.

But you were different. Bakugou didn’t want to scare you into giving him what he wanted, he wanted you to give it willingly.

“It’s rude to stare.” You mumbled, as you picked up the large mug placed before you and brought the frothy drink up to your lips.

“You’re not gonna like it.” Bakugou replied, eyes moving back to stare at his drink, swirling it, like he was doing before you walked in.

You just rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head lightly before taking a sip. The froth was nice and fizzy, but the rest of it all was the most bitter thing you ever placed in your mouth. You grimaced as it slid down your throat, making it burn all the way down to your stomach. You held back your coughs in defiance of the stranger beside you, not wanting to prove that he was right.

“Told you.” He chuckled, his tone mocking as he downed the rest of his drink, he rested the glass back down heavily on the counter before him “It’s the most bitter thing in this whole world, but it gets you messed up the fastest. But I don’t think you knew that, did you, princess?”

“Don’t call me that….” You mumble, bringing the glass back up to your lips – though it was awful it was helping you blend in more “M’not a princess”

“Could have fooled me.” Bakugou purred as he slunk closer to you, forgetting his glass entirely “Then what are you exactly?”

Your exasperated sigh just made his grin, wolfish and almost feral, spread wider on his face as he leaned on the bar counter; your arms almost touching. You shuffled as much as you could away from the stranger, his breath reeked of alcohol, and you weren’t overly comfortable with how close his face was to yours.

“A traveler, just like you.” You kept your tone pointed, trying your best to prove to this stranger that you didn’t want to talk to him or have him as close as he was.

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh really, now?” You asked through gritted teeth, unable to stop your angry gaze to fall back onto him and his shaking head “And how would you know?”

“These clothes….” He started picking at the wrist of your cotton sleeve, sharp claws ran delicately up and down your forearm “Are too nice, too well-tailored. If you really were a traveler then they wouldn’t be as clean and pristine. They would look more rugged like that chick over there.”

You followed his head movement to where a woman, surrounded by a few men around a dark wooden table, sat drinking merrily – not caring that with each shove and playful push would cause half their ale to slosh onto the floor. But the stranger was right, though her clothing looked nearly identical to you, it wasn’t quite as polished. Loose strings would hang off cuffs and hems, the colouring of the fabrics was more dull, not as vibrant. She looked like she had traveled across many lands, you looked like you just started.

“And” You tensed when you felt his breath in your ear and his hand wandering to your waist “Not many people around here have trinkets such as yours.”

You gulped, throat suddenly very dry, as you looked back at his face; the glint in his eyes made you even more nervous. A lamb suddenly in the jaws of the wolf.

“Are you going to rob me?” You asked, voice trembling. Fright filled your being and shook your body in his loose hold, as you watch him lick his lips “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No.” He chuckled, mirth feeling his being over your frightened state “I’m just wondering who you are, and why you showed up here.”

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged his shoulders, eyes darting towards the entrance of the tavern; watching briefly as two well-dressed and armed men entered “And you better tell me quickly before they figure out you’re here.”

Your head darted to the entrance as well, eyes widening in fear as you saw the insignia engraved on their chest plates; there was no doubt they were here for you. And that bastard who wouldn’t let you go knew it too.

“Can I just hold your hand?”

“What!?” You whipped your head back as you watched him pull away from you, your breathing quickening in pace as your heart was thumping loudly in your chest that you knew that he could hear it.

“Just take my fucking hand!” He hissed at you, a hand quickly grasping yours before you really had a chance to reach it out to him.

He slunk his other arm so it was now encircled around your waist as he nodded his head at your drink; silently asking you to hold it up for him. You did with a shaky hand, the proximity of his entire being – having it wrapped around you like this – was making your cheeks flush red. You had never been this intimate with a man before, let alone with a stranger. It was all so incredibly overwhelming, it didn't help that being this close only made you realize how attractive he really was.

You wanted to take your eyes off his face, especially when you watched his tongue peek out from his lips to lick around his mouth at the few drops of your drink that spilled out due to your clumsy hand not keeping it steady. You could see his eyes darken and it made you want to shy away; out of fear or something else, you were not sure - the weird sensation that flushed your body was foreign and frightening.

You almost forgot all about the armed men hunting for you until you heard one call out to the pair of you; two pairs of boots rushing to where you sat. You wanted to let out a sigh of relief when his eyes moved from your face; but held back the urge.

“What?” His gruff tone proved he was agitated as he glared daggers at them, almost smirking when he saw them be taken aback by him.

“Excuse your tone!” One of them spoke first, chest-puffing out to look more intimidating than he was. “You do not speak that way to a royal guard!”

“Well, sorry” His mocking tone countered the apology “But I don’t appreciate having you assholes ruining the moment I was sharing.”

“Well, that woman-!” The other interjected, clearly not as afraid as his partner as he got into the stranger's face “Is the runaway Duchess of House L/N! And we are on direct orders to bring her back!”

‘Ah, so you were a Duchess’ Bakugou thought to himself as a smirk crept its way on his face; both out of knowing his assumption about you was right and from this dick of a man who thought he could take him on for size.

“Do you really fucking think that?”

“Don’t speak to me that way.” The man’s tone was dark, his teeth on display as he started to draw his sword out, to prove he meant serious business.

“Then don’t speak to me like that!” Bakugou snarled, fangs on display to show he also meant serious business “Or threaten me in front of my mate! Continue to do it and I’ll rip your throat out right here and now.”

The low, continuous, growl that was coming from his chest was breaking the guard’s tough façade – though it was barely noticeable. But Bakugou could tell that he was getting a little frightened by him, especially when he glanced towards your profile and saw you trembling with fear. Though he couldn’t stare at you for long as he watched a clawed hand place itself at the back of your head and pull you into his chest.

“If she really was the person you’re claiming her to be, then why the fuck would she be in here? Why would she be in a situation like this? Why would she let a beast like me this close?” Bakugou narrowed his eyes at the two men before, as if to challenge his logic wrong.

You both could see, though your vision was limited, the guard’s hand trembling on the hilt of his sword; clearly taking this stranger’s word as fact and now debating what to do next. Bakugou could see the conflict in his eyes – clearly not knowing if he should harass the two of you or move one. His partner, on the other hand, took a step away.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” Bakugou muttered, his eyes watching the weaker of the two, “Now if you’re done threatening us, I suggest you leave before this gets real fucking messy”

You had to commend his acting, truly, as the more brash guard stood upright. He muttered something under his breath, though you couldn’t hear, before both pairs of boots walked sullenly away from you; the footsteps becoming harder to hear the further they went until you couldn’t hear them anymore. A sign that they had left the tavern. The coast now being clear.

“They bought it?” You whispered, pulling yourself more upright as you looked towards where they left.

“Of course, they did” He shrugged, taking your drink once more and downing the last of it “They’re not smart. Besides….” You felt sharp claws take a gentle purchase under your chin to turn your head back to him “They wouldn’t want to fight someone like me”

“Aren’t you full of yourself?” You scoffed, moving away from him fully now. Your mind now coming back to you.

“A ‘you’re welcome’ would be fucking appropriate right now, sweetness. Especially seeing as I risk my life to get you out of that bind.”

You felt him grip your wrist again, and when you looked up at him you could see that same self-satisfied smirk back on his face. It made you roll your eyes and look away once more, a clear look of displeasure on your face as your lips formed a scowl.

He was right, he had helped you out of a really tough bind. His on-the-spot thinking meant that you didn’t have to go back to your home kicking and screaming within those guards’ hold. But, at the same time, he kept touching you without permission. Along with his full-of-himself attitude made saying your gratitude feel as bitter as that liquid burning down your throat.

“Thank you.” You finally managed to mutter out, pulling your hand away from his grip, your scowl deepening further.

“That muuuuuch better!” He cooed, his mocking tone made you ball your fists in anger; but that seemed to only spur him on even more “Now come on, pay up.”

“Pay up…?” You mumbled, your eyebrows furrowing as confusion replaced the annoyance “What…?”

“You owe me, sweetness. Did you a huge favor, now you’re gonna repay me in kind” His arms crossed over his chest that was now puffed out in overconfidence “I can think of a few ways you can too, though let’s start with why those losers were after you in the first place, duchess.”

You sighed; you knew that you had no real choice in the matter, there was no way you were getting out of this. He was strong, and though it was a little hard to tell due to his olive coat and baggy clothing, you were sure he could easily overpower you without breaking a sweat. And well, you weren’t made to fight.

“Fine. I –“ You began, only for one of his fingers to press against your lips; effectively shushing you from speaking further.

“Not here, sweetness” He smirked, enjoying that his little nickname made your nostrils flare in annoyance. “As much as I would love to see you plastered off your ass, I’ve had enough of those low-life extras staring at you.”

He tilted his head towards the other patrons. And true to his word a lot of them were giving you, what they thought were sneaky, glances your way. It could be due to the display that just occurred with those guards stomping your way and causing a scene, but with the suggested undertones of the stranger's words made you question those glances as innocent curiosity.

“Good idea…” You nodded, pulling your head away when you felt the tip of his claw tickle your nose.

You watched him get to his feet, offering you his hand after he got a few paces ahead of you; as if realizing that you didn’t know where he was going. You gingerly took hold of his hand and allowed him to pull you from your seat to stand before him. It was at that moment you realized just how tall and imposing he was compared to you. He didn’t really seem that way when he was hunched over the bar counter, but now? Well, it was enough to make a shiver run down your spine when he loomed over you with that wolfish smirk as he wrapped his arm around you and began to lead you out of the seedy place.

“W-wait!” You whispered; voice frantic as you tried to gain some sense of control over this less-than-ideal situation you found yourself in “I need to know your name before we go any further.”

You heard him huff out an annoyed groan, bringing his free hand up to pass through his hair before it fell limply at his side. “It’s Bakugou, now come on.”

He didn’t give you any time to say anything else, or really to process what he just said. His name only ran through your head with certainty when you felt the cool summer night’s air hit your face.

~ 

It was cold.

And damp. Though it was to be expected to some degree in the dense forest you were currently being dragged within. It put you on edge, every little thing that moved and seemed to whisper through the branches; made you tense and cause your breath to quicken at points.

Though after the first little leg of the journey you felt silly for being so afraid. Arguably the most fearsome creature within these forests was the one that was walking beside you in the first place, so really what harm could befall you if you had him on your side?

Bakugou.

He was leading you through this place with expert ease like he had done this thousands of times before to the point where it was more memory than thinking. To where, you were not sure, but given the familiarity and ease you could only assume he was leading you to his home; or den, or cave, or wherever it was a creature like him would rest his head.

The moment you began walking, out of earshot of all those around, he asked you to tell your tale; wanting to fill the silence and hear just what led you here in the first place. And though he was quite chatty at the tavern just moments prior, he was quiet now. Trudging along like it was a chore. Listening to you with almost disinterest even though he was the one curious about your situation in the first place.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t listening or found it boring. He was just lost in thought at the details of your story. How overly complicated life was like at court. All those rules and regulations on how to do the most mundane of things, like living and eating, all boiling down to a miserable, controlled, and boring life.

He didn’t envy you at all. If he had to wake up every day and be told what to wear, how to wear it, how to eat, how to talk to people, he may have just ended it all and run away too. No amount of wealth was worth living in such a way.

Though his interest peaked when you brought up the engagement. The straw that broke the camel’s back as it were; the whole reason you ran off in the first place. It caused his ear to stand pointed atop his head as he listened to your mutterings as best he could.

Enji Todoroki, that was the man who had asked for your hand. That was the man your parents more than willingly threw you out to if it meant more land to their name. Bakugou almost laughed at the sudden shift in your tone when speaking about him, with such anger and disdain. A far cry from the soft-spoken women you were moments prior.

But you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want to marry this cruel man. You didn’t want to be sold out to him like cattle simply for more prosperity for your family. The only reason he was interested was because you were a pretty young face, nothing more really.

It made Bakugou roll his eyes. Of course, Enji would be asking for your hand, even someone like him knew the habits of that old man. One recently separated from his wife and was now looking for a younger, prettier, bride. It was all people could gossip about for months. Wondering which woman he was going to propose to – and well it seemed like it was you.

It was ridiculous really. Not only could he be your father, but he also had sons that were of marrying age. In fact, a more suitable match would be for you to marry one of them. You knew that Shoto was your age, and it would still lead to fortune for your family as he would inherit plenty.

But no. Your parents wanted your life, your destiny, to be tied to the older man. To breed and bear his children until another younger and more beautiful thing came around. It happened to his previous wife, and you knew it would happen to you.

“I deserve more.” You declared, your rant about the whole situation over “I won’t even say I deserve love. I just want to be with someone who at least respects me, and I can tolerate sitting in a room with.”

You let out a loud sigh, glancing at your companion who was still as quiet and unreadable as when you started. The only thing that indicated that he was still listening, or just remembering your presence, was the small hums of acknowledgment he would give every now and then.

“I don’t think that’s too much to ask…” You mumble out, feeling slightly awkward from the silence that had now befallen you.

“Your life is ridiculous.” Bakugou finally muttered, bringing a hand up to move a branch out of his way “No wonder you want to fucking leave it. I wouldn’t wanna spend one day as you, let alone deal with that bullshit.”

He had a way with words, one that made you chuckle at how brash and crude they were. No one dared speak that way at court, let alone around a lady. But you found it refreshing that he didn’t care; that he spoke what was on his mind regardless of decorum. That he was honest.

“What are you smiling at?” Bakugou asked, tone irritated as he looked down at you – hating the way your lips turn upwards in that annoying little grin.

“Nothing…” You giggled out, your tone going up in a teasing way as you turned away from him. “You just talk differently.”

“Eh!? What do you mean by that!” He yelled, stepping ahead, and blocking your path with ease.

“I-I don’t mean any harm by it!” You held your hands up in defense to prove your point further “I like it actually…”

The way you mumbled out the last part, and how you bashfully moved your head to look downwards made the man before you smirk. That wolfish grin was back on his face, one that you didn’t know whether you missed or hated, as he leaned down to breathe in your ear. The way you shivered slightly when it hit your ear did not go unnoticed by him.

“If you like that, then you’ll love the way I sound when - !”

You pushed past him before he could even think of finishing that thought; catching him off guard if the little grunt was any indication. Your whole being was too flustered to even want to know where his mind was going.

“D-don’t!” You warned, your voice still sounding nervous but the volume it was at was proof you meant serious business “I don’t want to know!”

You were cute like this, Bakugou couldn’t deny. A little thing so easily flustered by him was refreshing, and it made the animal in him roar loudly. Oh, what he would do to something like you. He would absolutely wreck you, ruin any little part of innocence you had left within you.

His motive now changed. He no longer wanted your trust so you could give him those jewels that were tucked neatly away. He wanted something more precious, more untainted than money. But he would have to play it smart if he were ever going to obtain it.

“Come on,” Bakugou rolled his eyes, trying to seem unfazed by your little outburst “It’s only a little further ahead.”

“What is?” You asked, fidgeting on the spot as you watched him walk ahead and away from you once more – his arm pulling back a branch to clear the path before you.

“My house, dumbass. I want to get out of the cold as soon as possible, so hurry up!”

You didn’t hesitate to scramble yourself forward; feet trying their best to move as quickly as they could to heed his command. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to get out of the cold night’s air and get some rest. Even if it was in the home of the strange man-wolf in front of you.

~ ~ ~

His home was not what you expected it to be.

Not at all.

It was cozy. A small cottage that seemed just the right size for someone to live in comfort, but not with too much space to spare. It looked soft too, the upholstered chairs, his bed, even the bear-skinned rug before his fireplace, all looked so soft. That if you were to touch them you would delve into them – sinking eternally in their plushness.

It really was what you wanted most. You had been running all day, and after that walk through the forest to get here, only proved just how worn your feet and body had become. You sighed out in relief once you had the chance to take off those dreaded boots; watching in curiosity at the wolf before as he placed birch logs into the open maw of the fireplace. Humming constantly when those logs burned and quickly filled the home with a gentle warmth.

“Get over here.” You heard Bakugou growl out, watching him in confusion as he rested back on his haunches; elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed his hands together at the flickering flames. 

“Come on!” He urged again, head finally snapping back to you. Rolling his eyes at the witless expression on your face as you continued to stand uncomfortably at his threshold “I know you’re cold, so hurry and get yourself warm.”

You nodded your head, scrambling once more to heed his command. Feet padding gently on the wooden floor before it was muted by the softness of the fur before the fire. When you sat, you couldn’t stop yourself from running your hands through the dense fur, marveling at how it felt under your fingertips. This was possibly the only time you would ever get to touch this kind of beast, and you were going to enjoy it as much as you could.

Though, after a few moments the lure of the fire called your name. Your cold bones were unable to resist the temptation and you found yourself with outstretched arms towards it. Enjoying the warm glow as flames almost seemed to lick and nip at your fingertips.

“What’s your next step?” Bakugou asked, unable to keep himself quiet. Not when he had you all to himself once more “You’re staying the night, obviously. But after that.”

His tone made it clear that it wasn’t up for debate on whether or not you would find shelter here for the night or continue on your way. Not that you were complaining. You would spend every day here in the warm solitude this small cottage provided.

“I’m not sure…” You finally whispered out, after pondering that question in your head for a few moments. “To be honest I didn’t expect to get this far…”

You saw the look he gave you; it was a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. Like he couldn’t believe that you truly had no plan, no thoughts on where you might go and do, as you figured the moment you started to run you would be caged again. It made you pull your hands back into your lap, fidgeting with them nervously, clearly showing you were a little embarrassed by your truth.

“He’s a powerful man.” You reasoned, trying to get him to understand “And I have never known life outside of my family’s estate and court. I wasn’t expecting to get far with the little knowledge I had. Or with his hounds on my tail…”

You chuckled, Bakugou joining you for a moment as well, remembering those idiotic guards you had crossed paths with. How useless they were. Though, after tonight you knew more would be spread out in an attempt to find you. And as the man before you had stated the moment he met you, you stuck out in a crowd. So really, where could you go to hide?

“I have nowhere to go.” You finally admitted, shaking your head. You had been foolish to even think that this would work in the first place “Even if I were able to slip through the border, someone would alert them of me once I tried to sell my jewels. Or they would take them and sell me out for the bounty that will surely be over my head soon.”

“So what? That’s it?” Bakugou retorted, bewilderment in his tone at how easily you were accepting defeat “All that work just to go running back with your tail between your legs!?”

“I don’t have a choice!” You snapped back, eyes narrowing back at his own “I have no friends outside these walls. Only those that wish to see me go back to that horrid fate for a quick coin! Much like you!”

“I don’t want your stupid jewels anymore!” Bakugou defended, hands turning into fists at your truthful accusation – claws digging into his palms.

“So what? You still wanted them the first moment you saw them! Who is to say someone else won’t rob me for what I have on me, and leave me penniless and stranded? Or worse…”

You shook your head at those horrid thoughts. Not wanting to think of those dark and twisted outcomes that may befall you if you were to continue out of these woods. And though returning back to that man was not a fate you wished to have, it was better than whatever may come to you if you continued.

“The safest outcome for me is going back….”

You whispered your sealed fate; taking in a shaky breath to try and calm yourself down, trying your best to ignore the crimson eyes that stared intently at you. Though those breaths quickly turned heated as anger clouded your mind. You threw your fists against the rug as you let out a wail of frustration and anger over that decision; a foot kicking out to topple the small stack of wood that sat before you.

“It’s just not fair!” You declared through clenched teeth “It’s my life! Why can’t I have any say in how it will go!? Why do I have to marry that bastard?”

You took one glance at the man beside you, searching his eyes for some sort of answer. When you could not find one, you sighed out once more before bringing your knees to your chest, resting your chin upon them like a pouting child.

“If you’re gonna have to go back…” You heard Bakugou, his tone softer as if in sympathy for you, as he raked his brain for that solution you were hoping for “Then get even with them.”

“What?” You softly questioned, your face turning back to him – that wolfish grin was back, and it made you nervous at what he was going to say next.

“If you’re gonna have to marry that asshole no matter what. Then the best way to get back at them all is to give up that sweet virtue of yours. And what better ‘fuck-you’ would it be if you gave it to someone like me?”

Your mouth went dry at his words, finding it near impossible to swallow that lump that was now in your throat. He wanted you to do something that was ingrained into you since childhood as sacred; something only to be done to by the person you were to be bound with for the rest of your living days on this land.

And the almost casual way he brought it up, accompanied by those burning eyes – ones that made the fire before you seem mild in comparison – meant that this wasn’t his first time in seducing a lady; to ask her to keep him company for the night.

But a part of you couldn’t help but be seduced by it all. By the thought of going against tradition, against your family, and especially against that man that already broken the sacred oaths before; so why shouldn’t you? Why should you deny yourself this one, and only, rebellion you could dish out? Why should you deny yourself to feel the touch of this handsome man before you? One that seemed to want to give you, probably, the only night of passion and enjoyment you will ever receive?

You couldn’t.

And that was probably why you felt your heart nearly explode in your chest, as a fire ignited in your belly once you felt his warm and slightly chapped lips touch yours.

Your whole body seemed to melt when you felt his palm reach up to caress your cheek and pull you closer, and deeper, into the sweet kiss. A gesture that seemed so small, yet it showed to you a level of tenderness that he had yet to openly give you since you met him. It made you want to return his kiss with fervor.

Bakugou chuckled at your eagerness, finding it endearing at your clumsy and inexperienced actions that were hidden behind your enthusiasm. It meant that you wanted this. And if you wanted this, then it meant that he could show you a night you will never forget. One that you would remember every single time that old bastard took you into his bed at night – that whenever he took you, you would only be reminded of him instead.

That thought made Bakugou growl deep within his chest. For some reason, he really hated that thought. And when he pulled away from the kiss, he couldn’t help himself but duck lower, to your neck, and start to leave his mark on the untouched flesh.

Your whimpers doing nothing but spur him on. He wanted to hear every little sound you could make; wanted you to hear you wail, moan, and scream his name. The animal in him was being set loose, and he was trying his hardest to not let it run free. Though it was proving harder to do when he felt your trembling hands tug at his coat, feeling your hands slip under the fur of his collar to the smooth skin underneath it.

“Kiss me again” You breathlessly whispered to him, your hands pushing down on his neck to bring him closer “Please?”

Bakugou was unable to suppress his low groan at your words, as he brought his head away from your neck back up to yours. Lips clashing with yours in a messy kiss, one that he dominated easily. Who was he to say no to such a pretty request?

Your kisses become more urgent, almost hurried as the moments pass. Unable to let each other part for too long, even if it was to breathe. A part of it was because his lips felt so wonderful on yours, a tantalizing sensation that left you tingling all over. But the other reason was out of bashfulness. Unable to let yourself fully part from him, to look at him, as he slowly untied and unbuckled every piece of clothing you had.

His touches were gentle. The way his fingertips, and claws, would slightly drag over your skin, like a butterfly’s kiss, made goosebumps appear in their wake. Made you shiver and let out shaky breaths as you parted from one another. Your breath mingling with his, and allowing this reprieve, to fully undress.

You bit your tender lip when you felt his heated gaze wash over your skin. It made you squirm; made you place your hands around your chest to hide from his piercing gaze. Unable to stand the heat of it.

He truly was a predator that caught himself a prize, at least that’s how it seemed when he looked at you. He certainly didn’t appreciate you hiding your beautiful skin from him, your wonderful body. A low growl, one that almost mimicked the warning he gave to those guards an hour prior, rumbled into his chest as he pulled your arms away from your chest.

His grasp was firm, but not painful, you could feel the warning in it; telling you to not do something similar again as he laid your nearly bare form down onto the fur. Pinning your arms above your head

“Keep them there.” Bakugou commanded, his rumbling voice that resembled gravel made it clear to you that you had to obey.

And obey you did. You relaxed your arms and turned your wrist inwards as your fingers once again threaded through the bear’s fur. Trying your best to keep yourself grounded, avoiding becoming too sheepish, as to let him continue his ministries.

Swift hands made quick work of your skirts, ridding them and causing you to lay bare before him; the first man to ever see you this was since you were a babe. His gaze was telling more than words ever could at just how wonderful you seemed to look. And though you couldn’t keep eye contact with him for long, he could see the heat in your eyes as well once he started to shed his garments. That smug smirk was the main reason you turned your head away.

Bakugou’s hands started tracing your collarbone, following it along from shoulder to shoulder. His lips came down onto it a moment later to lavish it with wet kisses. You could feel his smirk on your skin when he nipped at a particularly tender spot, enjoying how your hips bucked up slightly into his own.

He was enjoying this as much as you. If the slight breeze of air that came in contact with your legs, the slight brush of coarse hair, caused by the wagging of his tail was any sign. It made you giggle breathless as you watched the appendage pick up speed the lower his lips descended on your body.

He kept up this tender care all throughout your chest. Slowly moving his hands downward, his lips following moments later over the swell of your breasts, allowing the soft kisses to distract you as his fingers pinched at your hardening nipples.

Your mewls spurred him on to take one of the hardened buds into his mouth, eyes glancing up to see if you were liking the way his tongue flicked over it rapidly. Chuckling when you arched your back, and let out a keen, over what he was doing to you. That needy whine sent shivers straight to his cock, as it bobbed up against his stomach.

It was only when his hands slipped themselves down in between your legs that you moved your hands to grasp his wrist. The combination of the low groan that left his mouth mixed with all the wetness that found itself on your thighs was too much for you.

“I said!” Bakugou growled once more, speaking to you through clenched teeth “Keep your hands out of the way.”

He pried your hands off his wrist and moved them once again, this time to rest at your sides. And though you closed your eyes once more in embarrassment, he kept his eyes trained on your face when pressed his hands moved behind your knees to pull them up and apart – baring your weeping cunt to the fire's light.

“Look at me.”

It was hard for you to follow his request, a whimper escaping your throat to show your unease, but finally opening your eyes when he asked once more, tone soft and gentle, to look back down at him. He was handsome and looked so alluring with his hair all mused and ears pointed in between your legs, as he gently caressed your plush thighs in a comforting manner.

You couldn’t help the gasp that came froth, almost in a shrill manner, when you watched his tongue take a long and heavy stripe up your core; not missing the way his claws now dug into your skin, it was almost painful.

“S-stop! Don’t…” You cried out, hands twitching at your sides, trying their hardest to not push him away “Don’t do that, it – it’s dirty down there!”

Bakugou scoffed at your claim, taking a bite out of your thigh to have you look back at him. Once you do he repeats the action, this time accompanying it with a groan – smirking once more at the flush that was now making it down your neck.

“Not dirty at all.” He shrugged his shoulders before settling into a more comfortable position “How can something that tastes as good as you, be dirty?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. Not that you could really, not when your brain did nothing but short-circuit and turn to mush when you felt his tongue swipe up and down at your glistening folds. Unable to hold back any of the mewls and moans that crept out of your throat; especially when his lips found that special bundle of nerves and began to suckle on it.

Bakugou was taking his time, though it was a little bit agonizing. As much as he wished to go faster, to hear the wonton screams that he knew he could make you sing, he knew that you needed this to be as passionate and tender as it could be. So, whenever you would look back on this night, you would not regret allowing him this.

Not that he truly minded. The sounds of your gasps, your twitching thighs, and your bucking hips made up for it. Especially when he slipped a finger into your warmth and felt you tight walls fluttering around the digit. It was delightful, so much so he couldn’t help but let a growl; the vibrations making your hips jump once more. If you felt this good around his finger, he could only imagine how amazing it would feel having your gummy walls around his cock.

After a few pumps, he added another finger. Pushing through your tight entrance to help properly prepare you for his thick member; not wanting it to hurt once he finally got around to fucking you. The sinful, loud, whines you let out as your back arched when he began to scissor his fingers made his head a little dizzy. So aroused by it all that he couldn’t help himself from rutting his hips, and hard cock, on the rug beneath him.

You had the rug gripped between your fingers, your knuckles going white at how tightly you were holding on, as you felt a bundle start to twine in your gut. One that seemed built out of fire and that twisted almost painfully the more he licked, sucked, and played with your weeping core.

“Come on, sweetness” He nearly begs, his voice going hoarse “I can feel you fluttering around me, just let go. I got you.”

You babbled, though you’re not sure of what, as you listened to his gentle command. Unable to resist, you did as he said, and let go of that tight knot deep within you; allowing it to snap and your body to go rigid. Head moving side to side as you whimpered and wept over the overwhelming sensation.

Though it was only now that you truly understood why so many called this feeling ‘le petite mort’ as you felt a part of your soul had died and found its way to heaven. You couldn’t help but want to feel this feeling over and over again until you yourself passed on. Though it was sinful, you had never felt anything so wondrous.

You whimpered when you felt his fingers slowly leave your tender hole, not wanting the feeling of being full to leave you so soon. And neither did Bakugou. He didn’t want to let up when you finally came, wanting instead to continue – to overstimulate you until you were a blubbering, teary-eyed mess, that was begging him to stop. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed to be in you, right now.

“You ready?” He whispered, bringing his hand up to softly caress your cheek, the tip of his cock twitching against your thigh “Cause we can – can stop if you want.”

“No!” You begged, bringing your own hand up to grasp his; kissing his palm “P-please, I want more.”

Your soft confession made Bakugou moan out, hiding his head in the crook of your neck, as he tried to compose himself once more. He knew what he was doing when he started, corrupting your innocence, however he was not expected to become this turned on – affected – by your turning.

He now needed more, want a distant memory from when he began. He placed the blunt head of his cock at your entrance and slowly pushed in, groaning at the tight heat that welcomed him as he slowly, inch by inch, sheathed himself. The stretch itself was a little painful for you, the more he pushed in, but not in a bad way. It simply just felt strange, as you had never felt a man in you before.

Though the more that kept entering you, the more you would whimper out. You had felt full when his fingers were within you, but this was an entirely different sensation; an entirely different feeling of being full. One that made your eyes shut tightly as your mind could only focus on the slightly pleasant burn of being stretched wide.

Bakugou let out a huff, head dangling above yours; some of his hair tickling your cheeks as he allowed you the time needed to adjust to the new sensation. And himself if he was honest. Your cunt was so tight that, mixed with his earlier actions, made him almost cum then and there once he bottomed out.

“You can move now…” You mumbled, pushing his hair back so you could look into his eyes.

He didn’t say anything back, just simply nodded his head as he adjusted your legs to rest upon his hip. It made you moan softly at the shift, his cock feeling deeper in you. Though that moan turned into a hiss when you moved his hips back slightly, your walls still sore from his intrusion; still burned. But Bakugou was careful with his movements, only moving an inch at a time before moving back fully into you.

It was a slow process, but soon he was able to pull almost all the way out before snapping his hips back into yours, quiet pained whimpers turned themselves into cries of pleasure with each thrust. You couldn’t help but bring your around his shoulder, your nails pressing crescent moons into his back with every slam of his cock into you.

The burn of feeling your nails drag into your skin made Bakugou grip your hips ever tighter. You both knew with the way his nails into your flesh, breaking your flesh and having slight trickles of blood run down your legs, meant that there would be scars; ones that your soon-to-be-husband would soon see. And that made you moan out louder, knowing that there would always be a reminder of this night for years to come.

“You like that, don’t you?” Bakugou asked through labored breath, his pace picking up speed as pulled you down to meet his thrusts; salivating at your bouncing chest “You like when I mark your skin? Like when I use your sloppy cunt, use you like the slut that you are?”

Bakugou laughed darkly when you whined at his words and shook your head no. Though you were denying his claims, your body was telling a very different tale; if the amount of slick that dripped down both your thighs was any indication.

“No?” He mocked, a smug smirk forming on his face as your lidded eyes met his “Then why did I feel you clench at my words, huh? Like – ah – like that sweetness? You like when I’m mean to you, don’t you? I told you, you would love how I would sound.”

All you could was keen, brain turning hazy at the sensations he was overloading you with. He was leading you back to that cliff, and you wanted nothing more than to fall over it once again as you brought your legs to lock around his back as you babbled out strings of pleas for him to keep going.

 “Yeah, you’re gonna cum again? I can feel it, sweetness, your walls milking my cock.” Bakugou grunted when he felt one of your hands tug the hair at the base of his neck “Come on then, cum. Cum all over my fat cock, milk it – come on!”

He took your hand away from his hair, clasping it into his as he lowered his body onto yours; entwining your fingers together as he continued to say filthy words to help bring you over that edge. When you felt his pelvis rub so deliciously over your clit you couldn’t help but be sent over the edge; pulling him even closer as your body shook at the powerful release.

Bakugou groaned, quickly following suit when he felt your walls clamp down on him. Unable to stop himself from painting your insides white, with rope after rope of his seed, as he bit another mark onto your neck.

You let the moments pass, let it go by serenely as you basked in each other’s afterglow. Not wanting to leave one another so quickly after such an event. You wanted to hold him close as your heart slowly started to beat at a normal rate, and Bakugou wanted to do the same.

Though, once his cock had softened, he felt it was time to get you both cleaned up. And with a soft hiss as he left your warmth, he slowly lifted himself from your warm embrace; suddenly feeling cold even with the fire next to him.

“Be right back.” He mumbled as he got to his feet, not bothering to hide his body like you were as he walked to where his washing room was.

You took this moment to sit up, wincing at the soreness that now encompassed your lower half, as you searched for your shift; wanting to cover yourself, if only slightly. That’s when you found your small leather pouch, the one that contained all the valuables you thought to take with you.

Around the drawstring of the bag, helping to keep the thing closed, was your family heirloom. A giant sapphire broach that was surrounded by silver in an intricate design; a pattern that was designated to your family only. It was invaluable. And you thought that if Bakugou was kind enough to leave you a memento, you should do the same.

You clutched the item to your chest when you heard him step back into the room, washcloth in hand. You continued to hold it close to you, hiding it away, as he tenderly cleaned between your legs and the now dried blood at your hips. A kind gesture that made you relax once more into his touch.

He crawled up your body once more to place a soft kiss on your lips as his arms wrapped securely around you. You yelped when he picked you up, head spinning from suddenly being off the ground. He chuckled at your reaction, it only increased when you scolded him.

He led you to his bed and allowed you to get yourself comfortable before joining you. His heart thumping in his chest, and his tail annoyingly wagging, when you moved yourself to snuggle into his side. Your hands softly wandered over the muscles on his chest, as you gazed up at him once more; a small smile formed on your face.

“Here,” You whispered, holding your trinket out to him, waiting for him to take it. You relished in the soft, gingerly, touch he gave your hand before grabbing hold of your treasure.

“What is this?” He asked, voice still dark and raspy as he inspected it further in the moonlight.

“My family broach. It’s invaluable, probably worth a lot of money.” You explained, rubbing small circles with your fingertips on the skin of his collar bone “It was what you wanted to take when you first saw me. And though you can’t steal me away, you can steal this. As something to remember me by.”

You meant it as a joke, light humor to help ease yourself into more mirthful humor rather than one of sadness over what was to transpire once you woke. You snuggled yourself deeper into the blankets, into his embrace as you placed your head on his chest. The lull of slumber began to swiftly overtake you.

Bakugou couldn’t follow suit though. Couldn’t stop his mind from racing as he looked at the broach. The more he thought about it, as he now looked down on your slumbering face, how sweet and perfect you looked under the moonlight rays, the more he realized that he wanted to keep you. So maybe, just maybe, he would steal you away from them after all.

[puppy-steve]

steddie | wc: 1,425 | cw: none | songfic | ao3

have some hurt/comfort, cj style. happy thanksgiving even though it's already 1am my time <3

The kitchen is so thick with tension you could cut right through it like butter. Eddie’s washing the dishes and Steve’s putting away the leftovers from dinner. They haven’t spoken a word to each other the entire night, not since that afternoon when they were screaming at each other.

Other people would say that they don’t remember what or who started the argument in the first place, but Steve knows exactly what happened. All because he let his dumb mouth get ahead of his brain. And it’s not like he hasn’t tried to apologize—he tried the second the words left his mouth and then five more times after that but Eddie wasn’t having any of it.

Which is fine, he’s allowed to stew in his hurt feelings for as long as he likes, but Steve is worried that this might be the first time they go to bed with one of them still mad, and he doesn’t know if he can handle that.

He shuts the fridge and turns around to lean against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, letting out a quiet sigh. Eddie’s back is turned to him so he can only see the movement of his shoulders as he scrubs the dishes harder than he ought to.

He’s still pissed, then.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh. He’s the one that started this whole mess so he’s got to be the one to fix it. He needs to come up with something to get Eddie to at least look at him.

He stands there for a few more minutes as he thinks but then the light bulb in his brain flicks on and he leaves the kitchen.

Eddie’s probably washed this bowl three times already but he doesn’t care. He’s still worked up from his and Steve’s fight earlier, he could drop the bowl and it could shatter in the soapy water and he wouldn’t even blink an eye.

How dare he, Eddie thinks bitterly, rinsing the soap off and placing the bowl in the dish drainer a little harshly. How dare he think he has the right to even insinuate.

All he wanted was to spend the extra little bit he’d had left over from his paycheck on some new mini’s he’d seen down at the bookstore and a couple of books that had been on his list for ages. He made sure to put back enough to cover his half of their rent and bills. He was careful.

But Steve still had to go and open his stupid rich boy mouth.

Eddie feels the familiar prickle of white hot anger on the back of his neck and he takes a deep breath to calm himself. It’s not his fault that he grew up poor. Wayne did what he could to support the both of them on his single paycheck every month, but that money only went so far. There wasn’t enough to spare to open an account with the bank, so they just went without.

Unlike the Harrington’s, who apparently had accounts open across multiple cities and even a couple overseas.

Steve’s father had drilled the importance of wealth management into him from an early age and made him use his first allowance to open a savings account at the age of ten. His boyfriend had a goddamn retirement account by the time he was eighteen.

So when Steve goes and assumes that Eddie doesn’t know how to handle money just because he wants to splurge for once and buy something he enjoys, Eddie thinks that his anger is a little more than justified.

Eddie’s eyes sting with oncoming tears and he blinks them away with a shake of his head. He doesn’t need to cry right now.

As he reaches for another dirty plate, music suddenly fills the kitchen from the Bluetooth speakers on the counter, soft piano trilling and the melodic humming with an R&B beat.

He freezes when arms slowly circle his waist from behind and Steve rests his chin on his shoulder.

Some people live for the fortune

Some people live just for the fame

“Dance with me,” Steve murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie suppresses a shiver and the instinct to lean back into him. “I don’t-”

“Eddie.”

Another kiss, this time under his ear. Fingers gently trace along his arm.

Some people think

That the physical things

Define what’s within

Eddie’s walls crumble like sawdust when Steve laces his fingers between his own soapy ones. He lets Steve pull him away from the sink and they slowly sway in the middle of their kitchen. He can see straight into the living room, where they’ve already set their Christmas tree up in the corner by the window, fully decorated even though it’s still November. They’ve got a hodgepodge of decorations and knick knacks already set on various shelves and tables with Christmas lights strung in almost every doorway.

As they dance in a slow spin, their cheeks pressed together, Eddie thinks back to how much fun they had setting all of it up. How Steve held the mistletoe above his head every chance he got just to be able to kiss him. All of his remaining anger slowly melts away and he’s left with the overwhelming feeling of how much he loves this man.

Some people want diamond rings

Some just want everything

But everything means nothing

If I ain't got you, yeah

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, and he sounds like he means it. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, when I said you should be more responsible. You were right. It’s your money and you’re the only one who gets a say in how you spend it.”

Eddie sighs and tightens his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, too. I got defensive, but I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. I should’ve listened to you when you tried apologizing the first time.”

Some people search for a fountain

Promises forever young

Some people need three dozen roses

And that's the only way to prove you love them

Eddie pulls back a little and looks at Steve for the first time in what feels like ages and is flooded with emotions that make his chest tighten when he sees the soft smile on his boyfriend’s face and the love in his eyes.

Eddie cups his cheek and leans in to press a soft kiss to his equally soft lips before resting his head on Steve’s shoulder with a soft sigh.

Some people want it all

But I don't want nothing at all

If it ain't you, baby

If I ain't got you, baby

“Are we really slow dancing to Alicia Keys?” he asks after a moment. Steve shakes with silent laughter and Eddie gently smacks him in the shoulder. “It’s a serious question, Stevie. I need to know if it’s a contender for our wedding playlist.”

It’s Steve’s turn to freeze now and Eddie can’t hold back his giddy smile when he pushes him back by the shoulders and gives him a wide-eyed look.

“Wedding playlist?”

“Well, I was planning to wait until Christmas to pop the question, but. Yeah. I even got a ring.”

Steve gapes at him like a fish before yanking him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt. It’s more teeth than lips because they can’t stop laughing long enough, but they eventually get a hold of themselves when Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s neck again and presses close, thier lips slotting together seamlessly.

“So I take it that’s a yes?” Eddie asks between kisses.

Steve nips at his bottom lip. “Only if you learn to stop kicking your socks off in your sleep and leaving them under the covers at the end of the bed.”

“They twist around my toes, Stevie,” Eddie pouts, trailing kisses along Steve’s jaw. “Makes ‘em feel like pigs in a blanket.”

Steve tilts his head back to give him more room, the music completely forgotten. “Then don’t wear them to bed at all.”

“But then my feet will get cold. Do you want me to put my icicles on your legs, Steven? Would that make you feel better?”

Steve throws his head back for a completely different reason and groans. “You’re going to be even more difficult once we’re married, aren’t you?”

Eddie grins against Steve’s throat. “Absolutely, oh husband of mine.”

Some people want diamond rings

Some just want everything

But everything means nothing

If I ain't got you, you, you

permanent taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero

[hisui-dreamer]

ode to the cunning octopus

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x gn!reader

Synopsis: it didn't matter how he saw himself, because you would always be by his side to remind him how wonderful he is

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for azul

Word count: 645

Notes: very belated happy birthday to azul!! to make up for being late i wrote a bit more than usual hehe. (azul you can't blame me i was working on assignments)

Masterlist

Your lover possesses an undeniable charm that seems to effortlessly captivate all who cross his path. With a disarming smile and magnetic charisma, he effortlessly draws others in, captivating them like moths to a flame. His sharp wit, eloquent words, and calculated gestures make a lasting impression. But perhaps his most impressive skill lies in his negotiation tactics. A brilliant negotiator, he knows exactly when to push and when to pull, when to offer a compromise and when to stand firm. His ability to read people and anticipate their moves gives him a distinct advantage at the bargaining table, and the sight of him at work never ceases to amaze you.

Your lover is a paragon of hard work and dedication. Whether he's tirelessly managing the bustling affairs of the Mostro Lounge or buried deep in his studies, striving to maintain top grades, his commitment knows no bounds. His days are filled with a whirlwind of activity, yet he tackles each challenge with a grace and efficiency that is nothing short of awe-inspiring. Despite the demands of his responsibilities, he never falters, always pushing himself to new heights of excellence. It's this relentless drive and work ethic that sets him apart, earning him the respect and admiration of all who know him.

Your lover takes great delight in showering you with the spoils of his hard-earned wealth. With each lavish gift and luxurious comfort he bestows upon you, his eyes gleam with satisfaction, fueled by the desire to see the radiant smile spread across your face. Yet it's the simple pleasures he relishes the most—wrapping you in the soft embrace of your favourite blanket, watching as contentment floods your features, knowing that in that moment, his efforts have brought you joy beyond measure. For him, the truest wealth lies not in the riches he accumulates, but in the happiness he brings to you, his angelfish.

Your lover is meticulously careful with his diet and weight, determined to maintain a certain image of himself. He meticulously counts calories, carefully monitoring his intake and meticulously planning his meals to ensure they align with his health goals. Yet, despite his disciplined approach, there are moments when you catch a glimpse of his longing for the indulgent pleasures he denies himself. In those moments, you can't help but want to spoil him, to see the joy light up his face as he savors the flavors he so often denies himself. So every once in a while, you find subtle ways to indulge his cravings, knowing that a little bit of indulgence can bring a smile to his face and a warmth to your heart.

Your lover possesses a comforting presence like no other. Whenever exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you, you know you can seek solace as you snuggle into his trench coat. And without hesitation, he drops everything to tend to your needs, his touch gentle and soothing, his words a balm to your weary soul. There's an ease in his presence when he’s with you, a tranquility that washes over him as soon as you wrap your arms around him. It's as if the weight of the world lifts from his shoulders, replaced by the warmth of your touch and the gentleness of your love. As you hold him close, feeling his heartbeat steady against yours, you know that in your arms is where he truly belongs, finding solace and contentment in your embrace.

Your lover is a man of contradictions, a paradox wrapped in an enigma. But beneath the layers of complexity lies a heart of gold, a love that burns fiercely and unconditionally. And as you gaze into his eyes, you know that no matter the trials that lie ahead, you will always stand by his side, for better or for worse, until the end of time.

Your lover, is none other than Azul Ashengrotto.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[stsgluver]

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 — gojo satoru

synopsis. libraries and gojo do not mix

wc. 1.3k

tags. rb!gojo, gojo x reader, reader is close friends with geto + shoko, gojo is described as an 'attention whore'

a/n. i might write for choso next since ive got some yuuji's older brother x babysitter ideas

series masterlist

“say it again.”

“now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

gojo’s head rested on his crossed arms as he stared up at you with those cerulean eyes that you so adored. he wore a confident grin as he shrugged off your allegations, “i’m gorgeous who wouldn’t want to compliment me?”

you scoffed, maybe a little too loudly for the student library you were currently in (they dreaded whenever you walked in with your snowy-haired boyfriend in tow since he couldn’t shut up for more than thirty seconds). “maybe someone who has three exams,” you emphasised by showing him your laptop screen with more tabs open than you could count, “in the next week and actually wants to study so they can pass.”

“my trust fund’s probably more than you could ever make working,” gojo waved a hand dismissively.

“that’s brilliant, satoru,” you deadpanned, “i’m not leeching off of you.”

“it’s not leeching, it’s love,” he said wistfully, blowing you a kiss.

you shook your head in disbelief – his parents had raised him in such a controlled environment, teaching him about his future important roles and the importance of his wealth. he’d risk it all for you and a relationship that he was not even sure was forever. well, in gojo’s mind you were forever – in his dad’s? not so much. so your boyfriend can’t exactly blame you for your hesitancy when his dad asked him at least once every week if he had broken up with you yet.

“i will never understand you.”

“but you do baby. better than anyone.” there was a sincerity in his tone, one that convinced you that he was right and you two were meant to be it for one another. he leant forward to press a quick peck on your lips, sitting himself back down far too soon for your liking. you weren’t even ashamed by how quickly he had you staring back at him with hearts in your eyes.

“this is a public space. i did not come here to see that.”

you twisted your head to see shoko grimacing with geto in tow, an unlit cigarette between her lips as she stuck her nose up at the two of you. they had just come out of their own exam and you were surprised that shoko hadn’t chosen to go and have a smoke before she met you. presumably, you took it as a sign she felt she hadn’t completely bombed out. 

pulling out the seat next to you, you excitedly gestured for your close friend to sit, having barely seen her for the last couple weeks with exams and assignment deadlines. she pushed her bag off of her shoulder, dropping down into the seat next to yours, before leaning across to steal the bag of crisps that you had next to your laptop.

“where’s my kiss, pretty boy?” geto sat down in the seat opposite gojo, an over exaggerated pout on his lips, the metal hoop on the corner of his mouth jutting out. he sent you a wink when you rolled your eyes at his usual flirting with your boyfriend. 

“see!” gojo didn’t even flinch when you elbowed him in the side because of how loud he was being. one of these days they were going to outright ban you altogether and then you would never get a moment of peace to yourself to study. “he compliments me. i wish he was my girlfriend.” 

you, again, went to hit him in the side, but this time he caught your arm, pecking your cheek quickly despite you trying to wriggle out of his gasp.

“shhh,” another student in the room hissed and gojo quietly groaned (somehow always the victim in his mind), releasing your arm and slumping down in his seat like he’d just been scolded by his mother. shoko snickered at his behaviour and the look on your face.

“can we please leave?” gojo whined a little more quietly, though not by much, resting his head on your shoulder. glancing over between the two who had just finished their exam, you let out a quiet sigh. they’d made no effort to take any materials and of their bags yet so there was no way they were going to be doing any studying now either. you were outnumbered three to one.

“depends,” you slowly closed the screen of your laptop slowly, gesturing between your boyfriend and geto opposite who raised an eyebrow. “you really want suguru to be your girlfriend instead of me? over a compliment?” you folded your arms in front of your chest, trying to not laugh as you acted serious.

geto clasped his hands together, clicking his tongue, “you hadn’t told her yet?”

gojo lifted his head from your shoulder, hesitantly glancing towards you with a grin he couldn’t hide as he (unsuccessfully) tried to shuffle his seat away from yours, “i was getting there. haven’t you seen her? she’s violent, i was scared.” 

“funny that,” you pointed a thumb at your snowy haired boyfriend, “weren’t you just offering me your trust fund?” 

that peeked shoko’s interest and she held out her hand to you, “i’ll go halfsies with you on that.”

“of course, anything for you,” you agreed, slipping your hand into hers and giving it a quick shake. shoko winked now at gojo, who’s mouth had dropped wide open at how carelessly you’d just hypothetically given away half of his money.

“woah, woah,” geto raised his hands in the air, bringing the attention back to him as hbe leant back in his chair, “this changes things dramatically. i was only ever here for the money.”

gojo gasped and stood up, overwhelmed by the consecutive betrayals, pointing an accusatory finger at his best friend, “you’re literally rich yourself. how could you use me like this?” to any random onlooker, they may have actually been convinced that he was seriously devastated by his fake mistress’ words.

“yeah but spending someone else’s money means everything’s free. i’m not asking for much, i deserve a life with no burden.” shoko stood up so she could reach across the table and give him a high five. 

gojo held out his hand, aggressively raising his fingers as he listed aloud, “i’m feeling undervalued, underappreciated, under-”

your boyfriend almost jumped out of his skin as a librarian placed a hand on his shoulder. it was almost comical at how this older woman, half the height of gojo, glared up at him. “excuse me sir, we’ve had several complaints,” though her words were formal and polite, she gritted her teeth as she spoke, narrowing her eyes at the disruptive male. if it were up to her, there’d be a large sign of his face on the door with a massive, red ‘x’ through it.

“sorry ma’am,” geto stood up and bowed his head, clearing his throat as he tried not to laugh, “we will be leaving now.” gojo nodded in agreement, slipping under the woman’s grasp and scurrying out of the room with geto close behind.

“i’m going to kill him,” you muttered, although you were still smiling as you hurriedly packed your laptop back into your bag to follow after your boyfriend. 

“all of that walking for nothing,” shoko complained as you stepped outside to see gojo and geto at the bottom of the stairs. pulling out her favourite yellow lighter from her pocket, she finally lit the cigarette she’d been teasing herself with since she’d left her exam.

once you got to the bottom of the stairs, gojo hooked his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to himself. geto stole shoko’s cigarette to take a hit, blowing out the smoke upwards before he looked between the three of you. “where to now?”

“i’m treating you all to ice cream with my hard earned money,” gojo pressed a kiss to the side of your head before lightly shoving you off of him, giggling to himself. “kidding! we’re all racing and whoever gets there last has to pay.”

taglist. @jar-03 @animeflower26 @hyori2 @ja-zz